Chapter 6
six
Josh
“Hold on,” I say, snatching the remote out of Kate’s hand and pausing the movie. “What the hell is that guy’s problem? He’s insinuating that he still wants to fuck her while he’s engaged to another woman?”
“Oh, honey,” she says, tapping my thigh. “We’re only nine minutes in.”
“I hope he gets what’s coming to him,” I grumble, already angry on Kate Winslet’s behalf.
“Anyone who makes that woman cry deserves to stub their pinky toe on every piece of furniture they walk by for the rest of their life.” She snorts a laugh next to me and once again, it makes me smile.
That goddamn laugh. It’s intoxicating. A shot of serotonin straight to my brain.
“Ugh, not Cameron Diaz, too,” I groan. “Men are idiots. It’s amazing that any of you want to have anything to do with us.” Kate chuckles and settles deeper into her stack of pillows.
I don’t know why I agreed to this. Well yes, I do—she challenged me, and I never back down from a challenge.
Also, Kate’s cool as hell and I like hanging out with her.
I settle in, fully prepared to spend the next two hours rolling my eyes at this ridiculous, over-the-top, love-conquers-all nonsense.
I’ve already predicted exactly how it’s going to end— something will stand in the way of what each of these two couples want, throw in some life-altering realizations, and bam—happily ever after.
It’s unrealistic. It’s cheesy. It’s…okay, the old guy teaching Kate Winslet’s character to see her own worth is kind of sweet.
Every few minutes, I can feel Kate’s gaze slide to me, probably checking to see if I’m still paying attention, and even though I probably should, I can’t fake boredom now.
I’m fucking invested. By the time Jack Black is writing Kate Winslet a stupid little theme song, even I have to admit that the way he looks at her like he can’t believe someone like her exists is kind of charming.
And then Jude Law goes all in confessing his feelings and damn it, I feel something.
“Oh my god,” I whisper. “She’s crying! Kate! She’s—”
I look over to find her sound asleep beside me. The glow of the TV flickers over her face, and for a second, I remember what it’s like to fall in love. To believe in this shit. To be blissfully and stupidly happy.
Then, just as quickly, I remember the pain and how rapidly things can go from bad to worse.
From a few disagreements to all-out war.
From buying furniture together to an empty house.
From “’til death do us part” and “I do” to your heart shattering into a million pieces as you sign the papers in a stuffy lawyer’s office.
I reach over and slide Kate’s glasses from her face, folding them and setting them on the nightstand on her side of the bed before turning the TV off and heading to my room.
I can’t believe I got sucked into that movie. That I fell for it hook, line, and sinker.
I know better than anyone that love isn’t real. It’s just a concept people cling to. An illusion wrapped in fairy tales and sold through movie scripts.
I’ve seen it fall apart too many times to believe in it anymore.
Half the people I know have loved and lost and walked away with nothing but regrets—Eric, me, my parents.
Love is great when it’s new and easy, but when it gets hard, when things really start to crack, people don’t fight for it.
They run. They find excuses for why it wasn’t meant to be, why it wasn’t their fault, why it’s “better this way.”
They call it fate, bad timing, or irreconcilable differences—anything to avoid admitting the truth. Love isn’t some unbreakable force. It’s fragile, temporary, and when it shatters, the pieces that are left behind can never be put back together.
Atlanta is a quick four-hour drive from Nashville, and now that we’re checked out of the hotels and on the RVs, it means we’re officially entering the worst part of this leg of the tour—two straight weeks on the road with no hotel stops.
Just travel, do a show, then back on the RV to do it all again.
Two. Weeks.
I know I should be grateful—I get to travel the world playing music, and believe me, I am—but let’s be real. Living in a glorified tin can for half a month is…a lot. It’s fast food and five-minute showers and too much time alone with my thoughts.
We’re an hour into the drive and I am already unbelievably bored.
The kind of bored where even my phone isn’t interesting anymore.
I’ve scrolled through every social media app twice, opened and closed my texts like something exciting might magically appear, and even considered reading the nutrition label on this bag of chips I have in my lap for a change of pace.
The RV hums along the highway, the same monotonous sound, the same slightly bumpy ride, the same walls I’ll be staring at for the next fourteen days.
I could nap, but I’m not tired. I could write, but my brain is a useless lump right now.
I could—oh, interesting, the nutrition facts say there’s twelve percent of my daily sodium per serving.
Considering I’ve almost downed the entire bag, I should probably stop.
