Page 145 of Booked on You
Scarlett
Good luck tonight! You’re going to be amazing.
I’ve readit about fifty times.
Willow meows at my feet, and I pick her up, holding her against my chest. She purrs and headbutts my chin.
“You miss her, too, don’t you?”
Willow just purrs louder, digging her claws into my shirt, and I spend a moment with the little furball.
Once she’s had enough, I set her down, and head upstairs to get ready.
My suit is laid out on the bed where I left it this morning. Navy blue, tailored, the one I bought earlier in the year for this event. I shower and clean up my facial hair, taking my time getting dressed because the alternative is standing around checking my phone every thirty seconds.
The shirt fits well. The jacket sits across my shoulders exactly how I wanted. I adjust my tie, then have to do it again before I get it right. As I stand in front of the mirror, I look good. Professional and put together.
I look good, professional, and put together, like my heart isn’t breaking.
My phone buzzes and I snatch it up quickly to see it’s just a text from my aunt.
Millie
Heading to the event center now. Are you there?
Ezra
Leaving now.
Millie
Great! See you there!
I text back a thumbs-up and shove my phone in my pocket.
The drive to the convention center takes twenty minutes. The parking lot is packed, and I drive up to the valet, where they take my keys. We sold one thousand tickets as soon as it was listed online six months ago. They’re going on resale sites for thousands of dollars, with people hoping to catch a glimpse of me and Scarlett. Unfortunately, that won’t be happening tonight.
However, I’m so damn happy because every single seat is filled. It’s the most successful year we’ve ever had. My mom would be so dang proud.
I check my pocket to make sure my notes for my speech are still there. As I move down the sidewalk of the venue, I notice the crispness in the night air and can hear classical music mixed with laughter drifting from inside the building.
I make it about ten feet before I hear my name being called.
“Ezra! Over here!”
Cameras flash and I freeze in place. There are at least six photographers near the entrance, cameras raised, shouting questions I don’t want to answer.
“Ezra, where’s Scarlett?”
“Is she coming tonight?”
“Are you two still together?”
“Haven’t seen the two of you in over a week. Is there trouble in paradise already?”
I continue walking forward, pretending like I don’t hear a word. My PR training from years of dealing with this kicks in. I don’t engage, just pick up my pace until my pap walk is over.
“Ezra, come on, answer just one question! Is it true she wrote a book about your relationship?”
