Page 33 of Edge of Heaven

“But it sounds like you’re involved in his life,” I say. “I think that’s what he’s going to remember. He doesn’t know anything about who’s paying for his health insurance. He just knows Mom is playing Pokémon Go with him and whatever else you do. Does he play any sports? Baseball or whatever?”

There’s another weird look on her face now as she shakes her head.

“No, he’s…been dealing with some medical stuff.”

“I hope he’s okay?”

“I hope so too.” She gasps as the plane hits some turbulence and drops what feels like twenty feet. Her hand shoots out and grasps mine again, squeezing tightly.

“Easy,” I say gently, covering her hand with my other one. “It’s okay. Just a little turbulence.”

“I hate flying,” she admits, not releasing the death grip on my fingers.

“Ladies and gentlemen.” The captain’s voice fills the cabin. “We’re going through a little bit of rough air right now, so I’ve turned on the fasten seat belts sign and I’m going to delay cabin service until we get through. I think it should only be about ten minutes or so…”

Ten seconds or ten minutes—I’ll take any amount of time if it gives me a legitimate excuse to hold her hand.

I’m a dumbass but I don’t care.

This is yet another stolen moment in time for us and I’m here for it.

Chapter10

Taryn

Photo shootsfor catalogues can be a slog.

Wardrobe changes, hair and makeup touchups, and then a thousand shots in each outfit.

Today we started with lingerie.

I don’t mind wearing skimpy outfits, but it’s freezing in here and I’m not getting much coverage from the leather bra and thong panty set or the miniscule black corseted teddy. There were also thigh-high fishnet stockings with skull clips on the garters, a hot-pink bikini that barely covered my nipples, and heels so high I almost toppled over.

If I wasn’t cold, it wouldn’t be a big deal because the pay is good and everyone is nice. Professional, communicative, and respectful of physical boundaries. No one else is in the room while we’re shooting other than the photographer—who happens to be a woman—and the stylist. So I’m not uncomfortable or worried about my safety.

I’m just fucking freezing.

“You’re covered in goose bumps,” the photographer, Linda, says after about three hours. “So much so I can see it on the shots. Let’s take a break and see if we can raise the temperature in here.”

“That would be great,” I say gratefully, pulling on the robe the stylist hands me.

“We’re almost done with this part,” Linda says. “After lunch, we’re going into jeans, leather jackets, and a few dresses. They’re still skimpy but not like this stuff.”

“No worries. It’s just so cold in here.”

“Agreed.” Linda types something on her phone. “I just reached out to Hettie.”

Hettie owns the clothing line and has been in and out all morning, mostly staying out of our way but keeping an eye on things.

“Fuck, why didn’t you say anything?” Hettie comes in with a horrified look on her face. “I’m so sorry, Taryn! I’m turning up the thermostat now. Usually it’s hot as balls when we’re shooting because of the lights and stuff. That’s probably why we turned down the temp, but I’ll turn it up now.”

“Thank you.”

“You hungry or anything?”

I shake my head. “I don’t want to eat until we’re done for the day.”

“We have two more outfits with you alone, and then we’re going to pair you with Mick, if that’s okay? You guys are friends, right?”

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