Finding Him (Covet 2)

Thank. God.

I didn’t recognize the number, but took it as a sign from the universe and quickly said, “Hello?”

“Keaton?” The feminine voice sounded familiar. “Keaton Westbrook?”

Great, another fan found my number. I was going to have to change it again. “Yeah, that’s me,” I said with fake excitement.

“Oh, good! Your publicist said this was the right one, but I wasn’t sure since she said you’ve had to change your number so many times. Anyways, I was calling to see if you’d like to go to the surprise party.”

“Surprise party,” I repeated like a parrot. “I’m sorry, who is this?”

“Oh God, I’m such an idiot. In my head I already told you. Ugh, pregnancy brain. This is Izzy Tennyson.”

My mouth went completely dry. “Oh, h-hey there.” I gulped and squeezed my eyes shut.

She laughed. “So the party is next Friday, they rented out the entire Met for Bridge and Julian’s birthday. It’s going to be incredible, and neither of them knows it’s happening, mainly because they’d both bail and get drunk in a closet somewhere rather than show up, and we can’t have that. Please say you’ll come!”

“Um . . .”

“It would mean a lot to Julian,” she said softly, apparently pulling out the big guns. “He was forced to take some time off, you know . . . at least three weeks. He’s going to be a grumpy bear, and it might be nice to have someone he likes there so he doesn’t scare everyone away.”

“He has you.” I said it without thinking.

She was silent and then, “Hard to believe, since we were friends first, but I’m not Julian’s favorite person, and I refuse to force forgiveness where it’s not earned. I deserve it, I made the choice, not Bridge, not Julian, but me. When love finds you, true love, it doesn’t give you the chance to say no, and you realize that you would rather suffer the rest of your life with your decisions than suffer without it.”

I sighed. Well, when she put it that way. “I’ll be there.”

“Great!” I could practically feel her beaming through the phone. “I’ll get the rest of the details over to your publicist. It’s a gala, so obviously wear a gown. If you want to know the designers that are helping sponsor the event, I can let you know so you can wear one of their pieces, or wear whatever you want, but I know since it’s you they’d jump at the opportunity to dress you.”

I smiled at that. “How about you pair me up with the designer who needs the publicity the most?”

She was silent.

I waited.

“Izzy?”

She sniffed. “Sorry, I’m so hormonal. That’s really sweet, I knew I liked you. You’re perfect for him.”

I didn’t know what to say, so I just said, “Thank you. I’ll see you next week.”

“Can’t wait!”

She hung up.

And I stared at my computer and quickly wrote down what I was thinking.

Noah was my first love.

He was someone who made me think about the world differently.

Noah was my world.

Cancer consumed him the way he consumed me.

After our first date, we were inseparable. He entertained me with stories about his childhood, and the second day we were together, he told me he was going to kiss me.

His kiss felt unlike any kiss I’d ever had.

Until two days ago, when Julian Tennyson kissed me and stole the only fragment of my still-beating heart.

Love doesn’t always end with death. Sometimes, that’s where it takes root.

I was happy with what I had written, but a part of me was still conflicted, like I was writing a story that should be written with Julian. It was ridiculous. I snapped a picture and posted to Instagram, knowing that my fans would be excited. I was just about to close out the app when I noticed several hundred new comments on one of my last posts.

It was a picture of me sitting by myself smiling into a cup of coffee. The caption talked about moving on with life even though it’s difficult.

The comments, however, were scathing.

It seemed everyone was there for me when Noah was struggling, but even hinting at moving on had set people off. Comments about cheating, and it being too soon, and calling me a whore.

My stomach dropped.

I quickly set my phone down and tried to suck in some air. Why hadn’t my team told me about this?

I felt nauseated as I paced the apartment. It was like going through Noah’s struggle all over again as panic seized my lungs. I started hyperventilating and quickly moved to the kitchen to grab a paper bag.

I tried breathing into it so I wouldn’t pass out, then went in search of the Xanax my doctor had prescribed for my panic attacks.

They’d started when we were told Noah’s treatments weren’t working.

I’d had a horrible nightmare that he’d died in my arms while we were sleeping and that I never got to say goodbye.