Risking the Crown (The Crown 2)

“Can you believe this shit? I have to go into work on my only

day off,” I seethed as I pulled onto the interstate.

My high rise was one of the buildings along the downtown perimeter. It usually took at least twenty minutes to make it to the station.

“Oh, that sucks. I can talk for a few minutes. My boss just went to lunch.”

“Oh good. I kind of need to ask you something.” I was more nervous than I thought she should be.

“Of course. What’s going on? You ok?” Emily asked.

They were there, right on the brim of my eyelids—heavy, salty tears. Hearing Emily’s voice broke down the last resistance I had.

“I. Can’t. Talk. About. It.” I steered the car toward the nearest exit. Even in my emotional state, I knew I had to get off the interstate or I would be one of the serial wrecks that Ray told me about.

“Where are you? You sound terrible,” Emily pressed.

I parked at the nearest gas station and dabbed at my eyes with a tissue. My eye makeup was completely ruined. “I just pulled over at a gas station. Oh my God, what’s wrong with me? I’m supposed to be headed in to cover a story.”

“Can you take a few deep breaths?” Emily suggested.

I clutched the steering wheel. “Ok. I can talk again.” I had steadied my breathing.

“Can you tell me about it?”

“No matter what I do, it doesn’t matter what it is. I mean I try, and I don’t talk about it, and I don’t think about it and then—boom—it’s everywhere.”

Emily sounded confused. “Girl, I am not following.”

I exhaled. “Blake. It’s Blake. He’s everywhere. And he’s not supposed to be. I’m in Texas, damn it. I’m as far away from the freakin’ water and his songs, cruises, and sparkly eyes as I can get. He should not be here in my head.”

My chest tightened. “I shouldn’t be feeling this, right? He was a complete ass. He has no patience.” The tears started again. “I mean, do you know how many white trucks there are in Texas? They are everywhere.”

“Oh.” Emily grew quiet. “You haven’t mentioned Blake one time in the past month—not once. I don’t even know how you left things on your last day on the island.”

“Why am I even talking about it now? See? He’s in my head. I’ve lost it. And he should not be in my head. No. I’ve got to get him out.”

“I’m surprised it took you this long to figure it out.” She giggled.

“What?”

“And I think you have this all wrong; he’s not just in your head.”

“This is not funny. I’m miserable,” I whined.

“I’m sorry. Oh, my boss is coming back. I have to go. Can we talk later? I’m going into a meeting, and then we have a press conference. I’ll call you when I’m done.”

“Right. Work. I understand.” I needed to do the same thing.

“So, you, me, and a bottle of wine over the phone after my press conference, ok?”

I smiled. “Absolutely. Thanks. Bye.”

“No problem. Bye.”

I ended the call from my steering wheel, and adjusted my rearview mirror to get a better look at the damage the crying had done to my mascara. Damn it.

I still had ten minutes of road ahead of me before making it to the station. Plenty of time to pull myself together. It felt good to release the breath I had been holding for what seemed like a month.