Page 102 of And Now, Back to You

She studies me, suspicious. “Yeah?”

I nod.

“You haven’t always thought so,” she accuses.

She’s right. About a month ago, I probably would have argued with her until I was blue in the face. That softness has no place in important things. But—

“I think I’ve learned to appreciate a little color.”

Her face splits into a grin that makes my chest hurt. “Like hot pink?”

“Yeah. Like hot pink.”

And honey brown and whatever shade Delilah’s bottom lip is after I’m through kissing her. A dangerous thought to have at two in the morning, when all of her is tucked up against all of me, blankets piled on top of us.

I straighten the computer and we watch as Humphrey Bogart and Ingrid Bergman meet on a rain-drenched tarmac. Delilah sighs next to me, her head drifting back to my shoulder. Our hands are still clasped together between us and I let my eyes grow heavy.

Like this, night doesn’t feel so lonely anymore.

DELILAH STEWART: Behind the snow will be a deep freeze. Plunging temperatures will turn everything to ice, threatening power lines and roadways. We advise you to stay indoors and stay safe.

CHAPTER 25

DELILAH

I wake up pinned to the mattress, Jackson half on top of my body, his face in my neck and both of his arms wrapped around my middle. There’s no way his hand isn’t numb, wedged under me like that, but he doesn’t so much as stir as I shift and yawn beneath him.

We don’t have a broadcast until the afternoon radio show, followed by a quick spot on the four o’clock news. Now that the storm is spreading out to other parts of the state, our appearances here at the lodge will become less frequent. As soon as the roads are clear and safe, we’ll head back to Baltimore and do a couple of closing segments for the partnership, and that will be that. The official end of Jackson and Delilah, Weather Together.

I reach for my phone on the nightstand, swiping it open and checking my email. It’s nothing but discount coupons for the ice-cream shop down the street from my house, a reminder to bring my car in for an oil change, and a collection of spam emails I’m too lazy to unsubscribe from. My thumb hovers over one of the social icons as I mentally debate if I want to open that can of worms. I’ve been largely avoiding the apps since Jackson and I were caught with our hot mics, but curiosity wins out.

I click in, and my eyes immediately widen.

Bright red notifications ring the bottom of my screen. A frankly terrifying number of them. Gianna did mention the online community was engaged, but she failed to mention the sheer volume of people speculating about the nature of my relationship with Jackson.

Jackson grumbles above me, shoving his face more firmly into my neck. I scratch my fingers through his hair absent-mindedly, urging him to settle while I scroll. He’s a deep sleeper when he finally falls into it. I don’t think he moved once last night, holding me like his favorite teddy bear.

I glance through the topics.

Do we think this Jackson and Delilah thing is a publicity stunt? Or did they actually get caught?

Yesterday’s Broadcast—Any clues??

Did you see his HAND around her WAIST?

Matching ski goggles!!! Please I am unhinged!!!!!!!

Aiden won’t say anything about it on Heartstrings

Leaked audio remix

I click into the last one, curiosity burning through the center of me. It has the most likes out of any of the posts, a shiny gold star next to the topic title. When I click into it, there is no caption. Just a play button with an embedded audio file.

I raise it to my ear, hoping to listen discreetly, but sound blasts through the speaker instead.

Jackson’s voice, low and breathy, “Kiss me, Delilah. Please.”

A heavy bass line fills the background as it repeats over and over.