Page 9 of Run to Me

Miggy

Pic please.

Miguel Espinoza, who I dubbed Miggy, is Graham’s ex-boyfriend and one of my dearest friends. Despite ending their relationship a year ago, he asks me to send daily photos of Graham in secret.

Me

He’s in Cali.

Miggy

Where? Why? For how long?

Me

I’m not doing this. CALL HIM.

“Who are you texting?” Tatum asks. She has an overwhelming fear of missing out.

“Miguel.”

“Tell him I said hi and that I miss him.”

I don’t need to look at the screen to know she’s smiling. She does so freely and easily. The girl has a bigger heart than her slender frame should be capable of hauling around.

Me

Tate says hi and to CALL HIM.

Miggy

Witches.

“Miguel says hi,” I mutter, tossing my phone on the rug before glancing at the laptop.

Sure enough, she’s grinning from ear to ear, and her joy reaches out and tugs at my own lips. “Gosh, I hope they get back together soon. Our polyam fam isn’t complete without Miguel.”

I bite my lip to suppress the laughter brewing in my chest. Tatum often misuses words and phrases, which I find hilarious considering she’s a songwriter. Sometimes I correct her. Other times, like now, I sit back and enjoy her naivety.

“Did you hear back from Marzan?” she asks, changing the subject.

Now this brings a genuine smile to my face. Marion Kazan a.k.a. Marzan directs artistic and controversial music videos. He’s familiar with my work since he directed a few of Tatum’s videos in the past. When his team contacted me with an offer to join some upcoming projects as a makeup artist, I cried in Tatum’s face while she screamed for joy in mine.

I let the production team know I’m tied up with Graham’s movie until March, hoping my delayed availability wouldn’t ruin the opportunity for me. For the next forty-eight hours, I couldn’t eat or sleep while waiting for a response.

Shifting onto my side, I prop myself on an elbow. “Yes, I did. Marzan said I have the ‘it’ thing he’s looking for. He’s willing to go with his backup choice for the late January project and let me jump on board in March.”

“Oh my gosh, Maisy, that’s awesome!” She squeals and kicks her feet. “I’m so freaking happy for you!”

Tatum’s excitement coasts through my veins as she cries happy tears for me. It’s impossible not to match her level of enthusiasm, especially knowing she’s genuine in her support.

“Thanks. I’m so ready, Tate.” I swipe my cheek, surprised by my own tears of joy. “This is my chance to break out on my own. I’ll miss working with you, of course, but I need this.”

Her expression carousels through a plethora of emotions until she settles on pride. “The world has no idea what’s coming. A boss babe with magical brushes and a palette of colorful insults, like a rude fairy godmother.”

“Well, we’ll see about the magical brushes. You never know what crazy visions will flow from Marzan’s brain. I may not even need my makeup kit. Remember when he wanted you to dress as a cock and asked me to paint your face with a wet effect?”

“It was a rooster!” she exclaims, slapping a hand on the mattress.