Page 118 of Perfect Satisfaction

I can’t do this anymore.

I need to find a way out before I lose any more of myself.

JB’s just going to have to work harder to figure out how to save his own ass—not to mention the half a million people working for MSW.

I can’t bear the weight of this albatross on top of the agony of the final decimation of my marriage. If I do, then I’ll be so diseased with grief I won’t survive.

CHAPTERSIXTY-ONE

DJ Kensington says goodbye to New York as she makes her way to LA and the final leg of her tour.

Knock ’em dead with that incredible voice of yours. I’m certain I speak for the entire universe when I say we’re all eagerly anticipating your next album.

@djkensington @wildcardmusic

—StellaNova

My eyes drift shut as I relaxmy sore muscles in the tub after the workout from hell. I’ve got a Bar Faves mix I found on Spotify blaring through my AirPods and I can’t help the reluctant smile that tugs at my lips over the song that’s playing. I chuckle, recalling the ridiculous number of times we sang “Sweet Caroline” as if my GPA relied upon it.

Of course, I hum Neil Diamond’s jubilant tune as I rub the loofah over my shoulder.

My ass clenches as I fast forward past Queen’s “Fat Bottom Girls” because, really, that’s adding insult to injury—sadistic bitch trainer—when the next song hurls me to the first night I spent with Arek.

Even though the woman singing over the original track is younger than I am by a decade.

“How will I know if he found what he’s looking for?”

That’s when a shadow moves in front of the ray of sun. Arek crouches down and removes one of my buds, placing it in his own ear.

A spasm of pain crosses his face when he realizes the song playing. He rasps, “You have this on a playlist?”

Fervently, I shake my hair. Wet strands fly everywhere. “It just...”

He understands but that doesn’t stop him from reaching over and pressing the repeat button. Austyn Kensington’s devastating voice starts singing a hit made famous decades earlier. His eyes drag over my face. “That night was magical.”

Swallowing around the watermelon in my throat, I agree. “I know.”

“Do you know what I would do to be with you?”

“I was able to believe that once.”

The song begins again. I’m about to plead for mercy when Arek pulls out the earbud. Pressing a kiss to my ear he corrects me, “You chose to believe it, in us. What would happen if you tried again?” That’s when he replaces the music in my ear and leaves me to remember when the world buzzed by us and we stood in the middle of it.

Seeing only each other.

CHAPTERSIXTY-TWO

If a windfall landed in your lap tomorrow, what would you do with it?

After paying taxes, of course.

And no, you can’t resuscitate the dead.

—StellaNova

August

Arek is sitting around in sweatsthat hang low on his hips when I come out of my suite. He lets out a low wolf whistle. “Where are you off to this morning?”