I’ll be bloated as fuck for the show tonight if I don’t.
God, I need a distraction. A person. A text. Something entertaining.
Kate would be entertaining right now. She’s probably on the other RV, doing something responsible like answering my emails or making a spreadsheet about something completely unnecessary.
Maybe I’ll text her. Maybe I won’t. Maybe I should just accept my fate and die of boredom right here on this couch.
I force myself to get up and do something. Rolling the top of the chip bag down and clipping it shut, I set it back into the cupboard above the sink that is currently full of dirty dishes.
Plugging the drain, I turn on the tap and watch as the sink slowly begins to fill with water.
I reach for the dish soap, but notice it’s empty, so I crouch down and open the cabinet under the sink to see if I have a spare.
I don’t, so I shut the water off, pull the plug, and grab my phone to fire off a text to Kate asking her to add another bottle of soap to the list.
When I unlock my phone, I see a text from Max with a TikTok video, so I tap it. It’s a compilation of people with crazy sneezes, and it’s so funny that I watch it twice before swiping up to watch another one.
A few videos later, I get to one containing a recipe for a cocktail that sounds fucking delicious, so I scan the alcohol cupboard to see if I have everything I need, grinning when I realize I do.
I start the video over, mix it up, and damn, it’s good. Might be my new favorite. I screenshot the caption which contains the ingredients so I can make it again later and pocket my phone.
I turn to put the shaker into the sink and groan when I realize that it’s full of dirty dishes. I reach for the soap and—
Shit, the soap. I need to text Kate.
As if she could sense my thoughts drifting to her, my phone vibrates in my pocket with a text.
Kate: Permission to post the “no boobs” statement to your IG stories?
Josh: Oof, is it bad?
Kate: You’re lucky I like you.
I chuckle. She’s right, I am lucky she likes me. This tour would be a hell of a lot less fun without her around.
Josh: Anyway. What’s up? You miss me?
Kate: I’m actually enjoying the peace and quiet.
Josh: Just say you miss me, Kate. It’s okay. It’s natural. I have
that effect on people.
Kate: Miss you? Hmm…
I grin as the bubble comes and goes in the corner of the screen a few times as she types out her reply.
Kate: I miss watching you forget to put on pants before leaving for a
radio interview. Does that count?
Josh: THAT WAS ONE TIME!
I last about ten minutes before boredom wins out and I text her again.
Josh: Let’s watch one of those stupid movies you love so much.
Kate: How? We’re not even in the same place.
Josh: Pick one and tell me where it’s streaming. We’ll start it at the same time.
Kate: Wow, you must really be bored.
I grab a bottle of water out of the fridge and head back to the bedroom. If I’m going to subject myself to more of this rom-com nonsense, I’m going to at least be comfortable while I do it.
Kate: How To Lose a Guy in Ten Days is on HBO Max.
I turn on the TV, fire up the app, and find the movie.
Josh: Ready when you are.
Kate: Go!
Josh: 10 days? Really?
Kate: Need I remind you that this was your idea?
Josh: Fine, I’ll stop.
So, out of the millions of people in New York City, these two just happen to enter into a relationship with completely opposite goals? That would never happen, but hey, it’s a rom-com.
Josh: Okay, pause. If you had to make someone fall for you in ten days, how would you do it?
I’m genuinely curious about her answer because she doesn’t strike me as the type to play games or pretend to be someone she isn’t just to make a relationship work.
Kate: Well, I guess I’d start by showing off my sweet Excel skills. Lady in the streets but a freak in the (spread)sheets.
I laugh. She added a winking emoji to the text, but she didn’t need to. I can hear her playful tone like she’s right here next to me.
Kate: But honestly? I’d just focus on being authentic, showing I care, and keeping things fun. No need for any of that fake personality or mind games stuff.
Kate: I’ve done that before…tried to be who I thought they wanted. It (shockingly) didn’t work out.
Kate: I’ve vowed to never do it again.
I smile at my screen, loving that I was right. That I already know her this well. She’s no bullshit. A take-it-or-leave-it, what-you-see-is-what-you-get kind of girl.
We spend the rest of the drive to Atlanta texting and watching this ridiculous movie, and I realize that, much like it was last night, my mind is quiet.
As much as these types of movies should annoy me, there’s something about them that forces my brain to shut up for once. There is no overthinking, no spiraling thoughts—just mindless entertainment and Kate’s presence keeping me centered.