Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 109299 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109299 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
That sounds fantastic. I smile so big as I meet her gaze, not even waiting to text back, instead asking quietly, “Are you going to go public?”
“It’s so early,” she says, a nervous smile twisting her lips. “But would it make it easier for you if I did?”
My brow pinches. “What? No! What do you mean?”
“Do you want me to go public so people know I’m not with Chris? Maybe then you won’t have to deal with all the trouble of having a bodyguard.”
I blanch for so many reasons. First, she and William have only gone on a few actual dates. I don’t want to pressure her to go public to make my little life easier. Plus, what if she and William don’t last long? Then she’s having to acknowledge a breakup in the public eye. Best they be solid before she does announce a relationship status. Besides, the shoot’s over soon, and even if she soft-launched her romance tonight, I’d probably still need a bodyguard for the rest of the shoot given how Haven’s star has risen quickly over the last year. I also really, really like having a bodyguard, it turns out.
I grab her wrist and squeeze it. “Nope. What I want, though, are all the details of your date with the hot Irish bookstore owner.”
“And you’ll get them,” she says.
Then Tabitha calls out, “Haven Addison.”
My sister rushes back to the set, waving to me as she goes.
That night, we prep for the full switcheroo, enlisting our bodyguards in it too, so we can sell the ruse to any photographers hanging around outside The BookHouse. Banks is off tonight, so one of his backups is covering me, a sturdy guy named Marcus who Banks knows from the Marines too.
“This might be all for nothing,” Haven says as we settle onto her bed to polish my nails. “Sometimes the press is here at the hotel. Sometimes random tourists are, and they take pics of me.”
“It’s definitely not for nothing. Did you see those set pics the other day?” The film’s PR department released more photos from the shoot.
“I did. It’s so surreal,” Haven says, then shifts again to the matter at hand. “You really don’t mind?”
I scoff. “Not only do I not mind, I insist. Because you’re never too old to play twin tricks.”
“Truth,” she says.
“And besides, Addison girls don’t cut corners.”
“We go all out.”
I paint my nails the same light-pink shade as hers, then grab one of her hoodies. But even as we’re having a blast, a kernel of guilt wedges into my chest, like a stone in a shoe. Haven’s been open with me about her budding romance. Surely I could do the same about mine. We protect each other. We don’t reveal each other’s secrets.
On the hotel bed, as I flap my hands around to dry the polish, I weigh the possibility of telling her when her phone rings. She stretches across the mattress to grab it from the nightstand.
“Hi, Michelle,” she says.
Ah, it’s her agent.
“They do?”
A pause.
“When?”
Another pause.
“Of course I can do it.”
One more pause. This one is long and Haven nods with wide eyes, her smile growing bigger by the second. As she listens, I flash back to the last time I was in a hotel. Not with Haven, when I stopped by the other week. But more than a month ago. The night I met Banks. I picture opening the door of the room for our tryst and hoping it’d be him.
Then, I remember my embarrassment when the hotel clerk stood there with an envelope of rejection. I can see the moment so clearly, but I don’t feel those emotions anymore. The foolishness has vanished. The shame has faded away. I’m no longer worried about my terrible track record with men and what that might mean. I don’t see myself any more as the know-it-all, the too independent one, the pushy one, like I told Grandma I feared I was.
Sure, I am those things, but I’m okay with that, because I let Banks get to know the real me. He’s shown me who he is too. My whole heart softens as I think of him.
I want to tell Haven about this unexpected romance. I’m desperate to tell her. Maybe I can soon, since so much has changed over the last few weeks.
When the call ends, I shove away the memory and shelve the desire as Haven says, “First, The Madison Marlowe Show invited me as a guest when I return to LA.”
“The late-night talk show?” I squeak out. It’s become one of the most popular interview shows on-air.
“Yes, to talk about the movie and everything. Plus, there’s some interest in me for a lead on a TV show.”
I gasp. TV is the golden goose. “Tell me everything.”
She shares the details, telling me Vega is writing a script for TV and potentially wants to work with Haven again. When she’s done, there’s no time for me to confess my burgeoning romance. Maybe tomorrow. Or another day. “That’s awesome,” I say.