Page 72 of This Side of Beautiful

“Don’t be mad.” I got on tiptoes to kiss his lips. “I think we should take each other’s pictures.”

He tilted his head while I left him to pick up my phone and show him.

I grinned as we looked at what the phone had captured. Landon’s stoicism, which seemed indifferent on the photographer’s lens, presented as pride and strength in mine. The way I held on to him was like a woman who knew who she was and what she had in him.

“This is love.”

Landon’s breath caught. “Beautiful.”

“Exactly.” I held my phone up. “Think we up to it?”

He picked me up and tossed me over his shoulder. “After we have sex.”

We laughed, and I snapped pics of us as he carried me to the kitchen. He placed me on the island and settled in between my legs. Landon took my phone out of my hand and snapped a couple of shots. “We label this one a woman about to be eaten out good and then sexed in the kitchen.”

I laughed, taking off his hat and bandana, running my hands through his wild hair, and wrapping my arms around his neck as he eased my panties down my legs. He jerked me to the edge of the island, kneeled before me, wrapped his arms around my thighs, and indulged in my clit for lunch. My head flung back, I caressed my rigid nipples through my dress as his tongue played sensual music with the most intimate part of me. Being sexual loosened Landon up.

After a steamy romp in the kitchen, we took turns capturing on camera who we were and our growing love in various states of undress. When the photographer returned, she clapped in delight at the deliciously sensual photos we’d taken of each other. “I won’t have to do that much to get these ready. And you just used your phones?”

Landon hugged me from behind, and we both nodded.

She smiled, lifted her camera, and snapped. “Perfect. Del wants to see the photos. Are you giving him permission to use any of these shots? I can probably sell some of them to other mags, but they’ll want an interview.”

I rubbed his forearm. “Not quite ready for an interview. As long as I can post one of my favs on IG and you give us proper credit, you and Del can use any of the photos the way you see fit.”

“This isn’t The Hollow Bones,” Landon reminded us. “This is me and Janae.”

The woman nodded with the biggest smile, and her bob finally moved. “That’s clear on these photos.”

May 9

The following night, I stared at the sky through the glass ceiling long after Landon had drifted off to sleep. I couldn’t see the stars with the clarity I could down south, though the sky was just as vast and awe-inspiring.

My mind hadn’t been quiet since New Orleans more than a month ago. None of the relaxation and meditation practices I’d learned in the last three years seemed to help. Or maybe my mind couldn’t relax between this new relationship, the buzz with this tour, and navigating the balance between the guys and Landon. I missed Dr. K and her reassuring and comforting advice. Like a true professional, she’d emailed me a list of coping strategies and wished me well two days after I’d ended our therapeutic relationship.

Landon shifted on his side, facing me. I wanted to smooth the lines on his forehead without waking him. Landon didn’t sleep well, either. He was restless and moved constantly, though his breathing remained slow and deep. Maybe it was because he wasn’t used to having a warm body in his bed every night. Or maybe he couldn’t rest because we had a single dropping tomorrow, and photos of us that would be plastered across the internet for all to see. Or maybe he didn’t fully relax because his unconscious self held on to the nervousness he attempted to hide with his hat and his music.

Returning my attention to the universe, I fluffed my pillow and rested my head on it. When would be a good time to tell him about my history and all of my present? What would Landon say when he found out that I’d used alcohol and drugs to help with my moods and not just to perform? Or that as much as I hated it, I may need medications to function somewhat normally? Would he still accept me once he knew that I’d been diagnosed with bipolar after my suicide attempt that my old manager and ex had kept from the press?

I hadn’t just disappeared from the music world. I’d wanted to disappear, period. I might not battle cravings for drugs anymore, but I fought against my darkness and irritability whenever people around me moved slowly while I moved fast. I worried that the beautiful man lying next to me, who contemplated everything he did, wouldn’t understand my need to operate on instinct and impulse.

“When’s the last time you really slept?” His eyes were closed, though his finger traced my neck and shoulder.

“Don’t worry about me.”

“No choice but to worry about you.” A small smile graced his lips. “When, Janae?”

“Remember? I can go days without sleep.”

His eyes slowly opened. “There are times I’ve seen you sleep. Is it just the ebbs and flows of your condition?”

Now would be the perfect time to tell him everything. Wouldeverythinginclude what happened when I was a teenager?

“Yep,” I answered instead. I was becoming the poster child for bipolar but was still afraid to be completely honest with the man in my bed every night.

“You need to sleep,” Landon insisted. “I noticed you’re more jittery than you normally are these past few days.”

Shit. “I’m good.”

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