Page 72 of Destiny

Am I making a mistake?

At what seems like the perfect time, Blakely calls me.

“Hello?”

“Hey! Just calling to make sure you’re okay. I know you said you kind of had cold feet.”

“I did?” I have no idea what I did or didn’t say in my drunken stoper last night.

“Yes. And it’s totally valid. I can call them back and see if they’d be interested in me as a solo artist. There’s always a chance they’d say no . . .”

“No, I don’t want you to do that.” I can’t risk him getting the life he’s always wanted just because I’m unsure about my trajectory of mine. “I’ll go.”

“Oh, my God. Thank you so much, Bea. Pri, she said she’s going to go!” he yells to his girlfriend, who is away from the phone.

“Do you want us to pick you up then?”

“Would you mind?”

“Not at all. Pri or I will text you when we’re outside the hotel.”

“Sounds good!”

While I wait for that time to come, I turn on the TV and flip through the channels. Then, when I fail to find something, I turn it back off and bite at my thumbnail. My phone is on the bed next to me, and it looks like it’s just glaring at me. So, I can’t resist picking it up and calling Marco. I just want to hear his voice. And I want to tell him I’m sorry and that I love him so, so much.

But it goes straight to voicemail.

I assume he’s on another call, so I wait a bit and try again. Voicemail.

“What the actual hell? Did he fucking block me? What if there was an emergency?”

I throw it across the room in anger.

Then, I see his stupid Italian book that I paid the equivalent of a day’s worth of income for me down at the record store. I walk over to it and want to burn it or something. But I flip through some pages, and I see amore mio, something he’s called me before.

So, instead of the hateful thoughts that were once raging through my brain, I remember the good times. The first time we made love—he was drenched, but I didn’t even care. When he met my parents, and brought my father a nice bottle of whiskey. Just tucking Alessia and Aurora into bed together. Our life together has been simple but in all the best ways.

I continue reminiscing until my internal dialogue is interrupted by a ding on my phone.

Okay, it’s go time. I stand up and smooth my long, sandy-colored hair. Instead of my usual band t-shirt and tattered jeans, I’m dressed more like I have an office job. I’m wearing a nice blouse with a blazer over it.

However, when I get out to meet Blakely and Priscilla, I see that he’s in his usual attire.

“You look…interesting,” he says.

I adjust the lapel of my jacket as I sit in the back seat. “I just thought it was a good opportunity to look nice.”

His girlfriend turns around. “I think you look very pretty and grown up.”

“Thank you.”

Eventually, we pull up to a ginormous building, and a valet driver comes out to take control of Blakely’s rusted 1988 T-bird.

Then, we walk into the reception area.

“We have a meeting with Kassidy Jepson,” he says.

“Oh, sure,” the man behind the desk says. “The elevators are right over there, and her offices are on the seventh floor.”

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