Dear Rory,
I'm sorry about what I said.
I'm leaving for LA in two days.
Can we talk before then, please?
We can just drive around as usual.
I don't know how to do this if
you're upset with me.
Call me please. I'm staying at my
parents' house...
Hey lovers! I'm in London! Time to imagine that London Boy was written about me. LMAO
anyway I've made you wait enough since that cliffhanger (no i havent psht I'm just that generous)
Love yall!!! enjoy<3
———
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Dear Rory, If you would have told me 5 years ago that I'd be on a stage performing with Madonna, I would have called you a liar. And yet that's exactly what we did tonight. I want to scream. Can I scream? I'm going to scream. Love, Taylor
———
"So, I guess the secret's out, huh?" Cas asks while making a cup of coffee for me in our kitchen.
"Yeah... I guess so," I mutter, rubbing my cheek with my hand. I'm still trying to process it. "It's not like I was hiding it well, anyway."
"I mean... it was more of a Clark Kent as Superman kind of secret than a Peter Parker as Spiderman one. Or— Tony Stark as Iron Man, honestly," Cas chuckles, sliding a steaming hot mug my way. "You okay, though?"
"Yeah, yeah... I think so. I'm just trying to wrap my head around it," I sigh, wrapping my hands around the mug. "Thanks."
"Mhm. Come to the store with me. Distract yourself a little," they suggest but I shake my head, holding it in my hands.
"Cas... my next book's coming out under Emily Lucas. But now everyone knows it's me. Do I have to change that now?"
Cas shakes their head. "Not unless you want that. I mean, lots of authors wrote under a pseudonym even when people knew their identity."
"I think I should probably talk to Rebecca about this," I mutter, taking a sip of coffee.
"You do that," Cas murmurs and leaves a kiss on the top of my head. "I have to get to the store. Do you need anything, babe?"
I simply shake my head no, opening my phone to call Beck.
"Alrighty, then. I'm taking Zorro with me today," they tell me, picking up their keys from the table. "I'll see you tonight?"
I nod, waving at them as they walk out.
When I call Rebecca, she answers almost immediately.
"This is bad... Isn't it?" I ask her.
"Uhhh... From a personal perspective, maybe. That's up to you," she tells me. "Your popularity has only increased, though. Actually, everyone online is talking about you and the books. First of all, that just means great things for the movie. And the new book that's coming out— everyone's gonna wanna read it."
I let out a heavy sigh, put the call on speaker, and lay my cheek on the cold surface of the kitchen table.
"Yeah, but, Beck... Emily Lucas is now dead. Like, what do we do now? Do we still release Postcards From Italy under Emily Lucas or not now that everyone knows it's me?"
