Page 10 of The Bombshell and the Bodyguard
After a long moment of silence, Hap let out a sigh. “Okay. Well, if you can wait ten minutes, I’ll drop you off on my way into work. We’re editing the season finale of Tech House, and I was just about to go in. Let me grab my coffee and my keys and say good-bye to Rachel. I assume you’ve already told her?”
I smiled. “Yes, and she agrees with me. I’ll go put my bags in your car.”
Hap shook his head, grabbing the larger one. “I’ll get this one. See you in a minute.”
As we arrived at my house, I rolled down the Lamborghini’s passenger side window and spoke to the guard at the gatehouse. He’d met my brother before, but it had been a while.
“Hi Doug.”
“Hey Miss Bailey. It’s good to see you. Welcome home.”
“Thanks. It’s good tobehome—finally. You remember my brother Hap?”
The two men exchanged greetings, and Doug opened the gate for us. Hap pulled forward into the driveway, stopping the car as close to my front door as possible.
He got out and dragged my heavy bag from the back seat. Once we were inside, Hap set the suitcase down and pulled out his phone.
“I want you to call me or Rachel if you need anything. I’ll be working late tonight, but I know she’d be thrilled to hang out with you if you change your mind or get lonely.”
He tapped on the screen. “And I’m texting you Wilder’s number, in case you change your mind about having him come by with Gray and check out the house.”
“You don’t have to do that,” I started to protest, but my phone beeped with an incoming text notification.
Hap’s unrepentant grin displayed the dimples that had made his childhood face instantly recognizable and adored by television viewers nationwide.
“Too late. Love you, Kermit.”
I stretched up to hug him goodbye. “Love you too, bossy big brother. I’ll talk to you soon.”
* * *
It was nice to be home—at first.
It felt good to sit down at my own familiar piano—the same one I’d learned to play on—and mess around with the beginnings of a new song. It was nice to walk around in my old super-soft fleece pants and a ratty flannel shirt, eating ice cream straight from the carton and not even worrying when some splotched onto my fuzzy socks.
I chuckled to myself.If my fans could see “glamorous” Jade now.
After throwing the socks into the washer along with the clothes from my suitcase, I soaked in a hot bath until my fingers pruned. Then I snuggled under the covers and streamed an entire season of a show I’d heard people talking about but hadn’t had time to watch while on tour.
When it was over, I was left with a bit of a hollow feeling inside. It wasn’t that the show hadn’t ended well—it was actually really good.
It was just there was no onethereto discuss it with.
I texted with my makeup artist Serena, who’d recommended the series to me. Then I scrolled my feeds for a while, responding to some kind fan comments and posting a picture from backstage at Gillette Stadium with me and all the members of my tour.
I thanked them and all my fans for an incredible two-year run and told them I was taking a little social media hiatus to rest and recuperate.
There was a flurry of responses, which was sweet. But again… those people weren’there. No one was.
Suddenly the house seemed exceptionally quiet—and way too big for one person to live in alone. Maybe I’d sell it and get something a little cozier.
Before turning in for the night, I checked in with Hugh, the new night watchman who’d been sent over today from my security company.
“I’m getting ready to go to bed. Everything good?”
“Yes ma’am, Miss Bailey. All quiet.”
“Okay thanks. I’ll probably sleep in, so I may not see you until tomorrow night.”
