Page 70 of When We Break

Beckett: I read. Text you. Do paperwork. The part when Dom punched his way through that guy’s chest…

Me: Stop! I’m not that far yet! You read ahead of me.

Beckett: Oops. Better catch up, Irish.

Suddenly, the phone rings, but it’s not Beckett. It’s my mother.

“Hello?”

“Hullo, darlin’,” she says. “And what are you about this evening?”

“Wait. It’s the middle of the night for you. What areyouabout? Is Da all right?”

“He’s fine, and he’s snoring in his bed. I couldn’t sleep,” she admits with a soft sigh. “Are you ready for the benefit dinner in LA next week?”

Scowling, I pick at a string on my leggings. “I’m not going to a benefit dinner.”

“Aye, you are. Your father emailed you about it a month ago.”

“Ma, I can’t just leave. I have a business.”

“It’s only for two days, Skyla. You need to go. Now that you’re not dancing, you can have a bigger presence regarding the charities we’re involved in—especially this one. Dreams for Kids was your idea in the first place, so you should be there. We’ll be raising a lot of money.”

“When next week?” I close my eyes, resigned to having to leave for this. “And can I take Riley?”

“We’ll be in the private jet, so of course you can. It’s next Friday night. We’ll pick you up Friday morning and take you home on Saturday. Connor will be with us, of course.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“You’ll go. I already have an haute couture dress from Dior for you,” Ma says, leaving no room to argue, and I admit, the idea of a custom dress sends a zip through me. “And it’s happy I am that I get to see my girl. It’s been too long, my darlin’.”

“I know. I miss you guys, too. Go get some sleep, Ma. Kiss Da for me.”

“I’ll try, and I will. See you soon,a stór.”

She hangs up, and I see that I have seven texts from Beckett.

Beckett: How was your day?

Beckett: Do you believe in aliens?

Beckett: There’s a position described in this book that I want to try ASAP. With some modifications, of course.

Beckett: Blink twice if you’re okay.

Beckett: Irish, don’t make me come over there.

Beckett: Are you okay? I’m actually worried that you fell and hit your head. Or, you’ve decided to ghost me.

Beckett: I will spank your ass if you don’t answer me.

I’ve just finished reading the last message when my phone rings.

“Hey, sorry about that. I’m not ghosting you.”

“You’re okay?”

“Yeah, my mum called right in the middle of texting with you. I didn’t mean to make you worry.”

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