Page 6 of Please Hate Me

“See! There’s a smile.” Sophia cooed. She pinched my cheek, and I swatted her away.

Unbothered by my reaction, she hummed a cheery pop tune as she began fiddling with her phone. Her acrylic nails made satisfyingtippity-tapsevery time they hit the screen. She heldup the device and angled it so that we could both be seen in the self-view, adjusting and re-adjusting her platinum waves while we waited.

The call connected, and Cameron filled the screen. His copper hair was wild, and the bags under his eyes were dark. Seeing him felt like I could breathe for the first time in months. I knew I’d been missing Cameron, but the sight of his strong face made me desperate for his presence. Not long now, and he would be home.

A warm smile lit up his face, and my heart skipped.

“How are two of my favorite people?” He sounded exhausted. I wondered if he had been taking care of himself.

“I’m great!” Sophia chirped. “Lucian was talking about committing murder a few minutes ago.”

Cameron’s face pinched in confusion.

“Don’t tell him that!” I huffed. Cam was always getting onto me for my temper, and I didn’t want to give him a reason to lecture me. “I wouldn’t actually kill anyone–my brother is getting on my fucking nerves.”

“The homicide detective, right?”

“Unfortunately.”

Cameron’s lips parted, but before he could speak, I could hear a voice over the airport intercom announcing, “Ladies and gentlemen, we are now boarding first-class passengers for flight EK405 to Madrid. Please proceed to gate 12A for boarding.”

“Shit,” Cameron muttered. “I promise I’ll call the second I get to my layover, okay?”

I tried to hide my disappointment with a nod.

“We’ll be waiting,” I told him. “Love you.”

“Oh, I love you!” Sophia echoed.

“Love you too… both of you.” He blew us both a kiss before ending the call.

Our conversation was too short, just enough to drive me wild with impatience. But as excited as I was to see Cameron, a silly question nagged at me: what were the chances that he would run into the mystery girl who was catfishing Sebastian? She was supposedly from France–what if they were on the same flight?

Chapter 3

Mason

After two layovers and over a day of traveling, I was finally on my last flight before the long car ride to Hartwood, Maine, where I’d start my new life. It was a thought just as exciting as it was terrifying.

But I was excited to finally have a real family. I’d be the mom, Seb would be the dad, and Lavender would be allowed to just be a kid. She wouldn’t be toted around to interviews or forced to take care of her own needs from a young age. Her only job would be to love and be loved.

As a reward for nearly completing my journey, I indulged in a cinnamon roll the size of my head and a frozen “coffee” that tasted more like a chocolate milkshake that was full of tiny bits of ice. And, of course, a phone call with Sebastian, who laughed at me as I stuffed my face.

He found every action I took, every quirk I displayed, endearing. Sebastian had an unyielding fascination with me that I could never understand. While his affection was heartwarming, I could tell he had no genuine love for me.He refused to acknowledge, let alone accept, my flaws and imperfections. He was in love with a perfect version of me, a fantasy. And he would’ve done anything to keep that fantasy alive. Which was exactly why I needed him—he was a constant presence in my life, and I needed someone who would never leave.

My daughter deserved the stability I never had, and God knows I wasn’t going to find her biological father. He was just some redneck at one of my dad’s concerts.

As I settled into my spacious seat in the business class cabin, I was relieved to notice that the seat next to me was still empty. The solitude would be nice. Fans had recognized me on each of my previous three flights, launching impromptu multi-hour Q&A sessions. My throat was starting to hurt from talking that whole time. I loved my fans, but I also craved a little peace. Time to myself where I could sleep or read without being disrupted. Finally, I’d have that.

Or at least that’s what I thought, until I heard a flight attendant talking to someone nearby.

“I’m so sorry, sir,” she pleaded. “I know you paid for first class, but— “

As the flight attendant began approaching my seat, a sinking feeling settled in my stomach. The unexpected interruption shattered my hopes of solitude and threatened to disrupt the peaceful journey I had envisioned for myself. But as the man spoke, a jolt of recognition raced through my veins.

“Ain’t no reason for you to be sorry.” His resonant baritone drawl caused shivers to cascade down my spine.

“Thank you for being so kind with all of this.”

---