Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 93936 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93936 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
“Yeah, well, Elle’s already talking to attorneys about getting Nola’s name off my house.”
“Are you okay with that?”
“Yeah, I am,” I say without hesitation. “I’m thinking of selling it anyway. It never really felt like mine, you know?”
Justine nods, understanding in her eyes. “Fresh start?”
“Something like that,” I agree. “What about you? How was Christmas with Keane and Chandler?”
“Nice. Low-key. Chandler gave me matching friendship bracelets.” Justine holds up her wrist to show a braided band of colorful threads. “She said she’s trying to get your fans to bring them to the shows so she can swap.”
“That’s sweet,” I say.
We fall into a comfortable silence, just watching each other. I realize how much I’ve missed her, even though it’s only been a few days.
“I wish you were here,” I find myself saying.
Something shifts in Justine’s expression. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” I say, more certain now. “I’ve been holding babies all day, and all I could think about was how much I wanted to share it with you, which I suppose sounds odd. Maybe even scary. I don’t know. Ever since that kiss in the dressing room, and then on the bus,” I pause and shake my head. “I really like you, Justine, and I’m afraid people are going to judge me, especially because the world knows I was engaged to Nola, and they don’t know that I’m not anymore. But then I think about how you’ve been by my side, a constant presence from the second we pulled out of that lot to start the tour, and how slowly this thing between us is building. I . . .” I inhale deeply to gather the right words.
“I’m tired of waiting for the ‘right time’ to live my life,” I say. “I spent years with Nola, always waiting for the next step that never came. And now, holding my nephews and niece, seeing my sisters with their families . . . I don’t want to wait anymore.”
“Quinn—”
“I know, I know. We said we’d take it slow. Figure things out when the tour’s over.” I take a deep breath. “But being here made me realize something.”
“What’s that?” Justine asks, her voice soft.
“I’m falling in love with you, and I don’t want to stop,” I say simply. “And not because I’m on the rebound or because we work together. It’s because you listened when I needed someone to hear me. You didn’t try to fix me or tell me how to feel. You just . . . were there. I liked having you in my space when everything else felt like it was closing in around me and suffocating me. You were the breath that pulled me out.”
Justine is quiet for a moment, and I feel my heart thudding in my chest.
“Quinn James,” she finally says, a slow smile spreading across her face. “Are you making relationship declarations on Christmas night, over video chat, while I’m in my pajamas with no makeup on?”
I laugh, relief flooding through me. “You’re beautiful without the makeup,” I tell her. “You’re gorgeous when you’ve been up all night writing songs or after a show and your hair is all wild. I think you’re one of the most stunning women I’ve ever had the chance to be in the presence of . . .”
“Quinn—”
“And yes, I guess I am making relationship declarations on Christmas. Is that okay?”
“It’s perfect,” Justine says. “Because I know I’m falling for you. To be honest, I’ve fallen.”
I feel something settle in my chest, a certainty I haven’t felt in a long time. “When I get back to the tour, we’re going to talk about this properly. Make some real plans.”
“Real plans, I like the sound of that.”, Justine repeats, her eyes sparkling. “What
kind of real plans are we talking about?”
“Well, for starters, I want you to meet my family. The real them, not the tour version.”
“Even Juniper?” Justine teases.
“Especially Juniper,” I say with mock seriousness. “I’ve already told her about you. I think she approves.”
“Oh, does she now?”
“Yep. She’s very discerning for someone who’s only a month old.”
Justine’s smile softens. “I’d like that. Meeting your family. All five babies included.”
“And I want to write with you. Not just tour songs, but real stuff. The kind that means something.”
“I’d like that too,” Justine says. “And maybe . . .” she hesitates.
I feel my heart skip with anticipation.
From upstairs, I hear my name being called. “Quinn! Mom’s making hot chocolate!”
“You should go,” Justine says, hearing the voice. “Enjoy your family time.”
“I’ll call you tomorrow?” I ask, not quite ready to hang up.
“You better,” Justine says. “Sweet dreams, Quinn.”
“Sweet dreams, Justine.”
As I end the call, I sit for a moment, phone in hand, feeling a lightness I haven’t experienced in years. It’s not just freedom from Nola, from walking on eggshells or feeling like I’m not enough. It’s the certainty that with Justine, I’ve found someone who sees me—all of me—and chooses to stay anyway.