Page 118 of Booked on You
“Don’t let me go,” she whispers.
“I won’t,” I say, opening the gate. I hear someone yell, “There they are.”
We sprint across the grass, and I laugh, holding her hand, pulling her with me. Seconds later, I’m opening the passenger door of Millie’s Mustang for Scarlett. Cameras snap and click nonstop, the flashes flickering in broad daylight as I run to the driver’s seat.
“Let’s get the fuck out of here, shall we?” I start the engine and peel out, leaving tire marks.
Scarlett glances over at me. “Your aunt drives a classic Mustang.”
“Only when she’s in a mood.” I smile, taking her hand, kissing her knuckles as we leave the chaos of the world behind us.
Scarlett’s hand rests on my thigh, her thumb tracing circles absentmindedly. The familiar stretch of road ahead calms my racing pulse, every mile pulling us farther from the cameras, gossip, and endless speculation. Scarlett pulls out her laptop and writes as we flee. Two hours later, the beach house comes into view. It looks exactly as it did the last time I visited. It’s a secluded two-story beach home, tucked among gentle dunes and shaded by palms.
Scarlett’s mouth falls open. “This is Millie’s?”
“Yeah,” I say with a chuckle. “My uncle Benji, her husband, was rich as fuck. Left her everything.”
“Oh,” Scarlett says.
I park in the gravel driveway, cutting the engine, and it rumbles into silence.
“It’s beautiful,” she whispers.
“Yeah.” I unbuckle my seat belt, but I’m looking at her. “This was their sanctuary. I haven’t been here in a decade. But Millie always knew how to escape the world.”
“I’m appreciative.” Scarlett closes her laptop.
“Let’s go.”
I grab her backpack from the back seat along with my bag. I open her door, wrapping my arm around her as the fresh ocean air surrounds us. The code on the lock is the same as it’s always been. As soon as we walk in, Scarlett gasps at the view. Blue ocean goes on for miles. “How am I going to get any work done with this view?”
I chuckle, looking at her. “I understand that sentiment.”
Just like Millie used to do, I open the windows in the living room, allowing the breeze to blow in. Sunlight spills across worn wooden floors, and the entire house smells like salt and sunshine. Scarlett walks out onto the deck with her laptop and stares out at the water.
“You okay?” I ask, watching her settle in.
She glances up at me, smirking. “Better now. I think this is exactly what I needed.”
“If you need anything, let me know, okay?”
“I will,” she whispers. I stare out toward the gentle waves. “I like escaping with you.”
“Oh, babe, fucking same.”
For a moment, we’re quiet, just taking it all in. The intensity of the last twenty-four hours is forgotten and replaced by peace. It’s just the two of us.
“I’m sorry you got dragged into this media circus because of me,” I whisper.
She turns her head toward me, eyes steady. “It was only a matter of time before they found you. I’ve written too many easter eggs.”
As our eyes meet, I feel something far deeper. “You really do put yourself into your books.”
She nods. “It’s well-known. It’s why my ex hates me. It was a little too real, and it didn’t paint him in the best light. However, that’s who I am. That’s how I heal. So, I guess this should be a warning for you.”
I lean down and kiss her, the world around us fading. I bend down in front of her, where she has to look into my eyes.
“I’m not afraid of the things you’ll write about me.” I give her a smile.
