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I took this shoot last minute, not wanting to turn down a quick payday before leaving, but now I’m regretting that choice. I could have been in my bed right now, alone to wallow in self-pity instead of a hot new gossip topic.
“He’s atotalass sucker, but need always trumps want,” Ivy sighs.
She’s right, and I hate it. “What do I do?”
“What about Maddox? The season should be done by now, right?”
I collapse on one of the three faux-leather couches and bury my face in my hand. “No. He’s in the playoffs still.”
My oldest brother is in the Stanley Cup final for the second consecutive season, and the team looks like they’ll win the entire thing again. I’m both proud of him and selfishly frustrated.
Her next exhale is heavy, apologetic. “Your sister-in-law?”
“Doubtful. My nephew is still too small.”
“Crap, that’s right. Is there anyone else? Could you convince Noah?”
“Convincing the devil spawn to do anything I want him to has never been a wise way to spend my time, Ivy. There’s no point in trying.”
“What about that other guy you’ve told me about? The one that’s always around your family? Cole?”
“Cooper?”
“Yeah!”
A tiny flicker of hope comes to life at the suggestion. Cooper White has been Maddox’s best friend since they were in diapers. There are very few memories I have that don’t include him hanging around somewhere. But he’s ten years older than me. I’m sure the last thing he wants is to spend his summer babysitting me. Or at least that’s what he would see it as.
Babysitting his best friend’s little sister as she trollops through Europe.
Yuck.
That flicker of hope is snuffed out in an instant.
“Cooper isn’t an option,” I mutter.
“You’re killing me here,” Ivy whispers.
Guilt nips at me. “I’m sorry. I’ll figure something out; I can take care of it.”
“I could always get another flight in to meet you after I’m moved in,” she suggests.
“That’s sweet, but there’s no way you’re paying for an entirely new ticket. We knew it was a risk when we purchased non-refundable tickets in the first place.”
Her exhale is stressed. “Please tell me that you don’t hate me.”
I drop my hand to my lap and take a deep breath. “I don’t hate you. I hate your new landlord, but not you. I promise.”
The door to the dressing room flies open as a line of women strides inside. Several sets of eyes fall on me before they’re looking away quickly, as if the sight of me with smudged eyes and black tears streaming down my face is too gruesome a sight to stare at for long.
My middle finger tingles with the need to say hello, but I don’t give in.
“I have to go. I’ll see you at home tonight.”
“Okay, yeah. Of course. We’ll talk more tonight,” she rushes out.
“Yeah. Sounds good.”
I hang up with a heavy heart and make quick work of getting dressed so I can leave. The feeling of being watched again only makes me move quicker. It’s not completely their fault for gawking. I look like a nutcase right now.
