Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 125213 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125213 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
In my mind, in my heart, in my fucking soul.
“So, I guess this is it,” I said, still silently begging Mia to look at me. I needed to see her eyes. I needed to watch her every feature as she told me this was what she wanted. “One more performance and the show is over.”
She tucked her hands under her thighs, looking everywhere but at me. “Yep. One more stunt and then you’re free.”
I frowned at that.
Free.
Free from what… from pretending? From the crazy travel schedule?
From her?
I never wanted to be free from her, and I opened my mouth to say so but was cut short when Isabella clapped her hands together.
“You’ll both be free, and you’ll be able to say you successfully pulled off the craziest PR stunt of all time.” She paused. “Well, to me and G, anyway. You can’t tell another soul, or we’ll all be toast.”
Giana laughed and Mia smirked, and I felt fucking sick.
But with Mia avoiding my gaze and staying silent, she confirmed everything I should have kept in the forefront of my mind all along.
This was just a charade.
I was just a dirty little secret.
Never good enough.
Never good enough.
“What do you think, big boy,” Isabella asked, gripping my shoulder with a playful wag of her eyebrows. “Are you ready to put on the performance of a lifetime?”
One last time, my eyes slid to Mia.
Do you really want this?
Is it really all in my head?
Is this how you want the story to end?
A fierce ache rocked through me when she finally looked up, her wide blue eyes catching mine.
But she didn’t say a word.
I swallowed, nodded, and let the last of my fantasy of us die — along with my will to fight for something that had never been mine.
“Ready,” I said.
It was the hardest lie I’d ever had to tell.
Counting Trees
Mia
The last time I’d been in this condo, a hurricane had been raging outside.
Now, the storm was inside me.
I stared at where my fingers rested on the bone white keys of Aleks’s piano, unmoving, frozen. I yearned for music, ached to play something that would relieve the pressure building in my chest.
But I knew nothing would work.
So I just sat there, staring, listening to everything happening around me like a ghost who couldn’t fully participate. It was dark outside now, evening giving way to night, the waning crescent of moon visible over the Hillsborough River like just another eye fixed on us.
Giana left first, making sure Aleks was good to go before she excused herself back to her hotel. Aleks left next, right at the time of our planned fake fight. I stared at the keys extra hard as he prepared to go, knowing if I looked at him again, I’d break all the way down.
He hadn’t stopped it.
As if the call hadn’t been heartbreaking enough, I’d had to sit here and watch him apathetically agree to every step of Giana and Isabella’s plan for tonight. He didn’t try to pull me aside. He didn’t tell everyone to fuck off.
He really was done.
I felt both resigned and desperate as I sat at that piano, each emotion warring for who would win. They tugged on the bones of my rib cage, and I heard each crack as they fought.
“¿Estás bien, mi amor?”
I blinked at the question from Isabella, dropping my hands into my lap as she took a seat next to me on the piano bench. You good, my love?
“Peachy.”
She frowned, sweeping my hair back behind one ear. “One last little bit here, darling. Almost done.”
I nodded, a strained smile on my lips.
“Just think about the ticket sales and all the songs you can write,” she added with a playful nudge.
This time, my eyes welled with tears.
As if my heart wasn’t already broken enough from that boy. As if I couldn’t already fill a whole album with songs about how he’d wrecked me.
“Hey,” Isabella sang, brows pinching together more. “What’s this? Talk to me.”
I sniffed, swiping the tears off my face and forcing a smile. “Just getting ready. I’m about to have to sell a breakup, remember? Need to have a blotchy, tear-streaked face.”
Isabella didn’t look convinced. When she opened her mouth to question me more, I stood abruptly.
“Speaking of which, I should probably get to it. You’re going to stay here until the paparazzi clear out, right?”
“Yes, but—”
“Great. I’ll see you in L.A., babe.”
Another forced smile. A kiss on her cheek. A straightening of my shoulders.
And then I grabbed my suitcase and bolted out the door.
James was on my heels as I tore through the hall and to the elevator, but he didn’t say a word. Not as we climbed inside and I chewed my lip against the emotion building in my chest. Not when we hit the bottom floor and the tears began to spill. Not when he sheltered me as we walked through the lobby and a sob ripped from my throat.