Next, I Google my name. Images pop up of me, always standing in Grayson’s shadow, sweetly smiling and proudly watching on. There’s still no mention of my current absence. Like I thought before, it’s like I’m not even missing.
Brynn and I said we wouldn’t call each other, but we need to talk. I need whatever update she might have. I grab my phone and send her fake account a quick message, and right as I hit send, a text comes in from West.
West: Vianca’s birthday. You’re still in, right?
I stare at the message. I want to be in, but all my secrets are telling me to take a step back. I shouldn’t be doing this, whateverthisis with West. I should be moving on, I should always be moving.
Anne snatches the phone from my hand. “Oh, hell, yeah, you’re still in.”
“Anne!” I didn’t realize she’d hung up with that girl.
Yes, I’m in,she types, hits send, and hands it back. “There. Now stop thinking about it.”
CHAPTER 25
Of course,I don’t stop thinking about it. I obsess over it all the way to Orlando. It’s late when we get in, and in the morning I meet West in the hotel’s lobby. He grabs my duffel and leads the way out to a Mustang he’s rented. “From Orlando, it’ll take us two hours to get there. Not long.”
Nerves do jumping jacks all through me—they’re impossible to ignore.
In two hours I’m going to meet his family. I’m not funny or witty. They’re going to think I’m a dud.
For the first hour he talks non-stop about all the promotional work they’ve been doing, the crazy questions reporters ask, and new stuff Ms. Kelly booked for them.
I try to listen, I really do, but I’m completely distracted by the fact I’ll be meeting his family—I check the time—in under one hour. Maybe I made a mistake agreeing to this trip. Shouldn’t I be more excited than scared?
“Eve?”
“Yes?”
He reaches over and takes my hand, pressing a kiss to it. “It’s going to be okay. Don’t be nervous.”
“I’m not,” I lie.
He threads his fingers through mine and lays them on my knee. “Yes, you are. You don’t need to be, though. My family’s great. You’ll see.”
He lets go of my hand to turn on the radio, and then he naturally takes it right back, like we’ve been holding hands for years. Despite my crazy nerves, the familiarity of the gesture relaxes me.
“What do you think about...?” And that’s how the rest of the hour goes—him asking what I think about all these different things. Chocolate versus vanilla. Steak versus chicken. Ketchup to mustard. Sweet or salty. Winter or summer. Beach or the mountains.
He’s trying to distract me. And, well, it does work.
“This is the bridge to the island,” West says, making new anxiety roll through me.
We cross the Intracoastal that gives a view of the overgrown marsh, a scattering of homes, sailboats anchored in private coves, and tiny canals zigzagging off the waterway.
West points out his window. “Check out the marina. They’ve got a ton more boats than the last time I was here.”
West turns down a road that gives us a view of the Atlantic Ocean that alternates between shades of green, turquoise, and blue. Sparkling sun prisms dance over the surface. “It’s beautiful,” I say.
He turns the car into a neighborhood. “We’re here.”
I put my hand on my stomach. Calm down, Eve. Geez.
“You’re makingmenervous.” He inhales a deep breath and blows it out fast. “I think you need to do a few of those.”
I consider just telling him I’ll stay in the car the whole time. But that’s ridiculous.
He tugs on my earlobe, and it sends flutters from my scalp down across my neck. “Relax.”