Page 125 of Wingwoman
I rolled my eyes. “Can you stop talking in metaphors for once?”
“The great love stories are fast and intense. They’re an unstoppable train barrelling toward a cliff’s edge. A massive wave that will eventually break and crash along the shore.”
“Those are more metaphors. Just talk to me. What are you saying?”
“The greatest love stories that make peoplefeelare tragic tales that leave you aching… here.” He pressed his palm to my heart.
I shook my head. “Not all love stories end tragically.”
“Don’t they?” He backed up, grabbing his guitar from where he’d set it aside on my bed.
“If my dad can find an amazing woman like Vivian in this crazy world? Then yeah. There’s hope for all of us. Even you, Josh.”
He paused in the doorway, turning around to look at me from over his shoulder, another small smile graced his face, making hope bounce in my chest. “So if your dad can make it, then we can, too?”
I nodded. “That’s right.”
His smile widened. “Then I guess we’ll have to wait and see how this wedding goes, won’t we?”
I sighed into my smile just as he added, “In the meantime, though, why don’t we make sure these next five weeks are the best of our lives?”
He was out the door, not waiting for my response to leave.
There was a lot riding on my dad’s wedding.
And I wasn’t sure if he was up for the task.
Thirty-Five
JOSH
Fuck.She was changing the plan.
Our plan.
She was supposed to be in love with that asshole ex of hers… make him jealous by using me… then leave me for him so I could write all about my broken heart.
Did she not love him anymore?
On one hand, I’d never felt lighter at the thought of that. Somehow, impossibly, she’d weaseled her way into my heart these last few weeks and I wanted more than anything for her to stay with me and not go running back to that cocksucker ex of hers.
But on the other hand?
I was scared.
I was fucking scared.
And I only had one song finished. One song didn’t make a hit album. One song that was the opposite of my brand. It wasn’t about heartbreak. It wasn’t the soul crushing tune that teenagers would cry over.
I had sent my producers a crude demo of it last night…
…and heard crickets.
Nothing. Not even an email confirmation of receipt.
The knot in my stomach grew three sizes larger.
“Are you nervous?” Hope asked as the limo slowed to a stop outside of the event hall.
