Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 33298 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 166(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33298 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 166(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
“Nothing is going to fix this,” I tell them. Blade didn’t just lie to me. He let me go. He stood there and said nothing as I walked out the door. After everything we shared, I thought I meant something to him. I thought I was at least worth fighting for.
My phone dings with a notification. The limo is here, and the world expects the bubbly romance writer to show up with her usual enthusiasm. My fans will get nothing less than that. They’re why I’m here, and I’ll do them proud as I take the stage and represent curvy women everywhere.
The limo ride passes in a blur, so do the backstage activities. I’m vaguely aware that I’m signing autographs for some of the crew members and chatting with them. But it’s like I’m watching from outside my body. I don’t even recognize the girl that’s smiling and laughing along with everyone.
Finally, I’m led to the green room where I meet with Maddy. She’s every bit as nice and bubbly as she seems on TV. She greets me with a warm, motherly hug before she hugs Zoey and Piper too. She asks me a few questions and tells me she wants to do lunch after the taping.
“She seems genuine,” Piper remarks as she flops down on the couch beside me when Maddy has left.
“A sweetheart,” Zoey agrees, sitting on my other side. She puts an arm around my shoulders. “We’re proud of you. I hope you know that.”
I smile at her words, my first genuine smile since I left Blade’s cabin. “I’m proud of me too.”
Maybe that’s the key. Maybe it’s time to stop searching for love and instead, choose to love myself and to embrace my friends that love me.
There’s a knock on the door and for a moment, I expect it to be another crew member. They’ve offered me waters and snacks since the moment I walked in the door. A few have asked for selfies, and I didn’t say no to a single request. I’m grateful to be here today, even if my heart hurts.
But when the door opens, it’s not a crew member. It’s my mom and behind her, my dad. I blink for a second, certain that I’ve imagined them here. Oh, shit, are they here to disown me? Making a dramatic scene really isn’t my mom’s style, but there’s a first time for everything.
She glances at me sheepishly, looking uncertain for the first time I can ever remember. “Is it OK? Can we come back here?”
“If you can be supportive, sure,” I answer, keeping my voice casual. I remind myself again about my determination to love myself. I’m done asking for scraps from my parents. I deserve real, authentic love in every relationship.
“I want to grab one of those delicious looking Danish pastries,” Piper announces and Zoey follows her from the room.
My mom fidgets with the collar of her button-up shirt when it’s just the three of us. She always looks so professional and put-together. She casts a panicked look at my dad. “This is a bad idea. We should go.”
He takes her hands from her collar and gives them a gentle squeeze. He nods his head, as if reassuring her she can do this. My mom is normally so confident. I’ve seen her give lectures to thousands of students, all eager to hear from her. But right now, she looks sad and awkward. “I’m sorry,” she blurts out.
I blink, not sure what she’s apologizing for. I’ve never heard my mom apologize. She’s right even when she’s wrong. “For what?”
She looks at my dad, her brown eyes seeking his approval. “I said it.”
For the first time in my life, I realize I’m not the only one he’s ignored all this time. He’s also ignored my mom. Part of me wonders if that’s why she’s always pushing herself to be more, to do more. Is it possible she’s spent her life hoping for his affection as much as I’ve spent it hoping for theirs?
He nods his encouragement. He’s engaging with my mom, interacting with her. What kind of weird day is this?
“We don’t want to lose you,” Dad says, clearing his throat. He’s focusing his attention on the abstract art painting above my head instead of me.
Mom continues, “We haven’t been…supportive or…kind. I’ve let you think that I was ashamed of you…when the truth is, you’re an incredible writer. I read two of your books on the plane. They were good. Really good.”
I blink away tears, not wanting to ruin the makeup that’s been carefully applied. It’s not that my mom thinks my books are good. She’s read them. She’s paying attention to me. “You said they’re scandalous sex stories.”
“Maybe…I was a little bit wrong.” She flitters about, moving to stand near the couch. She looks lost and sad. That’s why I pat the seat beside me.