WILLA
Over the next few weeks, I go on six more highly public dates with Chris. None of them is any less annoying. Still, as with every other fake relationship I’ve had, I figure out how to avoid issues and frustration.
Jackie and I thankfully fall back into our normal groove, part playful ribbing and part maternal, though there is definitely a learning curve for both of us as we try to navigate how my new backbone fits into our working relationship. Thankfully, she doesn’t try to push my boundaries any further, and I make life a bit easier on her by wearing whatever outfit she suggests and smiling at each and every event she asks me to attend.
I drop hints left and right about the next album, and we bump up the recording to October, something I am incredibly pleased with since it will mean that the second and probably third month of my fake relationship, I will be busy with work, and I won’t have as much ‘free’ time for appearances with Chris.
During these weeks, Leo is also wildly busy, making sure my album promo is falling into place for early next year, helping Adam with a slew of new deals, and working on the rollout for Atlas Oaks’ new album, all while diligently finishing the guestroom for his mom’s visit. Every day, he sends me a handful of different decor pieces, asking for my opinion on everything from wallpaper to decorations to wood finishes. I know he’s mostly doing it because I miss being home and working on the house with him, but I appreciate more than he knows that he continues to include me in the small, ordinary moments as he works on what I’ve begun to think of asourhome.
Despite our busy schedules, we somehow fall into a reliable routine.
Every morning, I call Leo, and we chat before we get on with our days.
Throughout each day, we send each other texts, little moments ofthis made me think of you,orlove you,orhere’s something that just happened to me.
Every day, I miss him a little more.
Every night, he reminds me of just how many days until I’ll be back in Holly Ridge for Hallie and Jesse’s wedding when we talk on the phone until we fall asleep.
In a way, it’s another first, another moment I didn’t have, that teenage feeling of being so obsessed with someone you have to talk to them every night, late into the night, and just like every other first, I cherish it.
Although I find I have yet again fallen into a routine, it’s much different than the bland, lifeless one I was living before Holly Ridge.
I don’t get up at the ass crack of dawn, mostly because I’m up late talking to Leo. I don’t roll right out of bed and start getting ready. Instead, when I wake up the morning of my mom’s charity gala, I go about my new routine. I reach across the bed to my bedside table, where my phone is plugged in. I find Leo’s number and hit video call before snuggling back into bed, setting it before my face.
“Morning, honey,” he murmurs, his own voice raspy and rough, and it makes that ache in my chest throb. It’s been three weeks living this new routine, and some days, I think thosemorning, honeysare one of the only things that keep me going.
That, and the promise that in about ten months, we’ll be in a position for me to hear it every morning, whispered into my neck instead of across a phone line.
“Morning,” I yawn, turning to my side and curling into a ball. I’m wearing Leo’s old Midnight Ash tee. I still rotate his tees for sleep, though they’ve lost his scent. I’m so far gone that I bought his cologne and spray it on my things before bed, just to feel less homesick.
It’s not working perfectly, but it eases it a bit.
“What do you have on for the day?” Leo asks a few minutes into our morning murmurings. Sometimes, I have to rack my brain to remember my schedule. But not today. I’ve been eagerly awaiting this morning’s activity all week.
“This morning I’m going to All That Jazz,” I say of the dance studio I try to visit when I’m in town. It’s one of the few secrets I’ve managed to keep from the public. Any time I spend there always brings me utter joy. I donate regularly, quietly funding scholarships for dancers who can’t afford the expensive tuition. I love taking a private lesson from the owner, a sweet, older woman named Margo, whenever I can.
“Just remember to go in through the back,” Leo reminds me, making me smile. “With everyone on alert for your mom’s event today, they’re going to be on the lookout for you.” I smile, loving that he knows this is just for me. Over the years, Jackie has tried to convince me to publicize the good I do, and sometimes I give in. In others, I prefer to keep it quiet. Margo likes things at her studio to be quiet and understated. She doesn’t want extra publicity. I like having a few places where I can justbe.
“I will. Gabe’s already got it covered. Then, after, I have to head back here to get ready for the gala. Harper designed the dress—it’s so pretty. I can’t wait to wear it. It’s cream, which makes Jackie happy, but it’s covered in pastel butterflies.”
“An easter egg,” he murmurs, and I grin at his knowledge of all of the small moments I’m trying to hint at. After Adam, he was thefirstperson to hear the rough recording of it in its entirety. When I miss him the most, I close my eyes and pull up the soft look he gave me when he realized that each and every track, other than “Are You Mine?” and “Good Trouble,” was about him.
“Send me pictures,” he says. “I’m sure you’re going to be dazzling.”
“Okay,” I whisper with a smile on my lips.
“And more tonight.” Now his voice is a bit gruff, low, and gravelly in a way that makes liquid heat pool in my belly.
“You want pictures tonight?” I ask, a smile tipping my lips. “You’ll be long asleep by the time I get home.” We already had the argument about him staying up late, with him trying to convince me it was fine, but I didn't want him to burden himself, so I know he’ll be long asleep by the time I roll in around midnight.
“That’s why I said pictures, and not a video. Give me something good to wake up to,” he murmurs, his voice husky now. I swallow. I lick my lips, deciding he will get a video tonight, too.
“Will you do the same?” My breathing goes a bit shallow despite the early hour, despite the fact that I’m barely awake.
“Whatever you want, honey,” he murmurs.
“I want that.”
