Page 52 of Hard to Break

I throw my napkin on the table. The idea of Kevin claiming the moral high ground in any sense is laughable. “Excuse me. I can’t eat right now.”

I throwmyself into drafting some social media content for Nova. I love her new direction and approach. It’s hard to be a creator, an artist, and follow a new path—especially when her career relies on being able to bring her fans along with her.

After our visit to LA, I followed up with the owner at the Coastal Gallery. He still isn’t convinced of Nova’s new direction, but I’ve been working to remind him how brilliant and in-demand she is through a series of posts highlighting her recent successes. They’ve liked more than one of the posts, so I know they’re seeing them.

I’m nearly ready to send him a draft pitch. Nova will curate a completely original collection of paintings in a fresh new style. And after all, isn’t that what his patrons want? For Coastal to be a trailblazer? All he has to do is say yes.

Remembering my talk with Elise in New York, I sent an email to Sarah to ask for any help with partnerships and included my contact info. She said she’d get back to me shortly.

My mind keeps wandering.

I go to the suitcase I half unpacked and pull out the glittery red heels that Miles had fixed for me after the costume party.

I step into them. They look ridiculous with my outfit, but I don’t take them off as I click around my room because they make me think of the party. Me asking him to go to the Kappa retreat with me.

God, I was naive. Had no clue how hard I would fall.

I can’t resist typing out a text.

Brooke: When are you playing next?

I drop into the chair in front of my desk to work for a minute, two, before my phone buzzes.

Miles: Still waiting to hear back from my agent.

Brooke: Guess you can celebrate on roller coasters with Kodashians in the meantime.

Miles: Hah. Funny thing, there’s only one girl I want to be with.

Longing sneaks up, making my next breath painful.

I’ve always wanted to be my own person, and I am. But it feels as if when I walked out with that suitcase, he kept part of me.

I cross my legs and my shoes sparkle red in the light.

“There’s no place like home.”The words from the Wizard of Oz come back to me.

I’m in the house I grew up in with my family, but it feels as if my home is somewhere else entirely.

My finger finds the call button before I can stop myself.

“Hey.” Miles’s voice is surprised and pleased.

“Hey.”

If he’s upset that I called, there’s no trace of it in his tone, which only makes me want to crawl through the phone and into his arms.

The fact that he answered after one ring makes me think he might let me.

“How’s the space going?” he asks.

He’s right. This was probably a bad idea. “If you don’t want to talk?—”

“Not what I meant. I’m glad you called.”

The knot in my chest loosens. “How’s life?”

He sighs. “You want the truth?”

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