The white linen skirt I’m wearing scrunches up around my thighs as to not get it wet while I make a call. “Hey, I was just calling to let you know that I have tickets reserved for you at every show. I know it’s not exactly your scene, but if you’re in the mood to stop by…” I trail off. The voicemail sounds ridiculous.
It’s now been over a year since I’ve talked to my grandparents. They don’t come to my concerts, but maybe this is the olive branch we need to move on. I mean, I’d like to. There’s a part of me that thinks that after a show, looking at my grandmother’s eyes, the ones so much like Dad’s, I’d know a fraction of what it would be like to have him there. That through some cosmic magic, it would give me closure on the promise Wes and I made to him all those years ago.
I hate begging, but I do it for my eighteen-year-old self who never got to share this world with him. I did everything for her. Recorded songs I hated, but were guaranteed to be chart-toppers before they faded into obscurity. Attended parties with people who said they wanted to be my friends, but really just wanted to be seen with me. Offering this olive branch to my grandparents is just one more thing to add to the list.
I listen to the recording and delete it before starting over. “Hey, I hope you’re doing well. I don’t know if you remember but the tour is starting tomorrow, and I have tickets for you. I’ve sent your assistants the schedule—”
“What are you doing?” Wes interrupts my best take yet as he walks up to me with a glass of water in one hand. He’s aglow with the low hanging sun at his back.
“Just leaving a message for my grandparents.”
He reaches down and grabs my phone. Unprepared, I let him.
Keeping an eye on me, he takes a step away, holding the phone to his mouth. “Hey! Ivy. Nolan. It’s been a minute. It seems like you might have forgotten, but your granddaughter is one of the greatest musicians of our generation. If you don’t show up, you’re missing out.” He’s grinning wide, and I know he means every word.
“You can’t send that,” I protest, but don’t mean it. Really, it’s what I want to say but don’t know how to without sounding vain and childish.
He releases a breath. “I already did.” With one hand braced on the ground, he lowers himself to sit next to me. After taking a second to cuff his jeans and roll them up to his calves, he puts his feet into the heated pool. In addition to the jeans, he’s wearing an unbuttoned linen shirt that gives me a clear view of his chest. I can’t stop myself from stealing glances. “I guess I’ve missed a few chapters if you’re talking to them of your own free will.”
“You probably think I’m stupid. But I know what they’re like. I know that I’m essentially a trophy that they can show off as some accomplishment they didn’t earn, and they’re withholding that because Jamie cheated on me and instead of checking up on me, they cut me off so I don’t make them look bad by association.” My voice has risen closer to a yell. I force myself to calm, kicking my foot against the water, sending out ripples. Then I whisper, “I’m not stupid.”
“I never said you were. I think they’re the stupid ones for not showing up, and I don’t regret sending that voicemail just now because they need to hear it. You deserve people who show up for you. To cheer as loud as they can until they can’t talk the next day.” His eyes say the rest.And that should have been me. Throat raw. Cheeks soar from smiling. Running backstage to tell you just how amazing you are.
“It’s okay.”I forgive you. You’re here now.
“It’s not.”
“It will be.”
Both of us fall silent as the sun inches down to a familiar point on the horizon. Wes pats his pocket for his phone, an automatic response even though I’m right next to him. When he realizes he’s doing this, his cheeks flush and he lays his hand next to mine on the rough pool’s edge.
“Is it just me or does this feel like how it used to? When we listened to music together on my roof,” he asks, bumping his hand against mine. “We thought we knew everything, picking apart songs we could barely play, and lyrics we thought we understood.”
“A little, but mostly it’s different.” My eyes are still set in the distance, so I feel more than see him flinching away. “That’s not a bad thing. We aren’t teenagers anymore. We’re not going backward. That’s impossible. We’re going forward and I think that’s amazing. Back then we were in such a rush to get where we are now. Let’s just enjoy being here before we’re on the road.”
For years, I chased that feeling.
Going. Going. Going.
The security of a full calendar planned out for me by someone else. Being told what to do and who to be. No gaps. No room to sink into a moment and feel good or bad about what I accomplished.
Now I’m giving myself a chance to, and I feel proud that I’ve gotten to this point with Lydia, Kendal, and most of all, Wes.
After a long moment he asks, “What is the biggest worry in your head right now?”
“What you’re getting me for breakfast tomorrow. Is there something I should be worried about?”
“If this is your way of asking what I’m getting you tomorrow, my lips are sealed. Because if I tell you that, you won’t need me. But yes, there is something you need to see.” He grabs my handand the glint in his eye tells me that despite his new sense of urgency that I don’t need to be worried at all.
21
Avery
October 2025
I’m not sure where I pictured us going, but back to the stadium where we did a mic check this morning wasn’t it. He leads me through the cement-walled bowels that echo with each step we take, until we arrive in front of the door to my dressing room.
“You know we don’t have to be back here for at least twelve hours? Unless you’ve been sleeping here. Now that I think of it, I’ve never seen your place,” I joke.
