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)
"Really?" I slip into a chair across from her desk, relieved as hell.
"Mmhmm. Someone floated the idea that the bar fight the other night was over someone threatening you. The story caught like wildfire." She meets my gaze, hers frank. "It helps that you look really fucking happy at his side. People love you. They root for you. So seeing you lit up like that makes them want to root for him, too."
"Good," I whisper. "I want them to root for him."
"They think he's the football player from your music," she warns me.
I glance down at my hands. "He is."
"Shit."
"We were best friends growing up. We drifted after…well, none of that matters. The point is, he's been part of my life since the day I was born."
"How do you want me to handle this, Nadia? The phone has been ringing off the hook with people wanting us to comment. If we don't get ahead of it, they'll go digging," she says gently. She's well aware of my history. I didn't lie to her about it when she agreed to represent me. The only thing I kept for myself was Teo's place in it. That felt sacred. But the rest of it? The accident, the PTSD, and the intensive treatment? She knows. "It'd be better to plant the story you want to tell."
My stomach churns at the thought of planting a story or building a carefully crafted narrative. That's never been what I wanted to do. I just wanted to sing with Teo at my side.
But I guess even dreams have little pockets of shadow, right? They're designed in the same realm as nightmares, crafted from the same stuff. One can easily turn into the other. We're both public figures, living public lives. If we want to keep doing this, we have to take the bad with the good.
I don't want to peel back my skin and let the whole world see the wreckage of my past. I don't want to share my scars and trauma. I never wanted to be the pop star who has PTSD. I never wanted to be Nadia Mikhail, the girl who spent time in rehab. I don't want everyone treating me differently—and they will. They always do.
But…maybe it's the sacrifice I have to make. Maybe that's the only way we get to move forward: by spilling it all out. We can't forget it. We can't hide from it. Maybe we have no choice but to spill it all out and take what comes.
But more than I owe anyone else answers or the truth, I owe it to him. I don't know why I thought I'd be able to keep it from him anyway. Life doesn't really work that way. I guess I just hoped that, for once, I'd be able to protect him the way he always protected me.
"Can I talk to him first?" I ask Olive quietly. "There are some things we need to discuss before I can make any decisions."
"Yes, definitely talk to him. Decide what you guys want to make public and what you don't. We'll go from there," she says. "I know his publicist, Emelia. We can sort it out together once we're all on the same page."
I nod, my stomach churning.
"Now, are you ready for some good news?" Olive beams at me. "You're going to love this."
"Go for it."
"Your presales for the new album here have been stellar," she announces. "The record company is talking about adding dates across Europe and Asia."
I blink at her. "Europe and Asia?"
She bobs her head in an excited nod. "It'll add three months to the tour, but with how well sales are going, they think it's a no-brainer." Her blue eyes lock on mine, her smile massive. "You should be proud of yourself, Nadia. You're really blowing up big time."
I paste a bright smile on my face, even as my heart clenches. Three months overseas and five months of touring here. That's eight months on the road or on a plane. Eight months away from Teo.
We just found our way back to one another. And already, it feels like we're teenagers again, facing the same decisions. Only, instead of college, it's tour dates, football games, and our own past pulling us apart at the seams.
And I'm nervous as hell that, just like then, we may unravel.
"Fuck," he growls into the phone a few hours later, his voice gritty. "I miss you like crazy, butterfly."
"I miss you too," I whisper, clutching the phone. My mind still spins, trying to process the new tour dates. Trying to slot the last few days into my mind. Everything is moving so freaking fast. "How is your hotel?"
"Lonely. I've got this big bed, and you aren't in it."
I smile, curling up on the sofa. "Should have tried to fit me in your suitcase then, Teo. I probably could have squeezed in," I tease.