Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 52440 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 262(@200wpm)___ 210(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52440 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 262(@200wpm)___ 210(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
"I'll make sure he behaves, sweet girl," Mom promises.
"I am very well-behaved," Dad grumbles.
"Of course you are, He-Man."
"We're pulling up," I murmur as they bicker back and forth about the fact that my dad is absolutely not very well-behaved. He doesn't even know the definition. "I've got to go."
"Okay, sweetheart. We love you," Mom says, her voice softening. "And we're happy for you. Enjoy this, okay? And try to let the past be the past. That's what both of you deserve now."
"Yes," Dad agrees. "You have cried enough, zaika. Both of you. Be happy now."
"Okay," I whisper, tears stinging my eyes as a fierce wave of gratitude washes through me. I love them both so damn much. No matter what I do, they're just there for me. No matter how badly I've messed up, they've never judged me for it. They just show up. They love me.
And they love Teo, too.
Aunt Miranda and Jason, Teo's parents, are the same way. Our parents have been best friends for decades, doing everything together. And no matter what happened between me and Teo, they never treated either of us any differently.
"Hey, Mom? Dad?"
"Yeah, sweetheart?"
"Thank you for loving us," I whisper, my throat tight. "Thanks for trying to protect us—both of us—even when you didn't know how to do it."
"Zaika," Dad says, his voice gentle. "Of course we protect you. You both hurt. You both grieve. Neither of you can see it because you were both lost. We keep your secrets because they aren't ours to tell. But we always knew you would find your way back. You are sud'ba. That means what you have is special, zaika. It means forever, like me and my kisa."
"I love you," I say, smiling softly. My dad may be a big, scary man, but he's also a smart one, too. I love seeing the world through his eyes. It's always kind of beautiful and a little bit magical, too.
"Ya tebya lyublyu," he murmurs.
I disconnect the call, preparing to slip my phone into my pocket, but I hesitate and then pull up Teo's number. There's no way he'll get a text from me right now—he's still mid-flight. But I send one anyway.
Me: I miss you already.
Surprisingly—or perhaps not so surprisingly, since this grown-up version of Teo plays by his own rules—I get a response almost immediately.
Teo: So fucking much, butterfly. Forty-eight hours.
Forty-eight hours. After six years, it's not so long.
Somehow, it feels like a lifetime anyway.
My driver pulls up along the curb outside of Olive's building. I slip my phone back into my pocket and climb out, stretching my arms over my head as I thank him. Sunlight glints on the massive glass windows, blinding me. Then again, this part of Los Angeles is always blinding. It's so freaking big here, overwhelmingly so.
Shadows from buildings stretch across the street and tower overhead, blocking the bright blue sky. Back home, there's sky everywhere. Here, you only see it in glimpses in entire tracts of the city, like it's some ephemeral thing hanging like a pretty backdrop against the rat race.
I miss looking up and seeing the whole broad expanse of it stretching above me. More than I realized.
I head inside, taking the elevator up to Olive's office. Her receptionist immediately waves me in, not even pausing her phone conversation long enough to say hello. I don't take it personally. The woman is busy. Olive is busy. New York isn't the only city that never sleeps. And the entertainment industry never stops.
I tap on Olive's door, waiting for her to shout for me to come in.
I find her behind her desk, wire-rimmed glasses perched on her delicate nose. She's not much older than I am, but unlike me, she's a force of nature, born into a family that's been in this business for decades.
She glances up, her blue eyes settling on my face. "You said you weren't fucking him, Nadia."
Busted, I guess.
"I wasn't at the time." I grimace at her. "And then things changed."
"I can see that." She stares at me levelly for a long moment and then shakes her head, an exasperated smile touching her lips. "The whole world can see that right now."
I push the door closed, crossing her massive office on silent feet. I don't apologize, though. I won't ever do that, not over this. "How bad is the coverage?"
I refuse to look. I really don't want to know what they're saying about us. I learned long ago that it's better not to know what people say about me than it is to obsess over it. The only thing I'm liable to do by reading it is drive myself crazy.
"Well, whoever was outside your house last night got some great shots of his hands all over your ass while you two were making out in his car," she says, making me groan. "But the coverage itself isn't bad. The tide of public opinion seems to be turning in his favor for once."