Except there’s nothing regular about any of this anymore.
I toss my overnight bag onto the bed and try to remember what normal felt like. You know, back when I wasn’t living with a billionaire and his daughter during a media siege. Back when my biggest crisis was deciding which filter made me look least like a potato.
Those were the days.
Except they weren’t. Those days were hollow. Chasing views that meant nothing. Building a brand on quicksand.
My phone buzzes again. This time it’s a photo.Ben holding Frederick up to the camera. Her hair is in the pineapple tie I taught her. The ringlets are perfect.
The caption reads:Frederick says goodnight.
I’m not crying. I’m absolutely not crying over a stuffed snail.
Tell Frederick I said sweet dreams,I type back. Then add:And tell Ben, too.
I set the phone down and force myself to unpack. Toiletries in the bathroom. Dirty clothes in the hamper. The laminated Brave Rules card I’ve been carrying falls out of my bag and lands face-up on the floor.
One, two, three squeeze.
Smell the cocoa. Blow the steam.
I’ve been using it myself. More than I want to admit. Especially during those long nights in the primary suite when Marco was only just outside the room and I had to keep reminding my body that we’d agreed to put us on ice.
Narrator voice: The ice was extremely thin.
I should shower. Should eat something that isn’t the emergency snacks Rosa packed for me. Should do literally anything except stand here feeling weirdly homesick for a house that isn’t mine.
Instead I pull up my notes app and add to the Brave Bites draft I’ve been working on.
Card 3:The Three-Count Touch.
When food feels scary,we makeit friendly.
- Step 1:Look (name the color)
- Step 2: Touch (just one finger)
- Step 3: Smell (close your eyes)
Remember:Brave and scared can live in the same body.
It’s good.Simple. The kind of thing that might actually help a kid who’s anxious about trying new foods.
The kind of thing I never would have thought to create back when I was chasing a million subscribers and brand deals.
My phone buzzes. Amara this time.You survive the lockdown?
Barely,I type back.But I’m home now. Ben’s safe. Press cleared.
Three dots. Then:And the hot boss situation?
I groan out loud even though no one can hear me.Still hot. Still my boss. Still impossible.
You’re a stronger woman than me,she replies.
Am I though? Because I spent three nights sleeping in Marco Fiore’s house and the only thing that kept me from violating every remaining boundary was a five-year-old chaperone and a promise we made to protect her first.
Debatable,I send back.
