What.
Did.
You.
Do?
You don’t read the tabloids anymore, huh?
And that’s how I was out the door, racing to the nearest drugstore (after wiping off and apologizing profusely to my poor laptop, of course), finding the issue that came out yesterday with a little shot of Aaron on one side of the cover. I buy the magazine, jump back in the car and vow not to open it until I get back home, in case I’m tempted to do something insane after seeing whatever is in here.
Somehow I make it back to my dining room table before flinging the rag open, flying through the pages until I find theStars: They’re just like you and mespread. Sure enough, there’s my best friend, front and center, walking into an NYC hotspot, midday judging from how bright it is outside, proudly wearing one of my shirts that saysFictional men do it better. The caption that accompanies the pic lists my shop as the source of his shirt.
Did he…flyto New York and back in a single day, just to get spotted by paps?
Tears spring to my eyes. I bring the magazine up to my face and bury myself in it, squealing and flailing my feet around like an absolute idiot. After a few minutes of celebrating, fanning my face, and basically just fangirling over this man and his support of me, I check my shop again to make sure it’s not too good to be true.
It’s not.
Well, it is, but it’s not.
I’ve gotten more sales in the past day than I did in the last three weeks my shop has been up and running. This is the kind of word of mouth I need to grow and be able to offer more products and expand my line to where I want it to be.
And it’s thanks to him.
The guy whohatespaparazzi and being in magazines. But he set this up, did this for me.
Me
I see it now.
You’re a jerk.
And I love you.
The Kid
You wanna say that to my face?
omw
Wait
Can you be at my place at five?
Wrapping something up
Seriously?
It’ll be worth it ??
Between now and then, I know what I need to be ready for.
Moving forward with this kid.
This kid who’s such a fucking idiot, but he’s a sweet one, and he’smyidiot, dammit. I still can’t believe he assumed I was pregnant and offered to raise the baby with me. The memory of the sincerity on his face as he offered to be a father to an imaginary kid who wasn’t his makes me snort a laugh (an appreciative one) even now, alone in my dining room.
In his defense, for all the months in all the years he’s been bringing me croissants, he’s never been wrong once. Then again, I was never on a hormonal IUD that ended up stopping my periods until recently, either. But the fact that he made that offer, that he really thought that’s what our future held, and he was here for it? Definitely warmed my heart.
