In the end, no marketing ended up being the best imaginable marketing, gaining him consistent airplay and respectable nods from other artists. Both his music and the news of his sudden and unexpected release spread like wildfire through the media. Rosie was furious she’d been scooped by none other than the man himself. A fact that still brings a secretive smile to my face—daily.
Less than a week later, he published the entirety of his album along with the would-be article I’d typed on the plane and sent via text. He’d rearranged parts of it and managed to turn it into more of a blanket statement-type press release while protecting my anonymity.
The second I saw it, I ran to the bathroom and tossed up my breakfast, tears streaming down my face, phone in hand, wanting nothing more than to call him. That, combined with the fact that I could barely look at my father, had me going home early that day. It was the lone day I allowed myself to wallow in my misery like a lust-crazed teenager and let the ache rule me wholly.
“Okay,” Holly says, her fingers flying over her phone screen. “I just shot a text to our boy to see if he can manage an impromptu trip.”
“He might be our boy, but he’s your man, remember? So, when do you plan on telling him?”
She pauses, pulling sculpted brows together. “How about never. I’m getting over that crush.”
“You think eight years is a crush?”
“It is if I deem it so,” she sasses.
“Do you even know how beautiful you are?” I prop my hand under my chin, eyes gliding over the fit of the slinky halter dress she’s pulling off so effortlessly. She pauses, a fork full of chicken salad halfway to her mouth, her expression bemused.
“He’s a fool, Holly,” I emphasize. “Because I’m not just talking about your appearance. You have the heart he needs.”
“He’s not looking. He’s too busy hustling for his career and fucking for sport.”
The familiar words jolt me back into that hotel restaurant.
“Do you fuck for sport?”
“Women aren’t a game to me, so I fuck because it feels good.”
God, did it ever feel good.
So damned good I’ve had actual wet dreams—which I swore were a myth—good. An image of Easton flitters in, above me, inside me, hazel eyes intent, jaw slack. An image I’ve replayed an embarrassing number of times. Slamming my fork down in irritation, I let out a long exhale, and Holly jerks back.
“What the hell?”
“It’s just…” I’m losing my focus over the gorgeous, budding rock star I slept with two months ago, and I would like my sanity back. “I’m…just…tell the man you love him already.”
“He’s not ready to couple up, and I don’t want the “I’ll text you” version of Damon. I’m better than that. I’m worth more than that. Sure, we flirt a lot and have come close to crossing that line, but I’m not willing to risk his judgment when it comes to us. It would ruin twenty-one years of friendship—so, yeah, I’ll pass. If this ship sails before he’s ready to board, then it sails.” She flips through her phone, though I know she’s completely tuned into this conversation. “Why are you so worried about this all of a sudden?”
“Because. I’m…，” wishing on a shooting star every night, every time I ride Percy toward a sunset, and every time I close my damned eyes. “I just want you to have who you want.” Because I can’t. “I’m sorry I’m being pushy, it’s your decision. I just know you both would fit so perfectly, and the fact that you can be together and are both being idiots about it, irks me sometimes.”
She lowers her fork, eyes cast down. “I’m sorry if I’ve talked about him too much over the years,” she withdraws slightly.
Cloudy head clearing immediately in response to her rapidly dimming expression, I grip both her hands tightly, including the one still holding her fork, and her eyes bulge at the crazy I’m showing. “Never, don’t you ever think that. You can talk about my other best friend all you want; do you hear me? Tell me you hear me.”
She grins at me as I release her.
“What?”
“You love me,” she declares, “like a crazy person.”
“Hell yeah, I do, and I love Damon just as much. I just wish you two would finally get together, that’s all.”
“Maybe someday,” she sighs, “but you’re forgetting one important thing.”