Page 130 of The Oscar Escape
She’d been staying at Bab’s house—her home base in Denver. But Dom had urged her to leave the cozy two-story home nestled in a quiet Denver neighborhood to spend the night with the band and crew at the hotel. On autopilot, drifting through the last few days in zombie rock star mode, she hadn’t put up a fight and complied. Still, she’d insisted on bringing her violin. The times she’d felt any relief over the last handful of days were when she played the Paganini piece.
Had she been herself since she’d left Havenmatch Island?
Oh, hell no.
Stormy blue eyes welling with pain and regret haunted her.
Oscar’s betrayal had rocked her to her core. Of course, she was mad—no, livid. But that didn’t mean she’d stopped loving him. Her stupid heart hadn’t caught up with her head. She glanced at her left hand as she clutched the steering wheel. It looked naked without her wedding ring.
No, it wasn’t a wedding ring.
It was a lie—a false escape contrived by a man she’d thought had her back. Instead, he’d stabbed her there. But it must have come from a place of love, right? His desire to protect her had to have overridden his good sense. Or did he only want her on his terms?
Was there a way for them to be together? That was the million-dollar question.
She’d believed he was her match. Their time on the island had proved that.
That’s what she’d thought.
Her throat thickened with emotion. The truth is, she didn’t know if she and Oscar would find their way back to each other. And that’s how she’d ended up tearing through the streets of Denver in a Cupid Bakery delivery truck like she was auditioning to be an action-movie stunt driver.
But she had to escape the confines of the hotel.
When the costume designer started going on about her horrid lobster tank top and then mentioned needing to speak with the makeup artist about adding more body glitter and hair extensions to her look, she’d snapped. Once alone, she’d clutched her violin and notebook to her chest and bolted down the fire escape stairs to the ground floor. After a few twists and turns through a staff-only passageway, she’d ended up in the alleyway smack-dab in front of the Cupid Bakery delivery truck. Thanks to an open window, she scoped it out. Besides a lone box of bonbons, the truck was empty, which had seemed like another sign. When she spied the keys on the dashboard, it was as if the universe itself was urging her toborrowthe truck. All right, steal it.
She’d been driving around the city aimlessly for hours, trying to wrap her head around what had happened with Oscar and what was supposed to happen tonight at the Red Rocks Amphitheater at seven sharp. It wasn’t until the sun was low in the sky, casting long shadows on the road, that she figured out where she had to go. She’d pulled up to a stoplight and heard a Heartthrob Warfare song playing in the car next to her.
More divine intervention.
She might not know who she was supposed to be, but at that moment, she sure as hell understood where she was supposed to go.
Now a woman with a plan, she rocketed through another yellow light. Okay, it wasn’t quite yellow. Yes, yes, it was—again—the teensiest bit red. And again, horns peppered the air.
“I’m in the middle of an existential crisis!” she roared out the window, pumping her fist.
What the hell was she doing?
Had she lost her mind?
Dom would be livid. Malik would be cursing her name. A pair of delivery truck drivers were probably calling the police this very second. Still, she hadn’t been completely inconsiderate. She’d left a note for Dom, informing him that she hadn’t been kidnapped and simply needed an itsy-bitsy escape from the rock star grind.
A shiver prickled down her spine. Had she also mentioned possibly not making it to her last concert? Yep. That line of text seemed to write itself. Perhaps it was stress. There was so much riding on this show. She was on the cusp of hitting double platinum and proving her worth as a performer, but she couldn’t go on feeling like an imposter in somebody else’s story. The scathing review—Justin’s cruel words—flashed through her mind.
Aria Paige-Grant is desperate to win the world’s approval but doesn’t have the chops to do anything more than sound like a cardboard version of her musical family.
He’d written it to hurt her and keep her occupied. The creep!
Heat rose to her cheeks. She reached over to the passenger seat where she’d placed the box of bonbons, which she’d happily pay for once she had some cash. Grabbing two, she jammed the chocolate delights into her mouth. The cocoa deliciousness usually brought her some relief, but between her heart breaking over Oscar’s betrayal and Justin’s planted review festering like a wound that wouldn’t heal, she couldn’t help but wonder if there was a glimmer of truth to the biting words. Irritation coursed through her body. Fidgety and frustrated, she brushed an errant lock of hair from her cheek. She ignored the grating sensation and focused on the stretch of road. Traversing the familiar route, she took a right onto a boulevard she’d traveled many times and prayed that her auto theft antics would lead to some clarity.
She kept her eyes on the road and dialed back her speed as she entered the serene setting. The place wasn’t busy. A lone black sedan parked up the road appeared to be her only company.
Good, she wouldn’t disturb anyone.
She pulled over next to a towering evergreen and cut the ignition. Her pulse slowed. The muscles at the base of her neck relaxed. While her methods might have mirrored a madwoman, it was good that she’d come here. She inhaled, then exhaled slowly. It was the first breath she’d taken since she’d left Havenmatch Island that didn’t feel like she was gasping for air.
Moving methodically, she grabbed the bonbons, her notebook, and her violin case and exited the truck. The prickling sensation gave way to a low, pulsing thrum as the beat of her heart synced with the gentle breeze.
This was where she needed to be.
