Page 66 of Songbird
I’m the luckiest woman in the world because he kisses my hair, holds me tighter, and says, “I’m sure I love you more.”
twenty-three
Finn
ThemomentIsteponto Rosie’s private jet is the moment I realize I’ve underestimated the differences between her world and mine. I’m not talking the miles it takes to move between Silver Leaf and Los Angeles. I’m talking her forty-million-dollar personal aircraft with cream-colored leather seats and timber-topped work desks, fluffy white carpets and fully equipped kitchen, comfortable bedroom and full bathroom. It’s bigger than my entire bungalow, and someone has filled the white ceramic vases with meticulously designed floral arrangements. I think about the handfuls of wildflowers I picked to brighten up Rosie’s time with me, stuffing them in old mason jars and plonking them wherever I found a bare shelf or windowsill. The comparison is laughable, so it’s a good thing I believe money is a joke. It’s impressive, sure, but I don’t see this kind of wealth and want it for myself. All I’m thinking is how damn proud I am of the woman who built this from nothing. How the hell did I get lucky enough that she looked at me twice?
The flight from San Francisco to Los Angeles takes over an hour and we’re not alone. Two pilots and two cabin attendantsmake up the flight crew, and Rosie’s new publicist is with us as well. With half the flight still to go, Rosie has her head together with Pia, a thirty-something woman with deep auburn hair worn in a slick bun at the nape of her neck. I’m at the other end of the jet, laptop on my knees, filing away the latest social media comments frommistr_ess_el.He’s as active as ever, popping up on every post, liking every comment, making creepy promises that he’ll be with Rosie soon. It makes my reason for being here defendable, giving me a clear and compelling purpose to underpin the fact that Rosie and I belong together. That motherfucker should be behind bars, and I’m not going to rest until he is.
I add his most recent social media activity to the folder on my desktop before I send the links through to Drew via email.
Any luck on tracking this guy’s location?
Not expecting an answer straightaway, I snap my laptop closed and glance toward Rosie. She’s reading something from Pia’s lit-up tablet, and without my own device to distract me, my mind strays to Silver Leaf and what Rosie and I left behind. Mom and Dad’s old cabin, locked up and empty again after I spent a year trying to restore it. The new flagstone path to the river that’ll be worn by weather before it feels the fall of new feet. My family, farewelled with hurried goodbyes and well wishes yesterday afternoon. And Dakota, temporarily fostered by Charles at the main house, until Rosie and I are settled and can bring her back to live with us.
A sharp pang of guilt grabs me beneath the ribs, and I reach for my phone to send a text to Charles.
Me
How is she?
My phone pings almost immediately. My sister knows who I mean without having to ask, and she responds with a picture of Dakota asleep in Charles’s office, her old bed set up in one corner and her bowls filled with water and kibble.
Charles
She’s good. How are you?
I tap out my reply.
Me
Call you later.
I lock my phone screen and set it face down next to my untouched flute of champagne. I can’t lie to my sister. I want to say everything’s fine, because itisfine. It’s fucking unbelievable. I’m with Rosie, which is everything I want in the world, and who cares where we are as long as we’re together, but there’s tension in my stomach that won’t budge. The problem is going back to LA when there’s an active threat to her safety. I can’t relax until it’s neutralized.
“Finn?” Rosie calls from the other side of the plane, but by the time I’ve raised my head off the leather recliner, she’s already padding over on her bare feet and leaning in to drop a sweet kiss on my mouth. “Are you busy?”
“Nope.” I bound to my feet, thankful for something to do. “What do you need?”
Rosie’s smile is amused, and she takes my hand as she rolls her head toward her workstation. “Pia wants to talk to you.”
“Ah.” I rub the back of my neck. “Sure.”
I drop into the chair next to Rosie’s, Pia opposite and giving me a look I can only describe as professionally wary. Rosiedoesn’t let go of my hand, and I pull our twisted fingers onto my lap.
“So.” Pia sets her clasped hands on the desk and gives me a perfunctory kind of smile. “Rosalie tells me you two are in a relationship?”
Rosie and I haven’t had a conversation that would make it official, but we don’t need to. We know what we are. I meet Pia’s inquisitive look with the kind that lets her know I might not be interested in all the bullshit trappings of celebrity life, but Iaminterested in Rosie. She could declare that the ocean was made of lemonade, and I’d fight anyone who said differently.
“We are,” I confirm.
Pia nods, not easily ruffled, and that’s got to be a good thing for a woman in her line of work. “We need to talk about how to handle this in the press. The most recent public statement made about the status of Rosalie’s personal life was released by Chip Daniels, and it didn’t paint her in a particularly positive light.”
“He accused her of cheating,” I say. “And implied that he left her after discovering her infidelity.”
Rosie shifts on her chair, and I brush my thumb over the back of her hand to soothe her.
“Correct.” Pia’s focus switches from me to Rosie, then back again. “The challenge we face is timing. If you go public with your relationship now, so soon after the last-minute cancelation of the wedding, the optics won’t work in our favor. The speed of your attachment will appear to confirm the cheating rumors, and that’ll fly in the face of the statement we’ll make denying any of it was true.”
