BooksBarbecue
Back Someone Had to Do It
Chapters (39)
  1. Cover
  2. Praise
  3. Dedication
  4. About the Authors
  5. PROLOGUE
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. 7
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. 10
  16. 11
  17. 12
  18. 13
  19. 14
  20. 15
  21. 16
  22. 17
  23. 18
  24. 19
  25. 20
  26. 21
  27. 22
  28. 23
  29. 24
  30. 25
  31. 26
  32. 27
  33. 28
  34. 29
  35. 30
  36. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  37. THE STORY BEHIND SOMEONE HAD TO DO IT
  38. SOMEONE HAD TO DO IT: THE PLAYLIST
  39. DISCUSSION QUESTIONS

I’m thinking I don’t want to think about this right now. I don’t want to think about Lauren. I don’t want to think about Taylor. I don’t want to think about anything that’s happened over the past few weeks. Van Doren, and everyone who works there, can kiss my ass. Nate is right. Tonight is going to be a great night with his family and I’ve already interviewed for a few intern positions for next season. True, none of them are at the assistant level, and there’s no dreamy trip to Milan included, but I’ll grind my way there eventually. I’ve climbed much steeper hills.

I choose a pair of strappy sandals and flip around once I finish buckling them on. I pose for Nate and I don’t even have to ask but decide to anyway.

“Like this one?”

“Yo, Mom loves light blue.”

He leans down for a quick kiss, but I open his mouth, give him a little more than I can tell he was expecting. I want him to know how much that meant to me, when he held me as I cried.

“Whoa, girl,” Nate says, pulling back with a chuckle. “What you trying to do?”

I blush and grab a jacket, then follow him to the front of the apartment. “Is the lasagna really that good?” I ask as he pulls the door open for me. “That’s a four-generation-long secret we’re talking.”

“Trust me, every time she makes some for the neighbors, Tupperware’s stock skyrockets like GameStop did that one time.”

“So how come you haven’t learned the recipe?”

I don’t expect him to pause and really consider the question; I was just teasing. I turn back for him and watch him ponder for a beat. Then he smiles, gently looking me over.

“Maybe she can teach you soon,” he whispers.

I blush a little because I know exactly what he’s thinking. He’s picturing me in his future, sees me becoming a permanent fixture in his life, a part of his family. He’s not just taking me to meet his parents; he’s introducing me to his inner world, letting me get a taste of what’s to come years from now. He pulls me in for a slow kiss and never in my life have I felt more wanted, more secure, like I am exactly where I am supposed to be.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Sharing the stories that haunt us at night is a privilege we don’t take lightly. But writing a book takes more than blood, sweat, tears and frequently accumulating a horrifying internet search history. None of this would be possible without the gang who made this dream a reality for us, so pardon us while we get mushy.