“Yup. Just getting jacked with the other old ladies,” I joke, flexing a bicep and leaning in to give him a kiss.
“Iz…I’ve been…I’ve been trying to get a hold of you.”
Suddenly, I notice he’s not smiling. How he waited on my porch instead of letting himself in.
“Sorry,” I reply. There’s something about his posture that makes my desire to kiss him feel like it might not be welcome right now. “I left my phone in the car by accident. What’s up?”
He runs his fingers through his hair, leaving deep trails alongside earlier ones. “I’m hosting the HMAs this year.”
“Oh,” I say, uncertain why the smile on my face feels out of place. “Congratulations? That sounds like a pretty big deal.”
He lets out a heavy sigh. “It is. And it also isn’t. But, well, the thing is...”
I raise my eyebrow, wishing he would cut to the chase so we can at least be on the same page about why this seems like the world is coming to an end.
“What?” I ask when it appears he’s not going to finish his thought.
“It’s on Saturday.”
A knot forms in the center of my ribs as I ask, “As in…this Saturday? Like, the day of Bryn’s wedding?”
Jaxon nods, barely able to meet my eyes.
I lick my lips, searching his face for answers. “And, you’re going?”
“I fought it,” he says quickly, as if it would somehow soften the blow. “I told them no. I pushed back. Which is why I’m just mentioning it now. But my label won’t budge, and well, it’s in my contract that they can make the final call on these things. So, if I don’t go, I could lose everything. My contract. My label. My songs. All my songs, Iz.” He says the last part like it explains everything.
“Right,” I say, but it’s like my synapses have stopped firing, my brain unable to understand. “So, you’re hosting the HMAs on Saturday night, so you’re…not going to be able to come to the wedding?”
“It’s at the same time, Iz. I can’t. I literally can’t.”
“Okay,” I say. Not because it is, but because, what else is there to say? He has to go.
“Unfortunately, they need me there as soon as possible. I have to be on a plane to Nashville in”—he checks his watch—“twenty minutes. I tried to tell you sooner, but you didn’t answer your phone.”
Heat burns behind my eyes. My jaw aches from clenching.
“I see,” I say, crossing my arms, not out of anger, but to protect myself from the sadness I feel creeping in. It’s not even about fooling my family anymore. I just want Jaxon with me.
“I’m coming back, Iz. Trust me.”
I do. It might be blurry and unlikely, but I can see our life together playing out. One where he loves me for who I am, and I’m his biggest supporter, the inspiration behind every love song he writes. I want it to be true.
But I don’t know if I will be able to fully believe it until he actually comes back.
“Okay.” A tear drips down the side of my nose, and I swipe at it angrily. I should not be crying right now.
“Iz,” Jaxon says, coming down the stairs, his arms expanding to give me a hug.
It’s an embrace I desperately want.
He wraps me into him, but I just can’t seem to make my crossed arms drop and return his hug. I’m disoriented. I’m not sure why I’m crying. We’ve moved past the point where the only thing between us is a deal for him to be my fake date to something real.
“I’m so sorry, Izzy,” he says, his voice soft and low, his breath tickling the shell of my ear. “I have to do this. It’s my career. My life. Mysongs.”
“Of course. Of course you do. I understand,” I say. And I do. Even if my heart doesn’t. Even if I’m questioning everything.
Jaxon leans back cautiously, his callused thumb gently touching my face. “I will be back. I need you to believe that.”
