Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 92972 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92972 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
I smile. “She’s a good egg.”
“She is. I’m so glad you two hit it off right away.”
“Me, too,” I agree. “I think we’ll have fun while you’re gone. We’re going to the botanical garden with my nona tomorrow, then brunch with the girls on Sunday. Then she’s meeting up with some musician friends to have coffee on Monday. We’ll stay busy.”
“And vigilant,” he adds.
“And vigilant,” I agree, smoothing my palms back and forth on his chest. “I promise, I’ll guard her with my life.”
“I know you will.” He presses a kiss to my forehead. “Keep yourself safe, too. I need you around for a long time.” He pulls back, adding in a softer voice, “Or at least through next weekend because I’m really looking forward to Paris.”
I grin. “I know, me, too! I’m so excited,” I hiss, loving that we’re keeping it a secret from everyone for now.
Loving that we’re both so giddy about our first trip.
Loving…him.
God, I love him.
I have gotten in so deep, so stupidly fast, but it doesn’t feel stupid. It feels lovely and perfect and meant-to-be.
I watch from the window as his truck disappears around the corner, wanting to keep my eyes on him for as long as possible, already looking forward to Wednesday, when he’ll be on his way back to me.
“You two are the cutest,” Beatrice murmurs from behind me.
I turn to see her halfway down the stairs, leaning against the railing with a warm expression that reminds me of her brother. I laugh and roll my eyes at myself. “Thanks. I feel a little silly, being this…”
“In love?” she prompts.
My cheeks warm. “I was going to say cheesy.”
Beatrice grunts as she ambles down the stairs. “Nothing cheesy about it. As I said, I think it’s cute. And beautiful. And fantastic.” She stops in front of me with a smile. “And it gives me hope that people still fall in love the sweet, sappy way. Like in all my favorite love songs.” She nods toward the interior of the house. “Now, are we going to drink wine and gossip for a while before bed?”
“Hell yes, we are,” I say, leading the way toward the kitchen.
“Good,” she says, bouncing after me. “I brought wine in my duffle bag, and I need to tell you all the embarrassing things Baylor did as a kid. That way, you’ll have ammunition if he ever gets too big for his britches.”
“Have I told you how much I like you yet?” I ask, grinning at her over my shoulder.
“Yes, you have.” She beams. “But I still love hearing it, and I adore you, too. I can’t imagine anywhere I’d rather be the day after blowing up my career.”
“You didn’t,” I assure her, fetching the corkscrew from the drawer by the sink. “It’s the end of a chapter. There’s still a lot of story and career left to go.”
“Agreed,” she says, pulling a bottle of pinot noir from her bag. “I mean, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little scared about what comes next. But I’m excited, too. I’d rather fail making music I love than spend another ten years getting paid to sing songs I’m just not passionate about anymore.”
“Amen, sister.” I place two wineglasses on the island between us.
She pours the wine, and we toast to new beginnings, reinvention, and a fantastic future ahead. Then, we settle into the living room, and she keeps her promise to give me all the dirt on her brother.
We laugh until nearly midnight, and by the time we finally head to bed, I’m even more certain that we were meant to be friends.
And maybe, someday…family.
It’s crazy to be thinking about forever with a guy I was doing my best to stop sleeping with just a week ago, but hey, maybe crazy isn’t all bad.
Twenty
BEATRICE NIX
I’m a terrible person.
And a liar, the one thing I’ve never wanted to be.
Well, that’s not entirely true. I’ve never wanted to be a murderer or a puppy kicker either, but I’ve always hated lies. Ever since I was a little girl.
Lying to my fans feels awful.
Just…awful.
By the time I’ve scrolled through the five-hundredth—Sending you so much love, Beatrice. My entire family is praying for you and all the members of the band. Your music has seen me through some seriously dark times, girl. Now, we’re going to see you through this one. Violet Widow Stan forever!—comment on my social post announcing the “sabbatical,” I start to feel physically ill.
I press a fist to my stomach, hunching over Charlotte’s lovely breakfast nook table, wishing I’d never opened my laptop. I’d be enjoying this homemade banana bread and French press coffee a lot more without the side of liar’s guilt.
But then, maybe I don’t deserve to enjoy my breakfast.
Maybe banana bread without misery is for people who haven’t spread blatant falsehoods across the entire internet.