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Hell, I look like Coen did when I slammed the brakes and sent him to Wyoming. I go still, pill on my tongue. It’s gritty and bitter as it dissolves.
Who fixes the fixer?
My hands are steady as I fill a glass and swallow down the taste. Then, I turn out the lights and go to bed, even though it’s nine in the morning. Distantly, I can hear the notifications buzzing on my phone.
One after the other, lulling me into oblivion.
CHAPTER NINE
SERENA
Mom and Hugh work all the time, which I knew after spending Christmas here. But that was during the holidays when they had time off. I didn’t realize they were gone so much during the summer. That leaves me knocking around their enormous house all day with nothing to do.
Nothing to do sounds great until…well, there’s nothing to fucking do.
My suitcase arrives, but I’m bored of my clothes from home. Mom gives me a credit card, which is very nice of her, and I decide I’m going to take advantage of it. So I book The Works—a haircut and blowout, a spray tan, lashes, brows, nails, and a pedicure. That will take me all day. I have an Uber bring me, which Mom casually orders, and I’m shocked when it’s a luxury car. Even though I’ve come here plenty, I forget how loaded Mom and Hugh are. It’s nothing like how I grew up.
I feel like a new woman by the end of the day.
The next morning is Saturday, and Mom asks whether I want to go to the mall. I foolishly say yes and then spend the next seven solid hours shopping. Dazed, bags over both arms, I stumble into the house and decide I’m more of an online, from the comfort of my bed, kind of shopper. Mom says it’s the most fun she’s had in ages and we’ll have to do it again next weekend.
The next day, she jets off for a conference. Hugh has a big meeting in the city. He’s going to stay there until Mom’s conference is done. She’ll meet him for an overnight trip. I have the run of the house, an unlimited credit card, but it’s ruined by my brain that won’t stop talking about Jamie. I wonder how his trip to Maxwell Ranch went. How long did he stay? Was he relieved when I didn’t show up? Disappointed?
I spend a lot of time by the pool, covered in sunscreen and tanning oil, with a book so I don’t scroll my phone.
It turns out, time off is a blessing and a curse. Luckily, Mom has a living room with a piano in it. When I’m not lying in the sun in a bikini, I teach myself a few of the big pop hits from this summer. I’ve always been excellent at playing songs by ear, and I have them down by the end of the day. I even get so bored that I film them and save them on my phone.
No way am I posting those.
Eventually, I get so desperate that I google him just to look at his photos. That doesn’t help anything because there he is—arrogant, handsome, hands in his pockets on the red carpet.
It was a mistake. I forget the Jamie who came out to the ranch isn’t the same Jamie who runs one of the biggest agencies in country music. Agent Jamie is perfectly sexy, in tailored clothes, surrounded by beautiful people. That deadness still hits in his eyes, like nothing has ever impressed him in his life. The only time that changed was when I saw him up close, in my bed, eyes glittering and body moving against mine. He was so warm and passionate for those few days.
I set my phone down and close my eyes.
Buzz.
My eyes snap open, and I reach for my phone. Then, I sit bolt upright with my heart hammering out of my chest.
Oh my God.
He texted me.
CHAPTER TEN
JAMIE
I dream about her. I haven’t dreamed in years.
There’s something about her being just one state over that bothers me worse than ever before. After I return to Maine, I spend the next few days working through my to-do list. I go for a run along the cliffs to break up every three hours of work. I write all the things I have to do on Post-its at the end of every day and stick them on the mirror in the studio. Then I take them all down and rearrange them and put them back up. I circle the piano a few times, but don’t sit down. When things get really bad, I go into town and walk around the grocery store like an animal with Zoochosis.
For the first time, I use the kitchen. I burn eggs, drop a glass dish, and break a mug.
By bedtime on the third day, I’m losing my mind. My room is a big, empty space with a bed made up in cold, dark sheets. The entire house was put together by a designer from Spain, who, at my request, made a bachelor pad, albeit a classy one. I never anticipated settling down. This is the kind of place people go when they want to be alone. My bedroom is where I bring home women for one night and one night only.
I haven’t slept with anyone since Serena.
The bathroom is the same, dark and sexy and sleek. I’m sweaty from a run, so I turn on the water in the huge glass shower that takes up a fourth of the room. It was made for fucking, but I’ve never fucked anything but my hand in there. At least, so far.
