Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 78016 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78016 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
She immediately went on alert, saying if he didn’t want to be part of the baby’s life, he could pay her off.
Could she be any more cliché?
“Actually, he’s excited. He’s always wanted a baby,” I lied. “Once we run the DNA test and get it confirmed, he’ll reach out and discuss the custody details.”
A few hours later, her account had been deleted, proving what Braxton said was true—he didn’t sleep with her—and leaving me with a shit ton of questions I’m dying for the answers to, starting with... Was his dry spell because of me? And if so, what the hell does that mean?
I push my thoughts away, though, because it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t change anything. In a few hours, I’ll be back on the East Coast, looking for a job. As I pull my stuff out of the small closet I was given on the bus I share with several other tour employees, I can’t help but think about how off course my life has gone. Six years ago, I was about to graduate high school and had my entire future ahead of me. I was happy and in love and couldn’t wait for what was to come. Now, I’m alone and jobless, and I only have myself to blame.
“There you are,” a masculine voice says from behind me. Expecting everyone to be at the venue already, I jump, knocking my suitcase to the floor. The entire contents spill out, and I sigh in defeat.
“What are you doing?” Braxton asks, bending to help pick my stuff up.
“I got it.” I grab my panties from him and shove them back into my luggage. “Thanks.”
“Going somewhere?”
“Flight is for noon.” I stand and set the suitcase back on my bunk. It’s tight in the hallway, and when I look up, Braxton is close... too close to me. “Did you need something before I go?”
“Easton said you handled that woman like a pro. She disappeared, deleting all her accounts and shit. And the statement you made on my account was worded perfectly. Thanks.”
“Of course. It’s my job.” I reach down to grab my suitcase to zip it up, but Braxton stops me in my place, his fingers wrapping around my bicep.
“I don’t want you to leave.” His words come out raspy, almost sounding desperate, and I have to force myself not to read too much into them.
“I think we both know my coming on this tour was a mistake.”
“Maybe,” he says. “But you’re here now, and...the band needs you.”
My stomach drops at his admittance. He doesn’t need me. The band does. I wasn’t expecting him to say he needs me, but a small part of me was hoping he would.
“We still have more than half of the tour left,” he adds. “And next week, we’ll be in Florida at the theme parks.” His lips quirk into a half-smile, and a flashback from our past hits me hard.
“Paris.”
“Why Paris?”
Braxton shrugs, and I roll over to face him, wrapping my arm around his torso. We started this game of “If you could...” months ago, and whenever we’re bored, one of us will throw one out there. Mine was, if you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go? Braxton’s answer was Paris.
“Tell me,” I say, kissing his flesh.
His gaze darts to mine, and he clears his throat. “My mom used to say when you can afford to visit the Eiffel Tower, it means you’ve made it. I was young when she left, but for some reason, I always remember her saying that.”
The mention of his mom leaves me momentarily stunned. In the years I’ve known Braxton, including all the months we’ve been together, he’s never once mentioned his mom. Layla once said Camden told her she left him and his dad years ago. She was some huge actress, but I don’t know who she is. I’m assuming she doesn’t use the same last name as Braxton’s, which is Lutz.
“How about you?” he asks, breaking the silence.
“Florida.”
“Florida?” He laughs and rolls us over so he’s on top of me. “Why Florida?” He kisses the corner of my mouth, and I shiver in anticipation.
“Specifically, Tampa and Orlando. I’ve never been to a theme park.” I shrug nonchalantly. “My dad always worked too much. And then the accident happened, and my mom didn’t have the money. I’ve always wanted to go to Disney and Universal and Busch Gardens. Ride the roller coasters and take pictures with the princesses.”
Braxton chuckles. “We’ll go together. You and me. Once we have the money, we’ll ride every damn ride there is and take a million pictures.”
“And then we’ll go to Paris,” I add. “Take a picture in front of the Eiffel Tower.”
“Damn right, we will,” he says, pressing his lips to mine.
“I can’t wait.”
“Have you been?” Braxton asks, shaking me from my memory.