Page 58 of In the Stars

Me: Your fans are looking for you.

He immediately messagesme back an eye roll emoji followed by an emoji that’s sticking out its tongue.

I grin and shoot him another text.

Me: You are very photogenic.

Wes: So I see. If you want, I can send you some pictures of me alone, without the fans, if you want to stare.

Me: That would be nice. Gives me something to drool over when I’m bored in court. LOL

He laughreacts to my text, then sends me three pictures back-to-back. He’s in bed in two of the photos. The last one he’s making a weird face while he’s standing on his balcony, the sun peeking over his shoulder.

God, he’s so handsome. I can’t wrap my head around him being in love with me.Me.

I’m nothing special. Just a plain, small-town lawyer that lives in the same house he grew up in. I’m a nobody, and he’s…somebody. But I know that when he says he loves me—that he’salwaysloved me—he means it.

I respond with a quick text.

Me: You look ridiculous. And handsome. Your hair is growing back.

Wes: I think I’ll let it. I miss it. Even though it’s been cut short for the past six months, I haven’t gotten used to it since I had long hair since I was 18.

Me: You look good either way.

Wes: Flattery will get you emojis.

Then he proceedsto send me about eighty kissy heart emojis.

I bark a laugh and hold my phone to my chest. It’s been a bad day, but he’s making it brighter.

At the thought of what today is, a frown crosses my face as my lip trembles. It requires effort to push the tears back.

It’s my mother’s birthday. I was trying to take my mind off it when I saw the photos of Wes, and for a minute, he made me forget and chased away the sadness in my heart.

He loved Mom too, so I text him and ask if he wants to join me and Dad at her gravesite, then to have some lunch to celebrate her life. My phone rings shortly after I send off the text.

“Of course I’d love to come. Do I need to wear something special or…?”

“Nah. You know she wouldn’t have judged your clothes.” I smile slightly, even though he can’t see me. “She saw you in those tight leather pants in that music video you shot in Thailand. She said you had a cute butt.”

He groans. “Your mom looking at me in leather pants is all kinds of wrong.”

We share a chuckle, but it doesn’t last long. “I miss her,” I whisper, that familiar lump forming in my throat.

“Me too,” he murmurs. “What time would you like me to meet you?”

“Me and Dad,” I tell him. “In an hour?” I’m still lying in bed, not having taken a shower yet. I woke up feeling a pressure on my chest because of today’s date and wasn’t ready to face the day.

For the past five years, we’ve visited Mom’s grave early in the morning and went to lunch to share memories about her. Going to see her has gotten better over the years, but it hasn’t gotten any easier. She played a big part in my and Dad’s lives, and her absence is still felt.

“I’ll be there. Love you.”

We’ve said those words to each other every day, several times a day since he came over last week. They still give me butterflies.

“I love you too. See you soon.”

After we hang up, I force myself out of bed and into the shower. I stand under the hot spray for as long as I can, letting it wash away all my troubles, hurts, and pains. It doesn’t do much, but I take whatever relief I can get.

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