Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 87142 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87142 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
“We’ll see.”
19
ZOE
“So, you’re together? Not together?” Naomi asked.
“Yes? No? I’m honestly not sure.” I hit the speakerphone button and put the phone on my counter as I dug around in my refrigerator to find something for dinner. “I think we’re in limbo.”
“Limbo?”
“Yeah, limbo. You know, the place between heaven and hell—”
“I know what limbo is. I just don’t understand how you’re in it.”
“He asked me to wait three months.” I pulled out the takeout I’d ordered two nights ago and gave it a whiff. Smelled good to me. Plus, it was already eight thirty and I was starving. Getting Seven to One off the ground had me working around the clock, but we’d had some summer festival proposals sent our way today, so it was looking up.
“And you said you’d think about it.”
“What else was I supposed to say?” I popped the leftovers into the microwave.
“Oh, I don’t know. Anything that would have given one of People’s Sexiest Men Alive a clear answer on whether or not he’s allowed to go sleep with other people?” Her voice rose.
“He won’t.” I watched the plate spin round and round inside the microwave, debating what I’d thought was a cute little comment three days ago. “And if he does, then I guess we have our answer, don’t we?” Just the thought of it made my stomach curdle, but I was done feeling responsible for Nixon’s choices.
“Are you sleeping with other people?”
“No!” I turned and yelled at my cell phone, like Naomi was actually in the room with me.
“So, you’re not officially together, but you’re not sleeping with other people.”
“Exactly. At least that’s what I think is going on.” The heartbreak I’d come back to Seattle sporting eight weeks ago wasn’t as sharp since I’d seen Nixon in Chicago. It wasn’t completely healed, either. I missed him more than I wanted to admit.
Way more.
The every heartbeat kind of more.
But that was to be expected, right? It wasn’t natural to spend every waking moment with someone for six months and then be okay when they cut you off cold turkey. In that way, I guess I was addicted to him too. And as much as I wanted to believe it, I wasn’t sure he’d stick to the three-month plan. There was every chance he’d leave for the tour and not look back.
Ironic, but I was supposed to be happy. I finally felt like I was making something of myself when it came to my career, but I’d lost something I hadn’t realized I’d even wanted, something that was scarily close to a need.
“He’ll come back,” she said, way more confident about it than I was.
“How do you know?” Nixon was anything but predictable.
“I’ve seen the way he looks at you. He’ll come back. Did you know he deleted Instagram?”
“So Monica was telling me.” The microwave beeped, and I took out my leftover pasta, stirring it.
“That’s New Zoe?”
“Nixon calls her Wannabe Shannon. She’s Ben’s new intern, whose favorite hobbies include texting me every five minutes to ask questions about Nixon and frequenting TMZ to ‘make sure the band doesn’t have negative exposure.’” I snorted.
“She’s young. Give her a break.”
“Her father is Donald Berkshire. Trust me, she doesn’t need one.” I opened the refrigerator again and stared at my drink options, then bypassed the lone bottle of orange soda on the door for some lemonade. God, I missed him. “Tell me how Levi’s doing.”
Naomi filled me in on the happenings around Legacy as I ate and threw in a load of laundry.
Then the doorbell rang.
“Hold on a second, someone’s here.” I walked the ten feet to my front door and looked through the peephole. “It’s Monica.”
“Be nice.”
“I’ll call you right back.” I hung up with Naomi and opened the door. “Monica, it’s almost nine o’clock. What’s up?”
“Sorry.” She blew her hair out of her eyes and sighed. “I spent all day getting his royal assholeness packed to leave for Jonas’s in two days, where, spoiler alert, I don’t get to go.” I had to give it to the girl—she looked exhausted.
“Jonas isn’t a big fan of interns creeping around his kid,” I said as gently as possible. It was good Nixon was headed to Jonas’s, not only for the support but for the distance. Now I wouldn’t be tempted to drive over and climb into bed with him at two a.m.
She nodded. “I know. I just thought I’d be doing higher-level stuff, not packing Nixon’s guitar straps. Did you know that he has one that says Zoe’s on it?” She lifted her eyebrows.
“Yeah, I did.” I grinned. “It was supposed to be a joke. Long story.”
“Well, he made me pack it.” Her shoulders fell. “Is this what it’s really like? Babysitting the creatives?”
“No. Nixon’s on special handling orders for a few months, that’s all. Then he’ll go on tour, and Ethan will be responsible for his royal assholeness.” I opened my door wider. “Do you want to come in? You look like you need to sit down.”