Page 147 of All Twerk, No Play

And more like a fresh start.

This is what she wanted … wasn’t it?

What would she tell me, if she were here negotiating with me?

I met his eyes across the table. So similar to hers, but missing the spark of curiosity that intrigued me. I heard her voice, clear as day:No more friends and family discounts. I can afford to pay you full price, so you’ll take my money.

I lifted my chin, channeling her confidence. “Make it five million.”

Arthur’s mouth lifted into a self-satisfied smile as he handed over a check.

I walked out of that restaurant feeling a whole lot richer.

"But Daddy I Love Him," Taylor Swift

Victoria

“Whatifhegaveup on me?” I asked, smoothing a pair of slacks in my suitcase.

“Are you repacking? Again?” Alex asked, his voice muffled by the blouse over my phone speaker.

“Of course not, shut up,” I said, hanging the blouse back up and catching my uncertain reflection in the mirrored closet doors. Packing should’ve been easy—I’d only brought two suitcases of clothes to Dad’s—but how does one dress for a groveling apology? There wasn’t a style guide: ‘What To Wear To Beg For A Second Chance from the Love of Your Life.’ Trust me, I’d googled it.

“How many times have you refolded whatever you’re holding right now?” Alex asked.

I picked up a new blouse so I could fold it for the first time. “Why did I bother calling you? All you’re going to say is that you told me so.”

“To be fair, I did tell you so.”

“I’m hanging up.”

“Hold on, wait,” he said, laughing at my expense. “You called me because you knew that after I finished giving you shit, I’d tell you exactly what you needed to hear.”

“Can we get to that now, please? Connor will be here any minute.” I looked out the window at the million dollar view, where the afternoon sky left a hazy fog over the city.

I was looking forward to seeing the stars again tonight.

“First of all, whatever you’ve packed is fine. He doesn’t care what you’re wearing,” he said as I debated between two Armani shirts then packed both. “And if things go like you want, you probably won’t be wearing—”

“Don’t say it,” I said, zipping up my suitcase and grunting as I yanked it upright.

“Second of all, he’s posted dozens of videos saying that he loves you. The only way he’ll stop is if you call him yourself. And obviously, you haven’t.”

“But he didn’t post one today,” I whispered, rolling the suitcase towards the elevator.

“Maybe something came up. Something in the building, or with his family,” Alex said. But my stomach twisted. What if something had happened to his mom? Or his sisters? I leaned against my dad’s massive built-in bookcase in the hallway, staring out at the skyline twinkling beyond the penthouse windows.

“Alex …” I closed my eyes and whispered my fear. “If he can’t forgive me, can I stay with you and Grace tonight?”

Silence. I'd never asked him for that kind of hospitality. Even when I moved to Saratoga, and he offered me their spare room, I'd bought my own place, needing my space.

But being alone tonight after rejection might send me spiraling, and I knew if I needed to lick my wounds, Grace would feed me gluten-free cookies and put on a sappy movie and not criticize me for falling apart.

"You know you're always welcome." Alex's voice was thick with emotion. “But you won’t need to, because he’d be an idiot not to take you back. Any guy would be lucky to have you.”

“Well, that’s fine, but I only want him.” I swallowed hard, knowing I had to tell Alex something else. "Connor convinced me to talk with his therapist." Alex couldn't suppress his surprised inhale.

"How do you do it? Keep going back?" I asked, my voice raspy from how raw I felt after peeling back the first layer of protection. "Talk about … all of it?"

---