“Jackie told me I was to kiss you if given the opportunity,” he says.
“Then fucking kiss Jackie. I am not Jackie. And while we’re at it, you do not rush me when I am interacting with fans. Ever.” A moment passes, and we stare at one another, and the look onhis face changes in an instant, the charm turning off instantly. It makes a shiver run down my spine, and not the good kind Leo gives me.
“What are you going to do?” he says. “You’re as locked into this as I am.”
And whether I like it or not, he’s not completely wrong. For the first time in a long time, I feel trapped, and he must recognize it, because his lips tip up, that cruel smile growing more confident.
And in that moment, I know the next six months are going to be longer than I ever expected.
THIRTY-TWO
WILLA
I stay silent for the rest of the drive to drop Chris off, then sit the rest of the drive back to my place, stuck in my thoughts, desperately trying to center myself and organize my mind. But when my phone rings in my hand, Leo’s name on the screen, I answer without thinking.
“Hi,” I say low, reaching up to the wig and pulling out the pins that keep it in place. I’m increasingly grateful for it and the anonymity it gives me, but after a full day as Willa Stone, I’m eager to just beWilla.
“Hey, honey. How are you?” he says, and with it, a sense of relief moves through me.
“Good, I’m in the car on the way back.” Before he can ask me how the date went, since I’m not sure how to respond just yet, I slide the wig off and take a deep breath. “Trying to get this wig off.”
“How’d that go?” he asks with a laugh, bedding moving behind him quietly as he seems to settle in. In my mind, he’s in bed already, tired and mussed, and I try to shelve the disappointment that I’m not there, too.
“‘Jackie’s annoyed, but I like it. It’s an added layer separating my lives.”
“Easier to transition from Willa Stone to Holly Ridge Willa,” he says, and I grin as I remove the wig cap, then the pins holding my hair in place, shaking it out with a relieved sigh.
“Exactly. So how was your day?”
“Fine, the cab back to Holly Ridge was easy. Adam was able to grab that piece of furniture for you, so I’ll get it tomorrow.”
I squeal with excitement.
“Don’t strip it without me,” I beg, and he chuckles.
“Of course not.”
“I’m bummed you’re going to even be working on the house without me,” I grumble, and that laugh sounds again, free and happy in a way I hadn’t heard before Holly Ridge, and with it, warmth fills me.
“You would hate refinishing the floors, will, trust me. Sanding and stripping are a pain.”
“I think stripping could be kind of fun.”
When he hesitates for a moment, I can’t help it. I laugh again. “The floors, you sicko,” I explain. We continue to chat as Gabe takes me home, and I sink deeper into the chair, feeling comfortable. “What’s this gift?” I ask, and there’s a smile in his voice.
“Are you home yet?”
“Pulling into my garage now,” I say.
“Then you’ll see soon. Call me once you open it.”
“What—” But I can’t ask because he’s hanging up and leaving me holding a silent phone. Before I can call him back, though, the car stops, and Gabe opens the door, helping me out before seeing me into my place and heading out. Once he’s gone, I head to my room, where my suitcases wait to be unpacked. I open the largest one, hoping I picked right, and when I unzip it, there’s a white bag tied with a bright red bow sitting on top of my things,a bag I very much didnotbag up. I grab it eagerly, then move to sit on the edge of the bed. My hands reach for one of the ends of the bow, but my phone dings before I can tug on it.
Did you open it yet?
Not yet. Impatient much?
Unbearably.
