I bet it will.
“Have you packed for the tour yet?”
“No. I’ll get to it tomorrow,” I say, relieved by the change in subject. “Sixteen stops this time, so I’ll have to take two suitcases.”
“Oh, big-timer,” he teases. “Nora still going with you?”
“Yep.” I force a smile, but inside, I feel like I’m suffocating at the thought of a book tour. At having to lie to my readers about what inspired this book, and somehow doing it convincingly. I’m scared to even do this tour, simply because it’s the first tour I’ve done since the fallout from my adaptation. I don’t know what to expect, so adding lies into the promotion makes it even more nerve racking.
I just hope people show up. And that they show up with good intentions.
The lies I’ve been having to tell are beginning to stack on top of each other, threatening to bury me alive. I want to tell Shephard the truth, to let it all out, but I can’t. Not now.
Not ever.
Shephard leans in to kiss me again, and I let him, my lips moving against his, but my mind is far away. It’s back in that cabin, with Saint standing in the doorway, watching me leave. As much as I want to forget, I know I’ll never be able to escape what happened.
Shephard’s hand moves to my breast, so I part my thighs to give him what I know he wants. Within seconds, he’s inside me.
We have more sex now than we did before Saint came into my life. I think part of it has to do with the fact that I feel like I’ve betrayed Shephard in so many ways, that making love to him is my Hail Mary. If I give Shephard his favorite thing, maybe it’ll erase some of the terrible things I’ve done.
But I also make love to Shephard more often now because when he’s inside me, I close my eyes and pretend I’m being fucked by Saint.
No matter how hard I try not to, my thoughts always veer back to the thrill of everything Saint put me through. As much as I hate him and myself for what happened, I can’t deny that my attraction to him was real. The feelings my body experienced during the intimate moments with him were real. And even though I live with constant guilt and regret, I’m still human. I still have depraved fantasies that will never be spoken aloud to another human. Which is why, when Shephard is fucking me, I imagine Saint in his place. Because Shephard can’t read my thoughts. Because I’m human. And no matter how much of a lesson I’ve learned in life, I can be whoever I want to be in my fantasy.
And in this particular fantasy, I am out on the lake in the boat with Saint, and he’s the one who just crawled on top of me after readingWoman Down.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Today is the official release day forWoman Down. It’s been over two years since I last released a novel. Releases normally feel like a dream, but this one sort of feels like a nightmare.
I’ve been through this process more times than I can remember, but this time is different. The success or failure of this particular book rests heavier on my shoulders thanks to all the guilt that came with my experience writing it.
I don’t even care if it hits a bestseller list. I don’t even care if people like it. I just hope I can make it through this first appearance and Q&A in one piece. If I get emotional and run offstage again, I can just imagine all the coconut Pepperidge Farm cakes I’ll be consuming in my bed while I figure out a new career path.
My chest tightens with every passing moment. I can hear the faint hum of voices outside the greenroom where I’m waiting, a reminder that soon, I’ll have to face that crowd and answer every question they have about the book. About anything, really.
Nora asked if I wanted the questions vetted, but I told her no. I need to face whatever is coming my way, no matter how vulnerable it makes me feel.
Nora stands beside me, her energy as bright and bubbly as ever, but today, it feels like her confidence only amplifies my anxiety. She glances at me, concern flickering in her eyes as she picks up on the storm of emotions swirling inside me. I’ve always been able to hide my nerves from everyone else, but not Nora.
“You’ve done this a million times,” she says reassuringly. “Everyone in that room is here because they’re happyyou’rehere.”
“What if that’s not true? What if there are people here with bad intentions so they can get a video that’ll make me look stupid and go viral, like the last Q&A I did?”
Nora grabs both my hands in hers. “Hey,” she says, her voice a whisper. “You’ve already gone viral. You’ve already looked stupid. It’s too late to worry about that.”
Her response makes me cackle. “You’re right. You are absolutely right.”
The store manager finally calls my name, my cue to walk out onto the stage. Nora grabs my purse and phone from me and gives me a reassuring smile. “You’ve got this, Petra. Easy peasy.”
I leave her backstage and step out from behind the curtains, my heart thudding in my chest as I force a smile onto my face. The bookstore manager’s voice echoes faintly in my ears, something about how excited they are to host me, how proud they are of the turnout. But all I can focus on is the sea of faces, and just how many of them there are.
There are so many people. I freeze in place for a few seconds, surprised by the turnout.People actually showed up.And the smile that’s plastered on my face might be a real one.
I take a deep breath, my legs trembling slightly as I continue making my way across the stage, the soft glow of the overhead lights doing little to warm the cold nerves pooling in my stomach.
I wave at the crowd and then settle into the chair, smoothing my hands over my lap as I try to find my center. The manager continues to speak, naming off my bestsellers, but it feels distant, like I’m watching from underwater. My fingers toy with the edge of the armrest as I prepare myself for the inevitable barrage of questions, knowing that this moment is where the real vulnerability begins.
