“My momma?” I ask, pretending I don’t know exactly who she’s talking about.
“Nice try,” Miranda says. She’s the edgier of the two, rocking a sleeveless denim romper with flared legs and a deep V-neck. Her teal leather cowboy boots add a bold pop, while a red scarf tied around her locs gives her a vintage flair—making her a favorite among their younger fans. The two are the granddaughters of a famous Black country star who was big inthe ’70s, and they have voices that could easily launch music careers of their own.
“Why did y’all never get into music yourselves?” I ask, making one final pivot that makes the girls laugh.
“Lucy Jane Williams! Do we need to call your Momma?” Miranda says. “Are you or are you not currently dating Connor Nash?”
I know I should think of what my label wants. Of what the fans will want. Of my career and the way that prolonging any tie to Nash will only elevate me further.
But all I can think of is cuddling with Patty on the Ferris wheel; of laughing with him in the bathroom of the Velvet Antler Lodge; of hearing him bear so much of his heart and wanting all the pieces he was holding back.
I smile at the sisters, erasing all hints of pretense.
“I am not currently dating Connor Nash.”
“Girl, please,” Miranda says. “The internet is awash with people who claim to have seen you two together.”
I laugh, laying on the skepticism. “I don’t see how. We’re both on tour.”
Miranda pulls up a photo—clearly AI—and I groan. “Look closer. That photo shows me with six fingers. It’s fake.”
Miranda yanks the phone closer, inspects the picture, and then tuts. “Darn it. I thought we were gettin’ a scoop.” Then she puts the phone down and eyes me. “Although, that doesn’t mean you two ain’t still a thing. Someone from Third Street Records was asked about y’all just yesterday. Know what they said?”
“’No comment’?” I say hopefully. Tiredly.
“Nope,” Annie says. “They said they’re excited to see where you two go.”
That freakin’ label …
How can I be diplomatic while being honest? “Well, wearebecoming friends, and we’re wildly supportive of each other’scareers. I’m pinching myself that I’m gonna perform with him at Hot Strings Hall.”
Miranda isn’t loving my response, based on those narrowed eyes.
“You know, I’ve heard this answer a lot of times. It sounds like what people who are secretly dating tell interviewers all the time. ‘Oh, he’s just a good friend. I adore him, but we don’t have any news to report.’”
I force a laugh, because she’s not wrong. But also because this is the nature of fame. Nothing I say will quell speculation. This answer is for me. Maybe Patty, too.
“I can see why you’d think that. All I can tell you is the truth. I’m enjoying getting to know Connor better, but that’s all there is to it.”
Annie and Miranda eye each other.
“Who wouldn’t enjoy gettin’ to know Connor Nash better?” Miranda fans herself, and Annie and I laugh. “I’ve had a crush on that man since my ‘Bama days.”
“Roll Tide!” Annie says, and we all laugh.
“But back on the subject, you’ve said previously that Duncan and Nash were huge influences for you. Tell us more about that.”
I fight a frown. I’ve answered this question a lot of times, but not knowing what I know now.
“Obviously, I grew up around the music industry, but my experience only showed me one path to being a recording artist. But I didn’t want to get famous through my parents, and I didn’t want to use their connections.”
“I get that,” Annie says. “It’s hard constantly being compared to your famous family member. It’s part of why we didn’t go the music route.”
Miranda nods, and so do I. “Exactly. I was an impressionable teen trying to figure out how to make my dreams a reality when Duncan and Nash’s first video came out. Do you rememberthe one? That split screen with Duncan’s back to the camera, wearing all black against the white backdrop, and Nash on the other screen facing the camera in that white T-shirt with the black backdrop?”
“Do I ever,” Miranda says. “Nash looked like an angel. Sang like one, too.”
“He did,” I agree. “But it was Duncan who fascinated me. Here he was, slaying on the guitar, playing chord progressions that shouldn’t have worked but did, singing harmonies in a way that enhanced the melody, doing something totally unique—and no one could see his face.”
