Falling for the Ghost of You(89)

My hungry gaze drinks in the sight of him—his familiar sexy grin, those flawless features. Finally, here in front of me, within touching distance.

His electric blue eyes look down at me, burning like dying stars in his fallen angel face.

“Happy birthday, Violet,” he says softly. His fingertips gently skim my cheek.

I am so blown away by this boy I love, I can barely manage a “thanks,” in reply.

He flashes that half smile again. “This railing’s kind of slippery.”

“Oh!”

I jump back to allow room for him to climb over. He does so easily, throwing one long leg over the railing, and turning to swing the rest of his body over. Then he’s standing in front of me, nothing between us.

“So…” I begin awkwardly, feeling incredibly shy. I tentatively reach a hand to touch his tousled hair. “Blonde, huh?”

He stills at my light touch. “Guilty,” he murmurs.

I take a deep breath, praying for courage. I have so many things I want to say to him, but now that he’s here, I don’t know how to begin.

"Aiden—"

"Zane," he corrects me fiercely, taking my hand and squeezing it. “I’m Aiden to them.” He jerks his head to the side to indicate the rest of the world.

Breathing unsteadily, I stare up at him. “What if I’m in love with both?”

He grins, holding out his arms. “Then I’m all yours.”











Epilogue



I wish I could say that we lived happily ever after, but that would have been too easy.

People took videos of Zane singing to me—of course—and they all ended up online. The very personal details of our relationship explode messily all over the internet. I am picked apart and scrutinized by every media outlet and teenage girl alive, and it is not pretty. I mean, I’m used to being insulted and gossiped about, but this is on a whole different level. Seeing pictures of me online, and on television…buying tampons at the store, checking out my rear end in the reflection of a store window, and—my favorite—being chased around the Taco Bill’s parking lot by a freaking crazy fan girl.

She was really big. You bet I ran.

Oh, and school sucks more than ever. Half the school hates me, the other half wants to be my best friend. Alissa Shermer actually tries to hang out with me. I nip that right in the bud. Stupid gossiping hag.

All this attention is mind blowing, and not in a good way. I hate it! Being an A-list celebrity's girlfriend means a girl can't eat a whole pizza without being put on"bump watch." I'm on bump watch a lot. I've learned not to go out until after I've digested.

How does Zane stand it? I'm a nobody, and the paparazzi stalk me on a daily basis. How do you deal with those pushy jackasses shoving cameras in your face, asking personal questions like they have a right to know every aspect of your life? One particular creep waits for me at work, and across the street from school every day just to ask me what my bra size is.

When I mention this to Zane, he immediately hires a couple of bodyguards to accompany me places. They act as my chaffeurs, too, which I have no problem with. I love my Bentley, but I'm forever worried something will happen to my baby. Like a jealous crazy fan girl.

I hate being in the spotlight like this. But I will put up with anything to be with Zane. I even try to tolerate (ugh!) all the obsessed fan girls. It's hard, but I'm dealing with it. I trust Zane completely now, and I'm learning to live in the moment.

Oh, I finished my secret prince book. I titled it "Secret Prince." Creative, huh? It's actually selling really well. I guess there are a lot of people out there who want that simple happy ever after. Heck, I’m just thrilled I got mine.

That's not the only good news. I've finally decided to do a deal with a major publishing house for my Breaking Time series, and I'm contracted for at least five more books. There's also talk about making them into movies! I still haven't decided if I'm ready for my writing to have that kind of exposure. Zane thinks I should go for it. I tell him I'll consider it only if he gets cast in the lead role.



July...



“Violet!”

Kim gives me a big hug. I’m surprised by how much I missed her. Her curly hair has blonde streaks in it now, and it suits her golden tan.

“You look great,” I tell her as she leads me up to her room.

“Me? Look at you! You really do look like a rock star’s girlfriend.” She laughs. “I love your hair that color.”

“It’s actually my natural one,” I say, self-consciously running a hand through it. “Oh, before I forget—Lauren said to tell you thanks again for the outfits you sent over for the baby.”