Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 133034 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 665(@200wpm)___ 532(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133034 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 665(@200wpm)___ 532(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
I’m glad the waiting time is so short. My brain is already scatty enough to make me dizzy.
“Fancy a coffee?” Josh asks. “The freebies look good.”
The freebies do look good on a tray on the dresser – at least a dozen kinds of teabags and posh coffees, along with multiple packs of biscuits.
“I’m buzzing way too much for coffee,” I tell him. “Maybe we should get ready?”
“Good idea.”
I’m shaking like hell as I prepare for the meetup, switching from basic, into a cute little black velvet dress with fishnets. I have to brace my elbow on the dresser to do my catflicks, I’m trembling so bad, and have to start over on my lipstick halfway through, since I’ve smudged outside the lines.
Josh keeps his tight black jeans on, but changes into a fitted shirt and deep purple tie. Trademark him. The streak in his hair has been freshly dyed, and looks seriously vibrant. He looks seriously vibrant. Well dressed and confident with a smile to die for. Only tonight, it’s all surface level. His hands are shaking as bad as mine as he checks out his tie for the hundredth time in the dresser mirror.
“You look amazing,” I say. “For real, Josh. You look incredible. Even though you’re crapping it.”
“Thanks, baby. So do you. You look like a goth ballerina in that getup.”
“I don’t feel amazing,” I admit. “I feel like a jangle of nerves. Happy, excited, over the moon, yeah. But I’m shitting myself. I think I could throw up my chicken Caesar salad like the girl from The Exorcist.”
He manages a laugh at that.
“That makes two of us. Good job we haven’t got spinning heads.”
“Good job we don’t need eyes in the back of spinning heads anymore. Thanks, Connor, for keeping everyone else’s eyes away from me.”
“And thanks, Daddy, too,” Josh says. “We landed lucky with our client list. That guy is a legend.”
“He sure is.”
I wrap my arms around my gorgeous boyfriend from behind, resting my chin on his shoulder as I meet his gaze in the mirror.
“We’re going to do great, Josh. It’s Heath. We know him, we adore him. We can work this out.”
“Jesus, I hope so. I don’t know what the fuck we’re going to do if this is goodbye.”
Josh doesn’t feel like Josh right now, even in his hot attire. He’s twitchy. Insecure. Scared. It’s such a reversal, me acting as the figure made of steel, trying to keep him secure in his hour of need.
“I can’t wait to see him,” Josh says. “It feels like he’s been gone for years.”
“Only a few minutes left, then he’ll be right in front of us. We’ll be able to sort things out, face to face. We have to.”
“Been a long time coming.” He lets out another sigh. “Way too long.”
I get a stab of guilt, because if it wasn’t for me and my fucking catastrophe of an exposure, then this crazy, fucked-up situation would never have happened.
Still, there’s no point dwelling on the past. That’s what Dad has been telling me for months.
Just keep your eyes on the future, Ella. It’ll be alright. The world will keep on turning.
The world doesn’t feel like it’s turning in this hotel room, though. Everything seems paused at a standstill. My cheeks are burning underneath my makeup, and my heart is pounding in my ears, but I try to stay calm as the minutes pass by. I need to stay calm for Josh. It’s my one chance to be his rock in the storm.
It’s like we’re waiting for a superfan Heath Mason meet and greet when Josh finally pulls up the proposal on his phone. It’s time.
“Here we go,” he says, and clicks on arrived.
Fucking hell, I’m having palpations as we wait for a reply, staring at Josh’s phone screen.
And I’m sure I nearly pee myself when the ping comes through.
Next door, to the right, the message says, and my mouth drops open.
Heath’s been next door the whole time. Just there, through the wall. So close, but so crazy far.
“Whoa,” I say. “He’s right there. He could have just knocked for us.”
Josh smirks. “That’s Heath’s style. Sometimes the closest shadows are the hardest to see, remember?”
I have to grin. It’s one of The Count’s lines in Nighttime Whispers.
Heath must have booked one of the mega suites, since the room doors are so far apart. We pace along the corridor on a mission, breaths jagged by the time we reach our destination.
“My hands are clammy as shit,” Josh says before he knocks at the door, and I take his arm, both of us standing united as we face what’s to come.
We’ve got this.
For sure.
We’ve got this.
Like hell we have.
Our solid stance fades to nothing as soon as the door swings open and the superstar that is Heath Mason stands tall before us, tailored in a classic black suit. My legs are pure jelly as I dash past him into the solace of the hotel room, all rational thought lost behind the insane pang in my ribs.