Page 112 of Road Trip to Forever
“I know you don’t, but the bed will be much better. You can stretch out. I’m going to bring you an icepack and you can relax.”
“An ice pack? You have one?”
“I have a Ziplock bag that has makeup powder in it and ice from down the hall. I’m improvising, but I think it’ll do.”
“You’re so smart, Lola. Such a smart and pretty girl.”
Patrick winces as he stands, and when we make it to the bed, he drops his towel to the floor and crawls under the covers. I grab the cold bag and set it on his forehead.
“How’s that?” I ask.
“Better. I just need a little more sleep. Maybe another hour or two. Will you stay with me?”
“I’m not going anywhere, Patrick,” I say again, climbing into bed behind him and wrapping my arms around his waist. Taking care of the person I love is the only thing on my mind.
I kiss his shoulders. His neck and his arms. I kiss everywhere I can to convey I’m never going to leave him. Not now, in his weakest moments. Not when he’s strong and proud. Not ever.
I don’t know how long we lie there. His breathing turns into soft snores and his muscles turn limber against my body. My own eyes grow heavy as the sun hangs higher in the sky, the day slipping away.
“I love you,” I murmur against his skin as I fade into unconsciousness. I want to release the words before I fall asleep, set them free so I don’t have to hold on to them alone anymore.
“I love you too,” I think I hear Patrick murmur back, but maybe it’s just a dream.
THIRTY-ONE
LOLA
“Lola.You’re number twenty-eight on the runway today. You’ll have access to the backstage area a half hour before your call time to get your models ready, which should be in ten minutes. There will be coordinators keeping track of time. Utilize them. They are your team for the next few days. If you have any preferences for organization or order lineup, convey that to them.” Janet Ross, the Florida Fashion Show director, looks up from her clipboard and gives me a frazzled smile, clearly winded from talking a mile a minute. I’ve barely been able to keep up. “Do you have any questions?”
Only about a million and one.
I return her smile and shake my head, knowing there’s no way she can answer everything whirling around in my brain. I haven’t had a second to think since I came downstairs an hour ago and was taken directly to have my credentials checked, my garments verified, and a photo snapped for the show’s website. It’s been running from point A to B to C, and the chaos hasn’t allowed me any time to panic.
I might be stressed as hell, but at least I’m not totally freaking out.
Yet.
Small victories.
“No,” I say. “You covered everything.”
“You’ll see people walking around with both cameras and their phones. They’re doing PR for the show. If they ask you a question, feel free to answer, but keep it brief. It gives you a better chance of actually ending up on their social media accounts. Marjorie is the head makeup artist and Karl is in charge behind the curtain. Any issues or problems, you let them know and they’ll handle it. Sound good?”
“Yeah.” I nod and swallow, a fine sheen of sweat forming on my forehead. I brush it away with the back of my hand and hope my smile doesn’t look like a grimace. “Sounds great.”
Janet reaches out and gives my shoulder a squeeze. “Good luck, Lola. We’re excited to have you here.”
I blink and she’s gone, off to give the same spiel to the next fifty designers. Seventy-five are entered in the women’s division alone today, with dozens more slated for the remaining three days. I’ve never seen an event of this magnitude, a broad scope of talent and varying styles. Winning the show would be a dream, but I’ll also be happy just hearing my name called as an honorable mention among people who have been doing this for years.
I take a deep breath and head to grab my purse, ready to make my way backstage when I run into a firm body and almost tumble to the ground.
“Whoa, hey. Easy, Lo,” Patrick says, his hands settling on my arms. “There you are.”
“Hi,” I answer, taking another deep breath and wrapping him in a hug. “You’re here.”
“Of course I’m here. Where else would I be?” He pulls out of my embrace and smiles down at me. “Did you remember to eat breakfast and take your medicine?”
“Yeah. I met up with some friends and got plenty of nutrients. Eggs and oatmeal.” I gesture to my bag off to the side of the room and the two cups next to it. “I also brought you a coffee. I wasn’t sure when you’d be downstairs or if you’d have time to get one for yourself.”
