Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 128417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 514(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 514(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
I pick up the microphone.
Maybe he was just gonna surprise me with the news—and Jonas let the cat out of the bag? But, no. I saw Josh’s face when Jonas spilled the beans. He didn’t look like a guy whose happy surprise got unwittingly spilled by his brother. He looked like a guy who just got busted on something—a guy whose cover just got blown.
The teleprompter begins scrolling the words to the song, and, even though I have no desire to sing it right now, my mouth begins half-heartedly mumble-singing the first lines. But the words are slaying me. They’re too close to home. They’re about Whitney having no choice but to leave her lover. She loves him, but she’s got to go. It’s just the way it is.
Everyone’s cheering uproariously. As far as they’re concerned, I’m giving the performance of a lifetime—an emotion-packed Whitney-tribute.
I yank the scarf off my head. Fucking scarf. Why the fuck am I doing this? I don’t want to role-play a freakin’ fantasy right now. I wanna talk to Josh in real-life. I wanna know why he didn’t tell me.
The teleprompter reaches the words of the chorus—the words I’ve been singing at the top of my lungs in the shower since I was ten years old.
I look at Josh. He’s standing stock-still, no longer playing his part. He’s looking at me with the same expression he had when I opened my door to him in Las Vegas after reading his application.
My eyes drift to the teleprompter again, though I certainly don’t need it to know the lyrics.
I can’t sing these words to Josh. Not like this. These are sacred words—magic words. The words I’d planned to say to Josh later tonight when we were all alone in my bed.
The words I’d planned to say when I thought Josh loved me, too, but just didn’t know how to say it. And now, suddenly, I realize he doesn’t feel the way I do.
Without conscious thought, I toss the scarf into the air, letting it flutter to the ground, bolt out of my chair, and sprint out the front doors of the bar, ugly tears streaming down my face.
39
JOSH
“Kat!” I yell. She doesn’t turn around. The night air is chilly, but my skin is blazing hot. This is a fucking catastrophe. “Kat!” I yell again, my voice strained.
She whips around to face me, heat wafting off her skin. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she blurts, tears streaming down her cheeks.
My heart is physically pained at the sight of her. I grab her shoulders, desperate to make her understand. “You’re blowing this way out of proportion. Just listen to me, okay?”
“You put your house on the market three weeks ago—you’ve obviously known for a while.”
I exhale. “I only decided for sure about a month ago.”
She throws up her hands.
“But I’m not moving for two or three months,” I say. “I can’t move until I’ve got everything squared away with Faraday & Sons.”
Her expression is a wicked combination of devastation and fury.
“I didn’t wanna say anything until it was closer,” I say soothingly. “That’s all. I was gonna tell you. Just later.”
She clenches her jaw. “Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why wait ’til later to tell me?”
“Because I didn’t want you to get your hopes up if...” I stop. I can already tell this isn’t gonna go over well. Oh shit. I’m fucked.
“If what?”
I pause.
“If what?”
“If things didn’t work out. Between. Us.”
There’s an excruciating silence.
“Let me see if I understand this,” she says. “Standing here right now you’re not one hundred percent sure you wanna be with me two months from now?”
I throw up my hands. “Well, shit. When you say it like that, it sounds horrible. But, yeah, I just wanted to wait until I was sure I wasn’t gonna get your hopes up and then somehow, you know, disappoint you.”
She blinks and huge, fat tears streak out her eyes and down her beautiful cheeks.
“Kat, please,” I say, my voice quavering. My eyes are burning. I close them and compose myself for a beat. “It’s no reflection on how I feel about you. I think you’re amazing. And gorgeous. Funny. Smart. Sweet. I think about you night and day—that’s why I came to Seattle early. I’ve never had so much fun in my life as I have with you.”
Oh shit. Something I just said lit her fuse—and not in a good way.
“Fun?” she spits out, utterly enraged.
I roll my eyes. “Did you hear anything else I said? Fun was the very last thing I said—after saying a bunch of other really awesome things. And, by the way, saying you’re fun is a huge compliment.”
“Oh, thanks for the compliment. Makes me feel great. You can always count on Kat for a little fun.” She wipes her eyes, but it’s pointless—tears are streaming out.
I look up to the night sky and roll my entire head in frustration. This is so fucking horrific. I can’t believe she’s overreacting like this. She’s so fucking temperamental, I swear to God. “This is spiraling way out of control,” I say. “How much have you had to drink? Are you drunk?”