Fly With Me | ✓

23

"Please recommend any and all bookstores, Everleigh." Margaret laughed. "It's important."

"Transreal Fiction is the one in Edinburgh," Everleigh said.

"Can you both stop flirting with my—" Esmé smashed her hand into Maverick's face and cut him off. "Ow! You're such a shit—"

"You're a shit for waking your girlfriend up—"

Everleigh fought a smile. She liked the sound of that—how mushy. "Do you have a favourite city, Mags?"

"Anywhere these two aren't wrestling near my books!" Margaret looked pointedly at her kids—who were on the floor looking like six-year-olds. Esmé still appeared to be winning. "Honestly, you two are we talking to Everleigh or hosting the WWE?"

Esmé put her finger in her mouth and stuck it in Maverick's ear. Everleigh didn't even want to know where his hearing aid had gone. Maverick shoved her arm and rolled away from her, pressing his hand to his ear. "Did you just fuckin' wet willy me—"

Esmé laughed and scrambled to her feet, running to be near her mother. "Bitch."

"Such an ass, E."

By the time Maverick had made his way over to the phone, his other hearing aid was back in. He sat next to Margaret on the couch, Esmé leaning on the back; both of them a little more than dishevelled.

"Ignoring that my children don't know how to behave—"

"We're not kids, ma," Esmé said.

"You're acting like kids, E."

"Touché," Maverick said.

"The point of this call was to meet Everleigh because Mav wanted us to."

"I wanted to call because I didn't believe she was real," Esmé said.

"You've talked to her before," Maverick said.

Esmé waved her hand as she typed on her phone. "They don't even follow each other on Instagram."

"I follow Everleigh on Instagram," Maverick said.

Everleigh stifled a small laugh. "Sorry."

"Little Brit, will you follow me back before you follow Mav?" Esmé asked. "I just requested to follow you."

"Next time I steal your phone, I'm following myself," Maverick mumbled a little louder than he'd likely intended to.

"You're so lame," Esmé said.

"I've been trying to stay off Instagram," Everleigh said. "Mostly."

It was half true. Having Maverick and Stevie follow her meant every time she logged on, there were thousands more people trying to see into her life. After New York and her terrible comment to wherever those paparazzi were from, there were tens of thousands of people trying to follow her. Without sounding like a complete arse, Everleigh wasn't sure if she could even find Esmé's request to potentially accept it. She didn't even like sharing the photos of which airport she was in anymore. It didn't feel as fun. Following Maverick back would be confirmation of everything she'd denied in New York. Telling her friends and family was more important than telling the world, and Maverick had clearly beaten her to the punch. (Roman didn't count.) (Roman, while annoying, also wouldn't snitch on them.)