Page 65 of Life’s Too Short

Adrian wasn’t some anecdote to me. He was real. What I was feeling for him was real. It felt like I was cheapening it to invite millions of strangers to join in on it for their entertainment. But the hair-dying video tanked. My viewers were pissed. People were so thirsty to hear about Jesus’s Abs I was afraid I was going to lose subscribers if I didn’t fold, and I couldn’t afford to not make money. So the next two videos were just me recapping my days with Adrian, acting all starry-eyed and in puppy love—which to be honest wasn’t even acting. Those had some of the highest views since me and Drake. So as little as I liked sharing the private side of my life, it was a necessary evil.

I had something pretty earth-shattering planned for Monday’s post and it couldn’t come a moment too soon. I needed the money. I had enough for my day-to-day living—and Dad’s and Brent’s. And for years I’d been setting aside enough to cover my medical care in the event I got sick. But I needed to think further into the future than that.

I wanted to be able to provide my family with a modest income to live on for the rest of their lives. I’d been to my accountant yesterday to set up a trust for Grace, Brent, Dad, and Annabel—with stipulations that she pass a monthly drug test to qualify for the funds, and she check in to rehab if she didn’t. It wasn’t foolproof, but at least she’d have some accountability.

I had a stipend arranged to keep Sonja on staff after I passed, and I designated a large lump sum to my charity. I made sure I was registered as an organ donor. My DNA defects didn’t rule my organs out for transplant. They could take the whole lot of it—and I hoped they did.

I still needed to make my funeral arrangements, but I wasn’t quite ready for that one yet. I’d pay that off too though. I wouldn’t leave any of the details for anyone else to have to deal with when I went.

I’d been executing this depressing end-of-life checklist every day for the last two weeks while Adrian was at work. And then at night, I’d let it all go. I’d have dinner with him, and he’d make me forget everything. He made my shitty world blur around me until there was nothing but him and those gorgeous green eyes and I didn’t even want to go home at night. I just wanted to stay with him and keep feeling what he made me feel. I wanted to be still.

He pushed off the dresser and put Harry Puppins back in his bed. “You want me to give Grace a bottle while you get dressed?” he asked, folding up the ladder and leaning it against the wall.

I shook my head. “You have to get back. You’ll miss—”

And then I saw it.

I hadn’t expected Adrian to come over. I hadn’t picked up my place yet—which meant the pair of dirty grandma underwear I’d dropped when I’d changed out of my clothes was still lying sunny-side up between us on the carpet.

I sucked in a horrified gulp of air and looked at Adrian just in time to see that his gaze had followed mine down to the floor.

A hot, red blush seared up my neck. I stared at him in wide-eyed mortification for a split second, and then I dove to snatch my underwear. But when I bent over, I stepped on the wizard sleeve of my robe and a boob popped out. I shrieked and grabbed the rogue breast, but it was too late. He’d seen it. He’d seen all of it.

I stood like a statue clutching my robe closed, a hand over my breast like it might escape again of its own free will. “No,” I breathed. “No no no. This isn’t happening.”

“It’s okay,” he said quickly. “It’s not a big deal.” The corners of his lips twitched.

I blinked at him. “My life’s a damn rom-com…” I whispered. “You’re here in a tuxedo and my boobs are loose, just flying around.”

He was grinning now and looking very amused.

I shook my head at him. “This isn’t funny! We just went to second base!”

That did it. He burst out laughing.

I did my best to look indignant, but his laughing was sort of making me laugh. I crossed my arms over my chest. “You better forget everything you just saw.”

He shook his head. “Oh, I don’t think that’s going to be possible.”