Page 87 of Life’s Too Short

Why hadn’t she talked to me about this? We talked about everything—except her channel. Maybe this was another topic she preferred didn’t bleed into the rest of her life. After all, it was over between them.

At least it had been before today.

Now I half wondered if she said she didn’t date because she was holding out for someone else. Holding out for him. Maybe he couldn’t stand being away from her and he was quitting stunts. Maybe this was him coming to tell her. Sweep her off her feet.

And now I was sitting here, babysitting for a woman I was in love with while she went out on a date with her ex.

And that’s truly what it was. I was in love with her.

The reality of this hit me like a gavel coming down. An instant call to attention. A hard stop.

I was in love with her.

But of course I was in love with her. Who wasn’t?

She could have any man she wanted. Any man at all.

Women like Vanessa were muses for artists and musicians. They became famous paintings and love ballads. They danced in the rain and ran away with princes who would give up their thrones to have them. They were the sirens that sailors wrote about with voices that could lure a man to his death.

She was a beautiful migratory bird with her wings clipped. And the second she could, she’d fly again. Out of St. Paul, away from me…

And probably back to him.

CHAPTER 20

THE LUCRATIVE INVESTMENT THAT THE EXPERTS DON’T WANT YOU TO KNOW ABOUT!

VANESSA

A crowd of fans had gathered outside of Vermilion. Someone must have leaked our location.

By myself, I was a draw. By himself, Drake was a massive draw. Together, we were a galaxy-level, defying-the-laws-of-physics, magnetic force. People were probably feeling the pull and getting into buses to drive in from out of state and they didn’t even know why.

Laird was getting his camera ready and Malcolm was putting new batteries in my mic.

Drake was drinking some banana flip thing with a sprig of pine in it across from me. “You’re doing a great job with Grace,” he said, taking out the garnish and setting it on a plate. “But you should really use cloth diapers. Reduce your carbon footprint.”

“I don’t have a washing machine, remember?” I said. “I use Adrian’s and I seriously doubt he wants me washing dirty diapers in it.”

Malcolm snorted. “That guy would let you eat crackers in his bed.”

I laughed dryly. “Oh yeah? I kissed him last night and he pushed me off him. So riddle me that.”

“He pushed you off him?” Malcolm asked, clipping the tiny mic to the front of my dress.

“Yeah. Like you know how you act when you look down and you see a spider on you? And you’re like, ‘Oh my God! A spider!’ and you hop off the sofa and do a little freak-out dance and then run from the room? It was like that.”

“Come on, it was not,” Drake said with his amused smile.

“Okay, it wasn’t quite that dramatic. But the sentiment was the same.” I scoffed. “Why does everyone keep telling me this guy is into me? Like, literally everyone I know in the last twenty-four hours had sworn that he can’t keep his eyes off me. Honestly, if it wasn’t for that, and liquor, and the super sweet ‘you are the breeze’ thing he said to me on my sofa last night, I might not have made a total ass of myself. I blame all of you for this.”

Drake smiled. “You’re blaming us? I hadn’t even met him until today. We weren’t even there.”

I put a hand on my chest. “Well, it’s not my fault. I wasn’t there either. It was Drunk Vanessa, who is a totally different person and shouldn’t be held accountable for her actions.”

Drake laughed.

I sighed. “Do I catch him checking me out sometimes? Sure. And does he like to spend time with me? Totally. But thinking my ass looks nice in my jeans and enjoying my company are very different from wanting to date me and my fifty percent chance of dying by thirty. It’s official,” I mumbled. “I’m probably never having sex again. My last sexual encounter will probably be with TSA.”