Page 174 of Rush

Mark’s still talking—something about dress fittings and flight itineraries—but it all blends together.

News travels fast.In less than twenty-four hours, my phone is red-hot, buzzing nonstop—comments, tags, texts. People I haven’t heard from since high school suddenly remember I exist.

Some relatives in Manila I’ve never even met send a voice note I can’t understand—just my name over and over, what sounds like pots banging in the background as a group of them scream in excitement.

Riley collapses onto the couch. “Okay, I love you, but if one more person texts me to ask if it’s true, I’m gonna start saying no just to shit stir.”

I drop onto the rug, back pressed against the edge of the coffee table. My phone buzzing again. Eventually, I flip it over, screen-down, ignoring the noise.

Riley looks at me. “You good?”

“Yeah.”

She waits.

“I don’t know,” I mutter. “I should be freaking out. In a good way.”

“You’re nominated for a Grammy. And presenting an Oscar,” she says, like I somehow forgot.

“Yeah.” I rub at my jaw. “It’s just...Alex.”

Riley groans, dragging a cushion over her face. “Ugh. Voldemort. Why does he always ruin everything?”

“He doesn’t ruin—” I stop. Catch the look she’s giving me. “Okay. Maybe. A little.”

I let my head fall back against the table. “I miss him. Which is insane. Right?”

She doesn’t answer right away. The couch creaks as she shifts.

“It’s not insane. You obviously still have feelings for him—that doesn’t just magically go away.”

That’s it, the truth I haven’t wanted to admit. Despite the months with Broderick, I still can’t help the lingering tether that ties me to Alex.

Will I ever be able to move on from him?I sigh.

“Also, you haven’t seen Broderick in, what—two weeks?” Riley adds.

“Almost.”

“Yeah. So maybe your brain’s just craving a warm body and picked the worst possible candidate out of sheer spite.”

I laugh, but it snags in my throat. She’s not wrong, and I hate it. It was agony, I was craving his touch. Phone sex and my vibrator just weren’t cutting it anymore.

My phone buzzes again. On instinct I tilt it up to check. Broderick.

I snatch it up and step into the kitchen, my heart spikes, too fast, too hard.

“Hey,” I answer.

“I leave the country for five minutes and you turn into a mega superstar, Songbird.”

His voice wraps around me—static and velvety.

“Can’t take my eyes off you for a second.” He chuckles.

A grin tugs at my mouth before I can stop it. “It’s only two Grammy nominations.”

“Oh,only? I was expecting at least three. Honestly, kind of a letdown.”