Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 63716 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63716 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
“Great.”
“You’d have to come to my place. She’s a really bad driver. No way could she make it to Venice Beach.”
“Happy to.”
“Okay then.” Willow smiled at me, but I sensed the strain in it. “Do I get to meet your parents, too?”
“Hell yeah.”
Willow’s smile turned real at my enthusiasm. She reached across the table and squeezed my hand, her eyes wide and luminous in the candlelight. “I’m nervous.”
“Don’t be. They’ll like you.”
She gave me a mock frown. “You’re supposed to say they’ll love me.”
I love you. Isn’t that enough? The thought came out of nowhere, clocking me like a fist. I nearly choked on my wine. Luckily, Willow took it for a snort of laughter and smiled again while I pulled myself together.
She changed the subject a few minutes later, taking it back to the latest batshit thing Miller had done. I laughed and listened and offered advice, but only half of me was present. The other half was outside of myself, staring at me staring at Willow. Wondering–am I really in love with her?
And if so, how the hell was I going to tell her without scaring her off?
25
WILLOW
I was supposed to be facilitating the one-on-one interview with Brendan, Michio’s agent and best friend, but I kept messing up. Long seconds would pass while Brendan waited for me to feed him the next question.
“God, sorry,” I shook my head and blinked down at the next question. “Describe what it’s like to see your client reach heights in his career you never could.” I winced, the impact of the words only hitting after I’d said them out loud and made an apologetic face at Brendan.
“Christ, draw blood already, Miller,” he grumbled, shifting around in his seat. Then he grinned self-deprecatingly and began his answer.
Normally, I loved facilitating the interviews, especially when Miller wasn’t around to bark at me when I took the barbs out of some of his questions. Today, though, I just couldn’t focus. My head felt funny, stuffed with cotton, like I was getting sick. I didn’t feel bad though.
Maybe my double life was finally starting to take a toll. Waking up with Julian, sneaking out to call Fletcher. Lying to both. Falling in love with this job, forgetting I hadn’t earned it on my own merit. Falling in love with Julian, forgetting that one day he would hate me.
“Wills, what’s the next question?” Brendan asked, and I realized he’d wrapped up his answer.
“Sorry,” I repeated, scanning the list to find where we’d left off. Another nasty one. I skipped it and went down to the next. Brendan began answering. My mind went right back to Julian. I was in love with him. I’d been teetering on the precipice for so long, but at some point, I let go of all the reasons I shouldn’t love him and fell in. I didn’t know how he felt. Was he talking about meeting my mom and wanting me to meet his friends because he felt the same way? Or was this just what a normal couple did after three months?
I realized Brendan was holding out his hand for the list of questions. I shook my head instinctively. I didn’t want him to see some of the things Miller had written.
“C’mon, Wills. I can handle it.” He leaned forward and plucked it from my fingers, smoothed it out on his knee, and cleared his throat. We did the rest of the on-camera session that way. Brendan answered things I wouldn’t have asked, though his voice took on the rough, wry tone of someone who was trying not to be offended.
“I’m sorry about that,” I said at the end of the session. “I don’t know where my head was.”
“No problem.” Brendan helped me pack up and then walked me out to my car. His was the last interview of the day, and now the sun was at its lowest point in the sky, just about to slip beneath the horizon. It would be almost eight before I got to Julian’s.
“You don’t look so good, Wills,” Brendan said after we’d loaded the gear into my trunk. “I mean, hot as ever, but sick.”
I laughed. Brendan had long ceased to flirt with me and become an overly honest, blunt, big-brother figure. “I’m just tired. Long days.”
“Don’t work so hard then.”
Now we both laughed. We both knew that this business didn’t let you choose how hard you worked. It was feast or famine. Too much work or not enough. I hugged Brendan goodbye and got on the freeway, pointed toward Venice. It didn’t even occur to me that my own apartment was closer. Julian’s place was my default now. Camper was even there, set up with a sleek, self-cleaning litter box that Julian had brought home one day.
Maybe that was the day I’d let myself fall in love with him. I couldn’t remember now. I rubbed a knuckle into my tired eyes as I drove. Sleepiness hit me like a wave, crashing over me, nearly pulling my eyelids shut. I straightened up in my seat and took deep, long breaths. What was going on with me tonight? Had I really just nearly closed my eyes on the freeway?