Page 150 of Wingwoman
“Maybe not, but that’s how it starts,” she snapped. “And I need at leastoneman in my life who doesn’t turn to the bottle when life gets rough!”
The wet glass pushed slowly into the dustpan with each sweep of the broom. I stared at the mess. The shards of glass coated in glossy amber liquid. “You need this from me,” I repeated on a snort. “Welcome to the club. Everyone needs something from the famous Josh Gabriel. Why should you be any different, right? My label needs a hit song. The horses need my success. My dad needs me to pay off his debts. Andyou. You needed my image to make Brent jealous.” I lifted the full dustpan of glass and dumped it in the garbage.
“That was your idea,” her voice cracked right along with her veneer.
“And it worked like a charm.”
“You’re an asshole.” Tears slid down her cheeks.
“I sure am. Nina tried to warn you, didn’t she?”
I watched her throat bob with a thick swallow. “I came here to level with you, Josh. To give you a chance at a real life. Withme. People might need you… but I think you need me too. You just won’t admit it.”
A flicker of hope caught in my heart like the single flame of a dying candle.
“I do need you, Hope,” I said, my voice brittle but sharp, like those shards of glass at the bottom of my trash can. “I need you toleave.”
She took a cautious step closer to me. Blood thundered in my ears and my chest hitched with my breath. “Don’t,” I warned her.
But she ignored me with a shake of her head. “I don’t care if you don’t forgive yourself yet for Jenn.Iforgive you. Let that be your step one, Josh. All you have to do is say yes. Say yes that you can love me too.” Her hands cradled the sides of my face. “Say yes and write beautiful music about love and joy rather than heartbreak and despair. Choose me. Choose us. Choose to be happy.”
A thousand kites took off in my stomach, catching the flame of that single candle and spinning and whipping around.
She loved me. She saw a future with me.
A future that could be wedding bells and white picket fences and horse rescues. And babies.
The image swelled in my mind of Hope pregnant with my baby.
I squeezed my eyes shut, not wanting to think of how goddamn happy I’d be. Trying not to imagine us in the future cooking together. Taking our kids on rides with the horses, then snuggling on the couch for family movie night. Tucking our babies into bed, then sneaking away to make love quietly.
No, I couldn’t sit there and think of how I’d look into the depths of her brown eyes as she lifted her hips to meet my thrusts. Squeezing her smooth thighs around my hips as I came, both of us hoping for baby number three.
These thoughts were dangerous.
Because they weren’t real.
Just as she brushed her mouth over mine, my cell phone rang.
The fantasy evaporated.
The storybook illustration of us smeared like chalk paint in a rainstorm.
I looked down at my phone, face up on the counter beside us. Micah… my producer.
Hope shook her head, her eyes shiny and glistening like she was looking up at me from beneath water. “Don’t,” she whispered. “Josh, if you answer that phone right now, then you’ve made your choice. And it isn’t me.”
Happily ever after didn’t exist.
Bzzzzz.
I’d seen it time and time again. My friends who were already divorced.
Bzzzzz.
My mom covered in bruises that my dad gave her.
Bzzzzz.
