Total pages in book: 50
Estimated words: 51243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 256(@200wpm)___ 205(@250wpm)___ 171(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 256(@200wpm)___ 205(@250wpm)___ 171(@300wpm)
For a while, the only sound was the low hum of the refrigerator and Stacey’s soft snores.
The tension that always hovered between us felt quieter now, but it was still there—coiled, waiting.
“Were you in love with Craig?” he asked, catching me completely off guard.
“No,” I said. “But I wanted to be… Are you in love with Stacey?”
He didn’t get a chance to answer.
Stacey suddenly groaned and rolled over, vomiting onto the carpet.
I sighed and searched for some towels.
Somewhere behind me, Taylor exhaled—a quiet sound that said everything he didn’t.
TRACK 17. LAVENDER HAZE (0:58)
AUDREY
The following afternoon
Hey, um… given last night and just in case…
This is Audrey, and this is my phone number. For emergencies only.
Taylor Wolff
You lied about it being the same number… it did change.
If our place isn’t on fire or you’re not seconds away from dying, don’t text back.
Would you care if I died?
I would go through your things and hope you had some valuables I could turn in for cash…
Funny.
Stop texting me. Now.
My apologies for Stacey’s behavior last night. Won’t happen again.
Iwanted to ask him which part, but I held back. It was none of my business.
Never would be…
TRACK 18. IS IT OVER NOW? (4:35)
TAYLOR
“Ladies and gentlemen, Taylor Wolff!” The Bears’ general manager grinned into the microphone, waving me toward the stage on Saturday night.
I adjusted my tie and walked through a maze of white-clothed tables, nodding to sponsors, fans, and the reporters pretending they didn’t have their recorders out.
Somehow, despite spending most of my daily hours writing, football still found a way to cut into the minutes whenever I took a breath. It seemed like every time I set down my pen or removed my hands from the keyboard, the team needed me to do something.
And yet, despite having twenty million reasons to be at their beck and call, I was getting annoyed—especially when it was for something as simple as this.
Taking my place at the podium, I read a short speech about teamwork and perseverance, the same canned lines I’d said a hundred times. I smiled when the cameras flashed. I shook hands. I looked the part.
But when it ended, my phone was buzzing nonstop.
Five missed calls from Stacey.
At first, I assumed something was wrong. When she didn’t pick up on the callback, I drove straight to her place.
Her condo lights were on when I pulled into the driveway—the kind of blinding, sterile glow that made the entire house look like a showroom.
The moment I stepped inside, I realized it basically was.
Designer bags were scattered across the couch, tissue paper spilling out like confetti. A stylist’s team was unpacking racks of clothes—sequined dresses, fur jackets, shoes that looked like they cost more than my rookie contract.
“What the hell is this?” I asked.
One of the stylists froze, clutching a hanger. “Uh, we were just finishing up—”
“Yeah, you’re finished.” I looked at Stacey. “Everyone needs to leave.”
She blinked at me like I’d lost my mind. “They’re almost done, Taylor.”
“Now.”
The stylists exchanged glances, then started packing up in silence. Stacey waited until the door shut before crossing her arms.
“What is your problem?” she asked.
“My problem?” I looked around the mess. “You said you were sick. I thought something happened. Instead, I find a photo shoot in progress?”
“It’s not a photo shoot.” She waved toward the garment racks. “It’s preparation. You should be thanking me. I have to fit in with the other WAGs. You don’t want me to embarrass you, do you?”
I laughed once, humorless. “We need to talk.”
“Can it wait until I figure out what I’m wearing for the next event?”
“No,” I said. “Now.”
Her expression faltered when she saw I wasn’t bluffing. “You’re seriously doing this right now?”
“Yeah.” I looked her straight in the eye. “I can’t do this anymore, Stacey.”
Her jaw tightened. “You’re breaking up with me because I’m trying to look good for you?”
“I’m breaking up with you because you’ve turned this into a brand deal.”
“Unbelievable.” She grabbed her phone. “You should be ashamed. I’ve been doing all this work for you.”
“I didn’t ask for any of it.”
“And while we’re on the subject,” I said quietly, “have you been using again?”
Her eyes snapped up. “What?”
“Cocaine,” I said. “I saw it in your purse the other night when you were sick. Don’t lie to me.”
“You’re unbelievable.” She turned away, shoving a pile of dresses aside. “That’s not what you think it was.”
“Then what was it?”
“None of your business.”
I let out a slow breath. “That’s exactly the problem, Stacey. Nothing’s anyone’s business until it blows up.”
She stared at me for a long moment before her eyes narrowed. “This is about her, isn’t it?”
“Don’t start.”
“It’s crazy how I don’t even have to mention her name.” She scowled. “You didn’t even deny it.”
“It’s complicated.”
“That means yes.”
“No.” I exhaled. “I’ve never slept with her.”
Her mouth twisted. “Ever kissed her?”
“Not by choice.”
Her voice rose. “What the hell does that even mean?”