Page 53 of Blue Moon

LUNA

Eight shows down, ninety to go.

I was still counting, but every time I ticked a performance off the list, it meant one less day that Ryder would be in Vegas, so the check marks were bittersweet. When the lights dimmed on the final show, I planned to head straight to the airport, destination Virginia.

At least, I hoped so.

This thing with Ryder, it was everything I’d thought I never wanted. Since that night with Julius, I’d figured that I’d die old and alone, or maybe young and alone if a crazed fan took me out. Mark Antony had sent me dinner every evening this week. Freak.

With each day that passed, I got more nervous, and my stalker was only part of the reason. Sooner or later, Ryder would want to have sex, and I’d have to tell him it was impossible for me. Those parts just didn’t work the way they should. The kissing, that was great, and I’d hoped that being around him, finally finding a man I trusted, might ease the problem. But three days ago at the theatre, I’d stolen a tampon from the box Aisha kept in the bathroom, and when I tried to use it, my muscles had clamped together just as tight as they always did. I’d begun sobbing in the bathroom from the pain as I tried to force it in, but quietly because someone hammered on the door and yelled at me to change into my costume.

The costume substantial enough to hide the pad I had to wear for shark week every month.

This was such a freaking mess.

I was such a freaking mess.

And what if Ryder decided I was too much trouble? Men liked sex; I knew that much. Could they live without it? I wasn’t sure I could live without him. A week had passed since he walked back into my life, and I never wanted him to leave.

Right now, we were cuddled on the couch, watching a movie, waiting for the hours to tick by so I could go do my show. We’d fallen into a routine now. Early in the morning, while it was still dark, Ryder would go out to train. Mostly in the gym, but sometimes at the shooting range as well. Then we’d spend a couple of hours chilling before it was time to go to the Palace. And kissing. There was a lot of kissing. Sometimes he’d help me to reply to fan mail, sometimes he’d grill me on driving questions, but he always stayed close. At the appointed hour, he’d switch into bodyguard mode, all tough and serious, and drive me to my show.

Yesterday, he’d skipped the workout, and we’d gone to the Helping Paws Animal Shelter with Shani and Rocky. I’d taken pictures of the dogs and cats and discussed how the folks who worked there could boost interaction on social media. They mostly posted desperate pleas for foster homes, no feel-good stories or targeted fundraising appeals. I had a hundred ideas to work on over the next week.

But not tomorrow.

Tomorrow would be different. Tomorrow, we were going on our first official date, to Blackwood’s office for Shani’s charity quiz. It was the one place outside our apartment where we could be ourselves, where we didn’t have to pretend to be client and contractor. And Ryder was also planning a surprise trip. He wouldn’t tell me where, but he’d asked if I was scared of heights. When I’d said that heights were fine, I was just scared of surprises, he’d laughed.

“You ready?”

“Huh?”

“You ready to go?” Ryder asked, and I realised the credits were rolling.

“Uh, sure. I need to use the bathroom first.”

“Moon, you feeling okay? Is that text from Jubilee still playing on your mind?”

Thankfully, he interpreted my general shakiness as nerves over my cousin’s message. She’d texted this morning, apologising again for everything that had happened in San Gallicano, but this time asking if I’d meet her for coffee. And also telling me that unfortunately, my car had been stolen, and Mom had reported it to the police. Ryder said he’d get that last part straightened out.

“I’m still not sure whether I should speak with her.”

“There’s an old saying: keep your friends close, but your enemies closer. Apart from your mom—you should stay far, far away from her.”

A giggle escaped. “So you think I should go?”

“I think you’re stronger than you were four months ago, and you’re learning to stick up for yourself. It wouldn’t be a bad idea to find out what she wants.”

“Okay, fine, I’ll tell her yes.”

“Want me to find a quiet spot?”

“Would you?”

“I’d do anything for you, moon. You know that.”

Only time would tell whether that was true.

Perfume, candy, books, make-up, the gifts didn’t stop. My dressing table was full. If I kept all that stuff, I’d need to rent another apartment—and this time, I wouldn’t be giving Cordelia the address. Hass had delivered another letter before we left for the Palace, this one complaining in cursive about my bodyguard’s “propensity for senseless violence” and his “ill-judged attack on a member of the media.” As if Ryder had meant to run over Jorge’s leg. Didn’t she understand what “accident” meant?

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