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We hug.
“Good luck,” I say, because I don’t know what you say to a music star.
“You too. And thank you for everything.”
Then she turns to Bryce. “Walk with me.”
He nods, and the two of them walk away toward the black SUV with the tainted windows waiting for her down the street, one bodyguard in front and two trailing behind them.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Nina
Bryce is uncharacteristically quiet as we walk toward the car.
“I’m glad Amelia told you the truth,” I say. “I would have felt bad leaving without saying goodbye.”
“I’m still having a hard time wrapping my head around it.”
I can tell that he’s pensive.
“I came to the concert to ask you—or rather, Nina—for your phone number. But I’m not sure how to act with Georgina.”
We stop in front of the car and my stomach drops with disappointment.
“It’s just a costume.” I turn to face him. “It doesn’t change the person I am underneath.”
Bryce looks me up and down, and goosebumps break out all over my skin. I’m vain enough that I hope he likes what he sees while simultaneously hoping that he likes “Nina” better.
“It changes who you are a little. There’s a huge part of your life that you completely left out of our conversations. Maybe the most important part.” He sighs. “You’ll never be able to walk around Dogwood Grove in peace again.”
I know. “Which is why I’m leaving so soon.”
He just nods, looking even more grim.
“I would hug you,” I say, “but one photo of Georgina hugging a mystery man could turn your entire life upside down.”
“That’s a sad way to live if that’s what goes through your mind every time you want to get closer to somebody.”
“You have no idea. The men who want to get close to me now are mostly leeches, hoping to use my fame for their own gains. Give me your phone.”
I reach out.
Bryce takes his phone out of his back pocket, unlocks it, and hands it to me.
I smile at the picture on his screen of his vizsla, Rusty, who he showed me pictures of when we talked earlier today. It feels like a lifetime ago now.
I find the contact app and add my number under Nina.
“It gets lonely being surrounded by people I can’t trust,” I say, handing him back the phone. “So if you want to call me, I’d be happy to chat. But you don’t have to if this is too weird for you.”
He looks down at his phone. Then he calls my number, let’s it ring for a few seconds, then hangs up. “And you feel free to call me any time that you’re lonely. Or even when you just want to force me to listen to a song.”
I smile. “Alright. Thanks for making me feel like a normal person these last few days.”
“Anytime.”
And he looks like he means it, that I can really call him any time I want to feel like Nina again.
