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“Great.” I nodded. “So, tell that stalker-ass, weirdo bitch of yours to keep my name and my app name, out of her mouth.”
“Rori—”
“Tell her that if she doesn’t, I will give her a good… let’s say a year postpartum. And then after that, I will beat her ass.”
“That’s not necessary, you don’t have to be like that.”
“She doesn’t have to be like that,” I countered. “She is not necessary. You are not necessary. Leave me the fuck alone. I don’t need this. You know I don’t need this.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “Seriously. I?—”
I’d never know what else he had to say.
I hung up, and he couldn’t call back.
Perfect.
When I looked at my phone, I noticed that I had a missed text from Tatum, who I remembered, quite suddenly, I’d been mid-conversation with when everything went to hell.
I navigated to our text thread, seeing the messages from this morning with the addition of the new one.
Call me when you come up for air.
I really wanted to call right then, but I wasn’t quite in the clear yet. I still did have press and publicity shit to do. I cleaned myself as best as I could, grabbing a nicer shirt from the stash in my office closet before I got on camera to do that little follow-up video.
And then I did call Tatum.
As soon as he answered the phone, he said two simple sentences.
“I know you’re stressed. Come to Wildwood with me.”
I didn’t have to think very hard about my answer.
“Yes.”
TWELVE
AURORA
“I probably should’ve said no, shouldn’t I? A trip together? A trip together is insane, right?”
When I didn’t immediately receive an answer, I peeked out of my closet to find Sierra perched on the end of my bed, head in her hands.
“Hey,” I asked, stepping out. “Are you okay?”
Her head snapped up. “No, actually.”
“What?! What’s going on?” I was next to her in a flash, grabbing her hands as she met my gaze.
In the most serious tone I’d ever heard her use, she told me, “I’m about to beat your ass if you don’t throw a cowboy hat in that suitcase and go screw that man in a pasture for a week.”
“Oh my god,” I laughed, shoving her hands away so I could retake my post in the closet. “I’m trying to be serious here!”
“So am I!” she called out. “You give me one good reason you should’ve said no to this invitation!”
I blew out a sigh as I flipped deliberately through the hangers, mentally rejecting item after item as not being right for the occasion. “Well, we can start with barely knowing each other? That game was, what, like, three months ago?”
That was what I preferred to attach the “first time we met” memory to.