It’s time to figure out my next move.
But first things first.
I search the web for the nearest laundromat and plug the address into Google Maps. Then I climb out of bed and collect all my dirty laundry. Might as well wash everything while I’m there.
Once the bag is full, I turn my attention to the unmade bed at the front of the trailer.
I draw a steadying breath and stride forward, grabbing the corner of the sheet and giving it a firm tug. Miles’s citrus-and-cedarwood scent fills the air, and I bring the soft cotton to my nose, inhaling deeply.
It smells just like him.
Which is why it needs to be washed today.
No more delays.
The sooner I erase all reminders of him from Tallulah, the better.
It’ll be like he was never here.
Yeah, and then another lucrative endorsement deal will drop into your lap.
A girl can dream.
Clearly, this morning is going to require mass quantities of caffeine.
I trudge to the kitchenette and start the coffeemaker. I’m just about to head for the bathroom and a much-needed shower when my phone rings.
I tap accept and raise the phone to my ear. “Hi, Gran.”
“Sugar, it’s been two days since you posted on the ’Gram. Where are my hot billionaire pics?”
Well, hello to you, too.
I sigh. There’s no point delaying the inevitable. “Miles and I have gone our separate ways.”
There’s a sharp intake of breath.
“Everything okay, Gran?”
She ignores the question. “What do you mean, you’ve gone your separate ways? Your followers are thirsty, and that man is a tall drink of water.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose and channel my inner Yoda. “Well, my followers will just have to find other sources to quench their thirst. I’m sure there are plenty.”
Gran harrumphs. “Yes, dear, but Miles ischef’s kiss.”
I roll my eyes, unsure if I should be horrified or impressed she used the phrase correctly. Either way, the woman is spending entirely too much time on social media.
“I understand, Gran.” Boy, do I ever. “But he won’t be coming back.”
“Why not?”
“Things between us got…complicated.”
Gran chuckles. “That’s code for sex, isn’t it?”
Obviously, but…
“What makes you say that?” I ask, stalling for time.
