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)
No, not at all. I’m glad, too. See you next Sunday. I add a smiley face and hit send, but as I slide my cell back in my purse, my real-life smile is gone.
I tell myself it’s normal that I can’t get through a conversation these days without Kai popping up in the middle of it. The people who know why I’m in New Orleans know it’s because I’m in the middle of an intense breakup. Like it or not, Kai’s presence looms pretty large right at the moment. And now that we’ve announced the hiatus, it’s likely going to get worse.
I’m fully aware that the speculation that Kai and I are no longer an item won’t be far behind the thoughts and prayers…
But Laurel and I have prepared for that. She already has a “it’s over, but please respect our privacy” statement locked, loaded, and ready to deploy when needed. When the time comes to face the rumor mill and online speculation, I’ll get through it.
It won’t be easy or pleasant, but I’ve survived worse.
I just have to hold the line, lean on the people who love me, and eventually this storm will pass. There will come a day when I decide how often my ex’s name is mentioned in conversation.
And it won’t be much, especially at first.
I’m actually getting pretty good at pretending my life started the second I woke up at my brother’s apartment last week…
I barely think of Kai or the band the rest of the day. It helps that when Charlotte and I get back to her place, I deliberately steer clear of the internet. My laptop stays in the guest room, and my phone on “dummy” mode while we prep dinner and settle in to watch Nix’s game.
It’s a blowout, and my brother is a star, as usual.
Charlotte and I toast his success with a glass of sweet tea, taking a break to change into pajamas before settling back on the couch to zone out to a reality show about Spain that has me dying to book a flight. The band played two shows in Madrid during our last tour, but there wasn’t time to explore the rest of the country before we had to head for Paris.
Now, however…
Well, I can work on music for my solo album while on holiday in a charming, cobblestone city famous for its sheep cheese and apple cider. And maybe I will.
Visions of wandering stunning foreign lands where no one knows my name dancing in my head, I drift off feeling more peaceful than I have in a long time.
Only to wake up to an insistent buzzing sound on Monday morning…
I blink bleary eyes, squinting at the phone on the bedside table. I have my “silent mode” set to automatically turn off at seven a.m., but I rarely get a text before nine or ten. Music people sleep late, and my publicist in L.A. is two hours behind New Orleans.
But it looks like Laurel is up early today.
Very early…
The sight of a text from my publicist, sent at 5:24 a.m. her time, is enough to send my stomach dropping through the mattress.
Something’s happened. Something bad.
I shoot up in bed, hunching over my screen as I scroll through a dozen missed calls and three times as many text messages.
And the email alerts…
Jesus…
There are so many mentions and tags, it instantly feels like I’m drowning.
I’m scrolling back to Laurel’s text with shaking hands when I see Kai’s face on my home screen. He’s in the news section, next to a headline reading—Rock Star says “Fiancée May Have Been Abducted.”
Eyes flaring wide, I click on the link.
The article loads quickly, revealing a larger photo of Kai outside what looks like a police station, his expression haggard. The dark circles under his eyes are even deeper than normal, and the caption beneath the image reads—Kai Morrison speaks to the press about missing fiancée Beatrice Nix.
A strangled sound leaps from my throat.
We weren’t engaged!
There was a time I desperately wanted to be, but Kai never asked.
He never fucking asked. But that clearly isn’t stopping him from playing the “fiancée” card to make whatever story he’s telling sound better.
I scan the article, lines leaping out to spike my blood pressure even higher.
…Morrison claims abusive brother has been an issue for years…
…sudden tour cancellation and suspicious illness viewed as evidence of coercion...
…NHL player known for violent on-ice behavior…
There’s a video embedded in the article. I press play, and Kai’s face twitches into motion on my screen. My mouth fills with an acidic taste as he blinks tear-filled eyes.
“I couldn’t stay silent anymore. I need Beatrice to know she’s not alone,” he says, his voice breaking in the middle of my name. “I love you, Bea. I’m looking for you, and I won’t stop until I know you’re safe. The truth deserves to come out. And you deserve to be free.”