I look over my shoulder and hold my head up. “I’m ready.”
I risk a glance at Ted. Surprisingly, he looks proud and also a little awkward.
“That’s it. Hold your head there and smile. Lovely. Now, tilt your head down. Okay, slightly arch your back, put your hands behind you, and twist to the left.”
I know I’ve got side-boob action going on, but I don’t care. I follow Derek’s instructions and pose how he’s asked.
You like this. You fucking like it!
“Beautiful! Tip your head back and to the right—there! Hold that. Perfect. Stunning, Texas.”
I want to hire him to follow me around and give me compliments all day because the man is amazing for self-esteem.
He lowers his camera. “Well, that was incredible. Would you like to dress and have a couple taken with your mum?”
The lady from Vogue gasps. “That would be wonderful! Jennifer?”
Mum smiles. “A mother-daughter article?”
She looks at me for my permission, and I shrug in a yes.
“Let’s do it. Where do you want us, Derek?”
Once we’re finished, we look back over the photos. They’re amazing. Really amazing. I love them all so much. The ones of me and mum are awesome. We did a few serious and some funny ones where we’re pulling faces. The individual ones has the Vogue lady—seriously no one has said her name and too long has passed for me to ask her—squealing and calling her boss. I end up answering a few questions, so we can do a joint interview.
I’m not even thinking about Dad’s reaction because I’m on a high.
We get in the car, and Jennifer tells the driver to go to a cocktail bar because we’re celebrating. I finally feel like I’m becoming me, and I won’t give that up. It feels too good.
KITT
TUESDAY, JULY 28
DALLAS, TEXAS
I’m so ready for a break. I’ve loved every second of the tour so far—almost—but every bone in my body aches, and my heart is in shreds. I need to get back to my girl. The two weeks we have off before Australia and New Zealand have never been more welcomed.
I can’t wait to get back out there and show our waiting fans what we’ve got, but we all need some R&R first. We’d burn out otherwise.
From now on, we’ll be spreading tours out because I need more time with Texas. We’re like passing ships in the night. The odd text here and there is all we’ve managed.
She’s angry with me. So am I.
You’re also angry with her.
Tex has more free time than I do, but she still only manages to text me in the morning or last thing at night. It’s not all her fault, but we both need and deserve more.
We’ve been apart for six weeks, and it doesn’t work. I can’t do long distance with her. She’s the other half of my fucking soul. What I’m feeling, I know she is, too. I can’t walk around, feeling like I’m constantly lost, any longer.
So, as soon as we hit home turf, I’m demanding she gives us another chance. Not that she’s told me we’re over, but I know that’s what’s in her heart. I feel it in every text message. I hear it in her tone the few times she’s left a voice mail. There’s nothing emotional about any part of us, and I don’t know why.
How can a month change something so permanent?
It’s fixable. I know that. We need to get back on the same page and find a way of making time for each other. Neither of us has done long distance before, so this is a learning curve and a steep one. Now, we know what not to do.
It’s now Tuesday, and we’re flying home on Thursday. Tomorrow is the last show here in America.
I tap Tex’s number and hold my breath.
“Hello?” she says on the fifth ring.
I close my eyes, and my dick hardens. “Hey, babe. Fuck, it’s good to hear your voice.”
“Yours, too. How’s it going?”
“Last one tomorrow, and then I’ll be home to you. I’ve missed you so much.”
“Missed you, too.” Her voice is shallow and lacking anything that makes me believe her words.
“Tex, are you okay?”
“Mmhmm.”
I suck in a breath. “You’re done, aren’t you?”
Why the fuck did you say that? There’s nothing you can do until you’re back, so why are you goading her to say it? Three days, and you’ll be in front of her and be able to fix whatever’s wrong. You didn’t have to make it fucking official!
“Kitt…”
“No, fuck, come on.” I pace my room and grab the whiskey off the side table as I go. “I know things have been hard, and I’ve not called nearly as much as I wanted, but, Jesus, Texas, give it a bit more time. It’s like you don’t even want to make it work. Don’t give up on us. I’ll be back soon, and we’ll sort this out.”
I hear her breathless sobs down the other end, and it catapults me into darkness.
“Texas,” I rasp, “tell me it’s not over. Now.”