Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 96292 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96292 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
“Jesus …” My mom rubs her temples.
Grandma looks at my dad. “Are you really going to let your wife guilt me after everything that happened with your father?”
Grandpa Malone died of cancer. I don’t know what she’s referring to as “everything,” but I know he suffered. Is she afraid of suffering too?
“Dr. Hayslip,” Mom says, pushing back in her chair. “Thank you for arranging this meeting. We appreciate everyone’s time. But I think our family has a lot to discuss before moving forward.”
Grandma is halfway to the door with her designer handbag over one shoulder, blond and silver hair over her other, before Dr. Hayslip nods, offering us a sad smile.
I chase her down the hallway. “Grandma!”
She stops, back to me. Then her shoulders curl inward, body shaking. “I’m d-dying, Z-zoya.”
I hug her as tears burn my eyes. This is different. It’s the first time she’s cried in front of me.
“But y-you’re not. So don’t run f-from your destiny.” She sniffles, releasing me to wipe her eyes.
My parents stop a few feet behind her, arms around each other, giving me this moment with her.
I swipe my fingers beneath my eyes and slowly nod. “One concert for every month of treatment.”
After Grandpa Zach died, my parents moved in with Grandma Juni. Her twenty-five-million-dollar estate in Beverly Hills sits on two acres, a timeless design with a half-moon drive, manicured gardens, a dual staircase in the entry with a grand crystal chandelier, coffered ceilings, seven bedrooms, a pool, tennis courts, and a recording studio.
Flynn would hate it.
My bedroom has a private balcony overlooking the pool.
When I collapse onto the king bed with white cotton linens and puffy pillows in every shade of pink, Grandma’s favorite color, I stare at the text from Flynn.
Hi.
That’s it.
“Knock. Knock,” Mom says, poking her head into the room.
“Come in.”
“Whatcha doing?” she asks, plopping down beside me.
I don’t hide the text from Flynn. She knows he broke my heart. But unlike her and Dad, I don’t think Flynn will be able to put it back together because I’ll always be Zoya Malone, only granddaughter of Juniper Carlisle and Zachary Isaac Phillips, fashion and music royalty.
“You know,” Mom says, resting her head against mine, “after I fell for your dad in Coachella, he never thought he’d see me again, but we texted all summer. And I knew our time wasn’t over. Our story had only just begun.”
I smile. “I know. I love yours and dad’s story.”
She hums. “That’s what I always said to my mom about her love story with my dad. And do you know what she said?”
I laugh. “Yeah, you’ve told me a million times.”
“Well, I’m going to tell you a million more times. She said some loves are temporary, and some are forever. It’s all about timing. Timing guides our lives more than love. Love is just an emotion—timing is our destiny. Missed opportunities. Serendipity. Fate … it’s all about timing, not love.”
“That’s why Grandma always talks about destiny.”
“Yep.” She steals my phone. “So explore this. See if it’s your destiny.” She types “hi” back to Flynn and presses send.
“Mom!” I grab the phone back. “I’m not ready.”
She rolls to her side, pressing her hand to one cheek while kissing my other cheek. “My mom was my best friend, my world in many ways … until we adopted you. I love her, but I love you more. So don’t do anything that doesn’t speak to your soul.” She sits up and pads her bare feet to the door.
“Responding to Flynn doesn’t speak to my soul.”
She chuckles. “Yes, it does.”
I stare at my phone and the three bubbles of his impending reply. The summer after my parents met, my mom used to text my dad:
Hi. Remember me?
And he texted back:
Hi. I’m pretty sure you’re still my greatest memory.
And they’d end each conversation with a song title, something that made them think about the other one. My parents had a million obstacles that threatened their happiness, but they never gave up, and the other’s net worth never factored into their love. That’s why my gut tells me Flynn can’t love me that way. And I don’t blame him. His past is beyond anything I can imagine, and I know there’s probably so much more I don’t know.
Flynn: I hope everything is ok with your family
June: It’s not
Flynn: Sorry
June: Thx
Flynn: Want to talk about it?
I stare at his text for a few seconds.
June: No
Flynn: I’m sorry
June: U said that
Flynn: I’m sorry about the way things ended
Flynn: I’m an asshole
June: I know
The screen flashes three bubbles, then it stops. Three bubbles again. Then nothing.
I toss my phone aside and stare at the ceiling. How did life get so messed up?
Before dinner, I swim laps in the pool and shower. With wet hair, shorts and a tee, I join my family for dinner. It’s always a five to seven-course meal. Grandma has had a private chef for as long as I can remember. An entire staff to take care of the house and everyone in it.