Page 48 of P.S. I'm Still Yours
Maybe I’m a little mad that she wasn’t around.
I mean, it’s bad enough that Kane completely ghosted us the day he boarded that plane, but Evie disappeared from our lives, too. Sure, she called us every once in a while, but it wasn’t the same as seeing her in person.
I would’ve been satisfied with just one yearly visit, but she was always too busy. I even wondered if she’d find the time to attend Gray’s funeral at one point.
Evie gestures to the first floor. “Would you like a tour of the world’s ugliest beach house?”
Mom and I chuckle.
Evie taps the purple wall. “Let me reassure you, this atrocity of a wallpaper will be gone by the end of the summer.”
She starts by showing us around the common areas, and I’m relieved to find the kitchen and dining room untouched. It’s a wonder the last owners didn’t put up purple kitchen cabinets to match the foyer.
The living room is mostly the same, too, except for the carpet. As for the downstairs bathroom, it’s covered in zebra-print wallpaper with, you guessed it, purple titles on the shower wall.
Evie suggests that we go drop our luggage in our rooms before dinner, and I’m relieved to see that mine is exactly the same as I left it.
It’s obvious the owners didn’t get around to renovating this room because they kept the old furniture—the one that came with the house after Mr. Wilder’s accident.
If anything, the room seems like it hasn’t been used in years. Crazy to think I might’ve been the last person to sleep in here.
I jog down the stairs a few minutes later and amble down the hall toward the kitchen. I scan my surroundings as though I’m afraid of running into Kane at any moment.
Chill, he’s not even here.
You would’ve seen him if he were.
Call it wishful thinking, but I’m hoping there was a last-minute change of plans and Mr. Superstar will not be joining us after all.
I’m about to walk into the kitchen when I hear Evie say, “He was supposed to get here tonight, but he had things to take care of in LA. He’s flying in tomorrow morning.”
Never mind, I guess.
“His drummer is coming with. Bless his soul. He’s going to help me keep an eye on Kane these next few months.”
His drummer?
Wait, I’m pretty sure they were celebrating his birthday the night Kane went apeshit on his manager.
His name is Oscar.
I hear a phone chime, and a few seconds later, Evie adds, “Good. Drea’s coming, too. I don’t trust this Tori girl to keep him in line for a second.”
“Who are they?” my mom asks.
“Drea’s his publicist. She’s been with him since he started. She’s like family to us.”
He’s bringing his publicist?
I’d be willing to bet the main reason she’s tagging along is to do some damage control. She’s here to salvage what’s left of his career.
“And the other girl?”
“Tori’s supposed to be his new sober sponsor. His shrink thought she might help get his drinking under control.” A sigh spills from her lips. “I don’t know where his management is finding these people, but he’s already gone through four of them in the past two weeks. Four.”
She pauses as if to get a hold of her emotions before resuming. “His drinking’s getting worse, too. He’s going to need to get his act together before the trial.”
“What trial?” Mom asks.