But sharing him with her forty thousand followers and the millions of people who might potentially see her video? That did not feel like the right step at this point.
She wasn’t even ready to tell Randi about him.
For now, Graham belonged to Paige and Paige alone.
Chapter Two
Blaise Monroe had attacked the weeds in the flowerbed on the side of her house with greater than usual intensity. Maybe even borderline aggression. But she had good reason.
For one thing, she’d had a less than pleasant phone conversation with her son, Evan, this morning. She’d gotten tired of his probing questions because she knew he was sure she was miserable in her new tiny home and would eventually come to him, hoping to move in with him and his wife.
That was not going to happen.
For another, it was later in the day than she liked to do this kind of work, but she’d gone down a rabbit hole of social media after that phone call in an attempt to distract herself from wanting to injure her only child.
She sat back on her heels and wiped her brow with her forearm to avoid getting dirt on her face. She hadn’t meant to go down such a rabbit hole. All she’d done was hopped on TikTok to see if Paige had posted a new video, figuring that would be enough to put herself in a better mood.
Paige had posted a fantastic thought for the day, which had indeed put a smile on Blaise’s face. She’d made sure to like thevideo, too. She’d created her own TikTok account just to support her friend, but she’d found TikTok to be a treasure trove of interesting, albeit often useless, information. Sometimes it was hard to stop watching.
And sometimes she stumbled upon topics that she had no idea even interested people.
Today was one of those days. She’d found an entire subset of TikTok dedicated to the supermodels of the ’80s and ’90s. She’d watched herself and some of her friends (and frenemies) strut down catwalks in videos she hadn’t even known were being recorded.
It was odd watching herself like that. She looked so confident. And, to some extent, she had been. But she’d also been worried about not falling down in the impossibly high heels she’d been given, or about pleasing the designer so they’d book her again, or about showing the clothes off the way she’d been instructed.
Sometimes, as she’d been walking, she’d worried about how much time she’d have to make it to the next show, especially during Fashion Week.
So many memories had come flooding back. The nostalgia had been strong, but it had left her feeling oddly melancholy. That hadn’t been the easiest time of her life. Yes, it had been fun. The parties, the celebrity, the money, the clothing.
But she’d paid a high price.
She’d lived on coffee and cigarettes. Thankfully, she’d given up the cigarettes quickly after seeing an older model’s teeth. She’d spent years feeling guilty about nearly every morsel of food that had gone into her mouth. The pressure had been immense, not just to stay skinny, but to adapt to whatever the latest fashion whim was.
And then there had been the men.
She’d spent time with so many she hadn’t liked, all in the name of furthering her career. Fended off more than a few close encounters that would have undoubtedly ended up with her in compromising situations. She’d lost track of the number of men who’d promised they could make her a Hollywood star if only she’d beniceto them.
Nice.
She snorted. Their definition of nice and hers were two very different things.
With thoughts of her past occupying her mind, she started to get back to work pulling weeds but heard the gate in her backyard fence opening. She glanced over and saw Brick, her new friend and the neighbor behind and to the right of her, coming through.
The sun caught him from behind, making his steely gray hair gleam silver. His expression was as gruff as ever, but she understood that his face did not necessarily reflect his attitude.
He had a glass of lemonade in one hand as he approached, his gaze on the flowerbed and the bucket of weeds she’d pulled. “Hot work.”
She nodded. “I got started later than I meant to. How are you?”
“Fine.” He held out the glass. “Here.”
“For me?”
He gave her a look that she knew well now. It was as good as a, “Yes, who else?”
She smiled. “Thanks.” She took it and drank half of it in one go. It was ice cold and not too sweet, the lemon so fresh it made her cheeks ache with the sharpness. It was perfect. She swallowed and let out an appreciative sigh. “I needed that.”
He gave a quick nod that often passed for happiness from him. “Want help?”
