Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 96802 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96802 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
And maybe I needed to cut my dad some more slack.
I drove back to my dad’s house in a daze. My mom always had that effect on me. I just needed to get inside and change, and then I could take Taylor to PT. Thinking about her would be a good way to not think about my own life.
I parked the Mercedes behind my dad’s truck and trudged up to the front. With a yawn, I pulled opened the front door. I stepped inside, prepared to call for Taylor.
But I stopped with one foot inside.
My dad and stepmom were both standing in the living room. Taylor leaned into her crutches and had apparently just stopped talking as I entered. They were all clustered around the couch.
Where Court Kensington sat like a fish out of water.
39
English
“Court?” I asked with wide eyes.
I couldn’t believe he was in my dad’s house… in LA… in the fucking Valley. What kind of alternate universe was I living in?
He stood hastily, dusting off his jeans. “Anna,” he said softly.
“What are you doing here?”
“I came here for you,” he said so sincerely that I thought I might fall over.
He’d come all the way to LA for me.
My dad cleared his throat. “Well, don’t mind us. Maybe we can finish that talk later, Court. You two should take some quality time and talk.”
“That’s a great idea,” Taylor said, grinning like a fool. It was the first time I’d really seen her smile since the incident. “Go to the beach!”
“Taylor, honey, just let them decide what they want to do,” Ashley said. “Why don’t we get ready for your PT appointment?”
“Oh, I was going to take her,” I said.
Ashley waved me off. “No need. I can handle it.”
My dad just nodded his head at me and then followed Ashley and Taylor out of the room.
“The beach might be nice,” Court said. “Since it was thirty degrees when I left New York.”
“I just… can’t believe you’re in my dad’s living room.”
“To be honest, it was not easy to find.”
“How?” I muttered. “How did this even happen?”
“Taylor actually. She gave me her number when we were at Oktoberfest. I was supposed to send her book recommendations. Instead, she helped me get to you.”
“Little weasel,” I muttered under my breath.
“So… beach?”
I nodded. “All right, but I need to change first.”
“No problem. I’ll wait here. Your stepmom was just regaling me with stories of your childhood.”
I groaned. “Great.”
I hastened upstairs and changed into jean shorts and a tank top, pulled my hair up into a high pony, and added a coat of pink lipstick just because. Why the hell not? I took a deep breath and then went back downstairs.
Court was still standing in my dad’s living room. It was utterly surreal.
“Ready?” I asked.
“Sure.”
We walked back out to my Mercedes. He didn’t offer to drive, which I thought was a relief. A lot of men got weird about that sort of thing. But I definitely had more driving experience than Court… and it was my city.
We drove away. I turned on the radio and let the Top 100 station drown out the silence on the drive down to Santa Monica. Parking was as awful as ever. Maybe worse because it was so beautiful out today, but I finally nabbed a spot not too far away from the pier.
We stepped out of the car and headed toward the pier. I didn’t know what to say. I’d left him behind in New York. I hadn’t even had enough time to think about what the fuck I wanted to do. If I could forgive and forget him lying to me. Or why he’d done it in the first place. It all just hung between us as we walked.
“Sooo…” I prompted a few minutes later.
“Yeah, so…” he said. He glanced up at me. “I missed you.”
I swallowed. “I missed you, too.”
“It’s been almost two weeks. It felt like a fucking lifetime.”
“God, two weeks already?”
“Close to it,” he said. “Taylor seems to be in better spirits.”
“I don’t know. That smile she gave me was the first one I’d seen since she woke up from the sedative.”
“She’ll get there.”
I nodded. “I hope so.”
We were nearly to the pier by that point, and Court pulled me off of the path, grinding us to a halt.
“I just… I know you saw Josh this weekend,” he said with his hand still on my arm.
“I did,” I said in confusion. “How do you know that?”
“I’m guessing that you’re not following your own celebrity status right now?”
I groaned. “Oh god, what happened?”
He pulled out his phone and then passed it to me. I cringed before I even read the headline. Then, I cringed some more.
“Fuck,” I groaned. “Jesus, fucking fuck.”
I skimmed the article. I hated tabloids. I hated tabloids and paparazzi and these fake fucking journalists. The lies they spun like spiderwebs. It was just drama. Pure, unfiltered cotton-candy-spun drama. And not a lick of it was the truth.