“It’s six days until the wedding, Bryn. You need to finalize these things.”
“We have a planner for a reason, Mom. I don’t want to care about flowers or centerpieces.”
Bryn holds up her hand as her mom begins to speak again. “No, for the love of all things holy, don’t you dare ask me about fucking chargers again. I don’t understand them.”
Lila and Bryn argue over what movie they’re watching on Friday night, until Kelsey clears her throat and announces they should all watchMamma Miaagain. I catch Izzy smiling at me between bites of lasagna, the soft kind of smile that wraps around your ribs and makes it hard to breathe.
Under the table, her pinky hooks around mine, and it’s like everything is finally right in my world.
Chapter forty-two
Izzy
I’vejustfinishedtheoutline of the landscape analysis for W&R Mercantile when a text from an unknown number pops up on my phone.
Unknown Number
Hey, it’s Andre. I hate to ask this, but besides flying to the middle of nowhere, I’m not sure there is another way. Can you help Jaxon clean out his dad’s room? It’s the only one he hasn’t gotten to, and I have to keep delaying the moving team.
I stare at the message for a long second, not sure what I want to do.
I know he has been avoiding that room, but I didn’t realize he hadn’t cleared anything out at all. Which explains why he never mentioned anything about it.
Me
I’ll help him tonight. Not to worry. I’m on it.
Andre
You’re a saint. I owe you.
Me
Happy to help.
Which is true. I am happy to help. I also know Jaxon’s relationship with his dad is something that haunts him to this day, so I’m glad I can be there to support him.
Unfortunately, I also have three more hours’ worth of work to get done, so I can’t just ride out to his house like an avenging angel.
I call him, though, and when he doesn’t answer, I leave a brief voicemail, one that gets cut off when I start laughing as Becca makes kissy faces at me.
That afternoon, I pull up to his dad’s house and give his security guard a quick wave. He waves back, familiar with me enough to stay in his car rather than coming over to make sure I’m not a threat. Ah, the benefits of sleeping with your sister’s security client.
Jaxon’s rental is here, and there’s music coming from the house, the soft sounds of his guitar mixing with the deep timbre of his voice. He truly is remarkable.
He always had a way of singing that made the world feel like it was his for the taking—like no dream was too far out of reach, even if he had to duct-tape it together and drag it behind him to get there.
He used to hum under his breath when he was nervous. Used to pluck out melodies on that battered old guitar. Back then, ourworld was smaller. Just two best friends in a town that felt too tight for the dreams we didn’t know how to say out loud yet.
But even then, I knew. I knew he was going to do something big. I just thought—I hoped—I’d be there cheering him on. And no matter where we are now, I missed that part of his life.
Now he’s everything I imagined and more. A household name. A voice that people stop what they’re doing to listen to. And somehow, even after all this time, his voice still stops me in my tracks.
It’s not just the music. It’s the man behind it.
Knowing he won’t hear me knock anyway, I push the door open and let myself in.
“Hey,” I say, sliding my hand along his shoulder when I find him sitting on the couch, his guitar in his hands. “I like that one. Are you already working on the next album?”
