Page 56 of Over the Limit

I should feel bad for him. For his complete lack of awareness when it comes to Blair. But I don’t. He’s the one who’s in the wrong. I don’t pretend to know the entire truth behind the two of them—clearly it takes two to be in a relationship—but I know the man showed such little regard for her, that she broke up with him.

Does he still think she’ll come back to him? Does he even care if she does? I’m thinking no to both questions, but then again, I have some serious skin in the game.

Or I will.

After twenty-one days.

It’s then I’ll know what Blair decides. It’s then, hopefully, I’ll have a contract signed and not have to worry about any blowback when it comes to my career.

Do I talk to Johann about it? Give him a heads-up?

Do I ask my father for advice on this?

No.

This is about me. My personal life. I’m allowed to live it as I want. And fuck does that feel weird—and gratifying—to think.

The thoughts will keep coming over the next three weeks. I know they will. More doubt. More questions. More fucking everything. But they don’t matter.

None of them do.

She does.

Stepping into her fire is a foregone conclusion. All I can hope is that the world doesn’t burn down around me when I do.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Blair

“Bee! How’s my girl?”

I close my eyes and sink into the sound of my father’s voice and the comfort of a nickname he’s called me forever. “Dad. Hi. It’s so good to hear your voice.”

“Everything okay?” Concern floods his tone and has me slouching on my stool. Why did I think he wouldn’t notice when he’s the most astute person I know?

“Of course it is,” I lie. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Because you haven’t called me like you usually do to regale me with all the funny stories from behind the scenes.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“With the masquerade ball? Or with . . . other things?”

“All of the above.”

“Want to talk about it?” he asks, treading lightly.

Yes. No. I don’t know.

“The ball is a shitshow. The previous planner had good intentions but wasn’t great at follow-through. So there are a lot of ideas but just no implementation.”

“But Mom says you got that girl with two first names to perform for free. That’s good, right?”

“Tori Michelle?” I laugh. Leave it to my dad to try and stay hip on popular culture but not completely make the connection. “Yes. We signed the contract for her appearance yesterday.”

“I mean, that’s huge. Or at least the girls say so,” he says of the pop-loving twins. “You know me.”

“I know. If it isn’t classic rock, it doesn’t matter.”