house.
Everything’s so calm and peaceful, until Dylan clicks on the television.
The first thing we see is footage of me from Saturday, running with the bridal gown box. The late-night show host laughs as they play the shot of me swinging at the photographers.
“Seriously?!” I yell at the TV. “It’s been two days. Haven’t they found someone else’s life to ruin since then?”
Dylan hits the button to rewind the footage. He presses pause and steps in close to the screen.
“Is that him?” His voice is shaking with anger. “That guy in the hat. He took the dress.” He punches his fist into his palm.
I cover my face with my hands. I can’t look at these images anymore. They make me want to crawl under the house and die.
Dylan growls, “That guy is dead when I get my hands on him.”
“No, don’t. An assault charge isn’t going to help.” I sit up higher on the couch, as though that’ll help him hear me better. “Retaliation will just make it worse. And we can’t give them any more reasons to hound us.”
“They can’t stop themselves, so I’ll have to.” Dylan’s fists are squeezed tight and his veins bulge up his arms.
“What if they already know about the wedding?” My voice is rising higher and higher with my panic. “Nan will be here. They always push and shove. They can’t do that to my grandmother.” My voice is a squeak now. “If they do anything that hurts her, I—”
Dylan sits next to me. He’s tense, but trying to be calm for me. He takes my hands in his. “She’ll be safe. I’ll make sure.”
He brings my fingers to his lips and lightly kisses them. “I know you’re worried. I wish I could make you not worry. You know what we should do? Go away for a bit. A holiday.”
“A holiday? But I’ve got too much to do.” I sigh and lean into him. He holds me while I run my fingers down his chest and abs.
“We’re both overworked,” he says. “I’ve got recording sessions next week.”
I nuzzle in closer. “No holiday for us.” I reach for the remote control and click off the television. “But if you could blink your eyes and take us anywhere in the world, where would we go?”
He chuckles, his voice a comforting rumble in his chest.
“That’s easy. Rome.”
I pull away and give him a suspicious look. “Did my boss tell you to say that? Chet’s been trying to get me there for Morris work.”
“I swear, Rome just popped into my head. I went there after college. A bunch of friends and I travelled all around Europe. Backpacks and hostels, and too much to drink.” He chuckles at the memories. “Rome was definitely my favorite.”
“Lucky guy.” I sigh. “Must have been nice being a rich kid.”
He snorts. We always tease each other about having different backgrounds.
He replies, “Must have been nice being a country kid. With a prize steer named Howard.”
I poke him in the side. “His name was Henry, not Howard. C’mon. Know your Jess Rivera trivia.” I try to tickle him, but he won’t crack.
He grabs my hands and turns me around so my back’s resting against his chest. He wraps his arms around me and squeezes me.
“Python attack,” he murmurs.
I go limp in his arms and pretend to be dead. He chuckles and relaxes his arms.
We stay cuddled up together on the couch. I could let him hold me like this forever, or at least five more minutes.
Dylan asks, “Why did Chet ask you to go Rome?”
I tell him about the new Morris Music European distribution partner and how Chet wants me to help them. Dylan listens patiently, even as I get deeper into technical details. He’s quiet, like when he’s thinking of a new song. In fact, I’m pretty sure he’s ignoring me and thinking about song lyrics.
I’m resting the back of my head on his shoulder and can’t see his face. His chest is rising and falling steadily.
“Dylan? Did I put you to sleep?”
“Not at all. But… you should go to Rome.”
“But I have to get everything ready for
Everything’s so calm and peaceful, until Dylan clicks on the television.
The first thing we see is footage of me from Saturday, running with the bridal gown box. The late-night show host laughs as they play the shot of me swinging at the photographers.
“Seriously?!” I yell at the TV. “It’s been two days. Haven’t they found someone else’s life to ruin since then?”
Dylan hits the button to rewind the footage. He presses pause and steps in close to the screen.
“Is that him?” His voice is shaking with anger. “That guy in the hat. He took the dress.” He punches his fist into his palm.
I cover my face with my hands. I can’t look at these images anymore. They make me want to crawl under the house and die.
Dylan growls, “That guy is dead when I get my hands on him.”
“No, don’t. An assault charge isn’t going to help.” I sit up higher on the couch, as though that’ll help him hear me better. “Retaliation will just make it worse. And we can’t give them any more reasons to hound us.”
“They can’t stop themselves, so I’ll have to.” Dylan’s fists are squeezed tight and his veins bulge up his arms.
“What if they already know about the wedding?” My voice is rising higher and higher with my panic. “Nan will be here. They always push and shove. They can’t do that to my grandmother.” My voice is a squeak now. “If they do anything that hurts her, I—”
Dylan sits next to me. He’s tense, but trying to be calm for me. He takes my hands in his. “She’ll be safe. I’ll make sure.”
He brings my fingers to his lips and lightly kisses them. “I know you’re worried. I wish I could make you not worry. You know what we should do? Go away for a bit. A holiday.”
“A holiday? But I’ve got too much to do.” I sigh and lean into him. He holds me while I run my fingers down his chest and abs.
“We’re both overworked,” he says. “I’ve got recording sessions next week.”
I nuzzle in closer. “No holiday for us.” I reach for the remote control and click off the television. “But if you could blink your eyes and take us anywhere in the world, where would we go?”
He chuckles, his voice a comforting rumble in his chest.
“That’s easy. Rome.”
I pull away and give him a suspicious look. “Did my boss tell you to say that? Chet’s been trying to get me there for Morris work.”
“I swear, Rome just popped into my head. I went there after college. A bunch of friends and I travelled all around Europe. Backpacks and hostels, and too much to drink.” He chuckles at the memories. “Rome was definitely my favorite.”
“Lucky guy.” I sigh. “Must have been nice being a rich kid.”
He snorts. We always tease each other about having different backgrounds.
He replies, “Must have been nice being a country kid. With a prize steer named Howard.”
I poke him in the side. “His name was Henry, not Howard. C’mon. Know your Jess Rivera trivia.” I try to tickle him, but he won’t crack.
He grabs my hands and turns me around so my back’s resting against his chest. He wraps his arms around me and squeezes me.
“Python attack,” he murmurs.
I go limp in his arms and pretend to be dead. He chuckles and relaxes his arms.
We stay cuddled up together on the couch. I could let him hold me like this forever, or at least five more minutes.
Dylan asks, “Why did Chet ask you to go Rome?”
I tell him about the new Morris Music European distribution partner and how Chet wants me to help them. Dylan listens patiently, even as I get deeper into technical details. He’s quiet, like when he’s thinking of a new song. In fact, I’m pretty sure he’s ignoring me and thinking about song lyrics.
I’m resting the back of my head on his shoulder and can’t see his face. His chest is rising and falling steadily.
“Dylan? Did I put you to sleep?”
“Not at all. But… you should go to Rome.”
“But I have to get everything ready for
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