Page 148 of How You See Me
He stops mid-toss. “Josie, sweetie. You paint because you’re breathing. You don’t need a reason.”
Fair.
He gets back to tearing through my suitcase. T-shirts, jeans, a hoodie—toss, toss, toss.
“There’s plenty to do and see in Vegas, and we’re doing and seeing it all.”
“Grant . . .” I cross my arms in a show of defiance. I’d much rather spend my free night with my paints and close to my phone where I can answer if Hayes calls or texts with updates.
“Is this all you brought?”
“I packed light, and I knew my personal stylist would have my back.”
He points a perfectly manicured finger at me. “You know it. Honestly, I’d hoped clothes would be forgotten with all that muscle within reach.” He convulses with a full-body shiver. “Delicious.”
“Grant!” I scold but a laugh cuts it off. Classic Grant. Dramatic, inappropriate, and exactly what I need—even if I won’t admit it. His ego’s living large enough already.
Unapologetic, he claps his hands together. “I know what we can do until the nightlife heats up. My favorite activity.”
“I’m not sleeping with you. Gross.”
“Eww.”
“Right?” I flash a cheeky grin.
“Today is the perfect time to go shopping for all the glorious cocktail and formal dresses you’ll need for the show events.”
With a sigh, I dip the brush into a swirl of green paint. “Can it wait until I finish this?”
“How long will that take?” He flops dramatically onto the bed, leaving the mess he made of my suitcase as is.
I point the brush handle toward the chaos. “However long it will take you to put all that back the way you found it.”
He glares at me as if I told him a strand of his hair was out of place. “Excuse me?”
“You made the mess. You clean it up.”
“Who are you?”
I lift a shoulder. Guess Hayes’ obsession with order and neatness was contagious. “Still Josie.”
“No, no, no. I think you left my best friend in the desert somewhere.” A coy grin tips up the corner of his lips.
He’s right. I did lose a piece of me along the way. The piece that held me back. My back straightens, proud of allI’ve accomplished in such a short time. “Yep. Before you is a new and improved version. Josie 2.0.”
“That’s cool.” He rises off the mattress to press a kiss to my forehead. “But I don’t care what version shows up. You’ll always be my favorite girl.”
???
When Grant grows tired of waiting, I clean up my mess and head into the bathroom to get ready. I hope I brought something that will make me appear less—as he put it—fresh out of the morgue. I’d ignore him and go bare faced if he wasn’t right . . . again.
I’m pale as a dead sheep (are there morgues for farm animals?), and my red, swollen eyes from crying myself to sleep aren’t helping me look any more alive, much less Vegas ready. Not that I want anything to do with going out and pretending my heart isn’t missing
With mascara and blush in hand, I go to tap my phone’s music app, pausing when I find a missed text from Hayes.
Knees trembling, I lower to the edge of the tub to read the short message.
Hayes:Thank you for the note. I miss you, too.
