I see the headline first: Where Is Presley James? Cosmic Fury Role Up in the Air.
I scan the article, Briggs leaning in toward me doing the same. I’m reading the words as quickly as possible, trying to ignore the sinking feeling I have in my stomach. The good news is, there’s no word about where I am, no mention of the island. Which means I don’t have to worry about the photographer, whoever it was. At least not yet.
The bad news is, I have to call my agent. The bubble I’ve been living in hasn’t quite popped, but it definitely has a slow-leaking hole. My days hiding in Sunset Harbor are numbered.
I lean into Briggs for support, and he puts his arm around me, kissing me on top of the head, telling me without words that he’s here. It’s something that feels like a couple who’ve been together for a while might do: being able to say things without speaking. Briggs and I do that already, and I don’t even know what we are officially. Still, I’m overwhelmingly grateful he’s here with me right now.
“So, what’s the plan?” he asks, pointing at his phone, which I’m still holding in my hands.
“I need to make some calls,” I say, hating the words that are coming out of my mouth right now.
“Okay,” he says. “I’ll just . . . I can wait downstairs, or you can call me when you’re done?”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “Can you . . . I was hoping you could stay.”
“Of course,” he says. “My mom and Scout have the bookshop taken care of today, so I’m here as long as you need me.”
“Thank you,” I say, leaning in and kissing him softly on the lips. The fact that he’s here, that he wants to stay, eases some of the ache I’m feeling in my heart.
I get up from the couch, go to my bedroom, and grab the phone off the charger on the nightstand. The phone I haven’t been carrying with me, because what was the point? No one knows the number, and it really is a piece of junk phone. It was a safety net, something to have just in case. I hate that I have to use it today. I hate what that might mean: This could be over.
I pick up the phone and call my agent.
“How soon do you have to leave?” Briggs asks, his arm around me as we sit on the couch, his thumb rubbing a short path up and down my arm.
It’s been an hour of phone calls and feeling very drained and tired as my old life has come crashing back.
“I don’t know,” I tell him. “My agent, Kara, is getting all the details sorted right now.”
It turns out the filming date for Cosmic Fury was moved up to next month. Hence the sudden reason to find me, for people to really start worrying. Kara was told by the producers of the movie that she needed to locate me right away or they were going to recast and that I’d be in breach of contract. She thinks that info somehow was leaked to the gossip sites. I didn’t say out loud what I’d been thinking—that it was probably leaked by her, or even more likely, by my mom.
I guess it’s a good thing it was leaked because had I not seen it, I would just be staying here living my best life, having no idea what was happening behind the scenes.
I didn’t anticipate how hard this might be, having to leave. Mostly because I didn’t see it coming. I mean, I knew it was going to happen eventually, but I really thought I was going to get the entire summer before I had to go back. That feels like a foolish thought now. I, of all people, should know well that things change all the time in this industry.
I think if there weren’t a Briggs on this island, if I hadn’t spent these past few weeks with him, getting to know him, falling hard for him, that I’d just pack up and go home, no problem. I probably wouldn’t have made it even a full week here if it weren’t for Briggs.
“I hope you can stay a few more days,” he says. “Just so we can get a few more fun things in. Our last hurrah.” He nudges me with his shoulder.
See? This is what I’m talking about. I have to leave soon. My time on this island is ending, and Briggs wants to keep it going as long as possible for me. To keep giving me this amazing summer that I’m so sad is ending.
“What will we do?” I ask him, feeling all kinds of gooey, happy feelings toward this man.
“I was thinking of borrowing the boat again and maybe going fishing tomorrow?”
“Really?” I turn my head up toward him. “I’ve never done that.”
Thinking of the boat conjures up thoughts of kissing Briggs for the first time. Well, not the first time, but the first real time. Perhaps we can take a break from fishing to do more of that? Or not even bother fishing at all?
“I figured,” he says. “I’ll set it up. We could go in the afternoon after I get done working at the bookshop.”
I kiss him on the cheek before laying my head against his shoulder once more. “Sounds perfect.”
“And maybe if you want to go tubing again, we could make that happen.”
I shake my head back and forth against his shoulder. “I have a contract that will be in effect sooner than expected, so I’d better not.”
“I guess swimming with sharks is out then too?”
I snort laugh. “No way in hell am I doing that, Briggs Ernest Dalton.”
I look up, eyebrows raised, wondering if I got it this time.
“Sorry,” he says.
“You know what would cheer me up right now is you telling me your middle name.”
“How about I save it until right before you leave,” he says.
Right. I’m leaving. Good hell, maybe I should quit this job. I’m miserable right now.
I can’t quit, though. Not for a burgeoning relationship or whatever this is between Briggs and me. I love what I do, despite how much it takes over my life. Despite how little of a life it gives me. I will definitely be making some changes when these next contracts are completed.
“You know, you could come with me,” I say.
He cocks his head to the side. “Come with you where?”
