“High and dry is a little much.”I turn towards the window.
“Call it what you want, and I’ll call it how I see it.”
I’m about to say something I’ll surely regret when my phone vibrates in my hand.It’s a FaceTime from Tim.I work to tamp down my excitement before pressing the answer button.
“Hey,” I say, but it’s a trickle of rain compared to the noise of the crowd and one very familiar voice belting out a cover of “How Can It Be.”The picture quality is blurred, but I can make out her small figure at the center of the stage.She’s in her signature loud wardrobe, wearing a hot-pink striped vest and purple flowy pants.On her head is a hat only she and the Mad Hatter can pull off.
“Stop smiling like that,” Gabriella mocks.
“Shh.”
The song ends and she starts to thank the crowd.
“This is everything a girl like me could ask for.Truly a dream come true.Thank you to everyone here and”—she looks straight at Tim—” and for those who aren’t here but have been with me along this journey.I love you, good night!”She holds the microphone above her head and does a big wave before locking it back into the stand and walking off.I can’t remember the last time I took a breath.
Tim’s face appears and he yells, “I think she meant you.”
Gabriella chokes on a laugh.“Your friends are as smart as you, eh?”Normally this would trigger me, but I’m defenseless.Unstable.
“I’ll call you later.”
“Yeah, okay.”And he’s gone.I stare at the seat in front of me, a mixture of feelings swelling in my chest.
“You need to snap out of it.”Gabriella grabs my face, directing my attention towards hers.“We have two more shows, Levi.Two!We need you to make it one more round and then you can ride off into the sunset with Tate.Unlike her, we don’t currently have a record deal.It’s time to cowboy up.”
I push her hands off me.“I’m fine.I’m focused.You worry about you.”
She’s makes a tsking sound with her mouth.“Now, what kind of wife would I be if I did that?”
“The fake kind.”
***
Surprise, surprise, we made it to the final round.Just me against Gabriella.I have a week to prepare and a week to care.Above the sound of my feet pounding the pavement, chasing each exhale that pours from my mouth in mighty whooshes, is unease.
I started running the property when I got back.Loop after loop, I’ve tried to drown my thoughts, lose myself, but each time I come back, body bruised but no closer to peace.I wipe the back of my hand across my brow as my feet come to a stop outside the studio.The ghost of Tate and me bob and weave around each other, meeting in harmony at the chorus.I shake the vision of us with a quick wag of the head and keep walking.
It’s just me and Gabriella in this big old house now and things have definitely changed.“Engaged” but no longer an alliance.“In love” but she wants this just as much as I do.Or as much as I did.I sometimes wonder if I would have made it this far without Jan and her strings.I twist my hat back, rubbing my feet against the bristle doormat before letting myself in.Holding the latch, I pull the door to a close behind me as quietly as a door the size and weight of a car garage can.
I can’t wait to get out of here.Get home.Even though my home is now also Tate’s home, according to Tim, who apparently helped with the heavy lifting.He made sure to tell me it had nothing to do with her wanting to be near me and a decision her label made and is paying for.To which I responded, “Thanks, man.That feels really good.”Idiot.I don’t mean that.In fact, I’m the idiot.I’m the one who went numb with no explanation.The one who pushed her away, instead of pulling her close with the truth.We’re good...she doesn’t hate me or anything like that, but it’s not like it was.To be fair, she’s been busy.Two shows under her belt and already a massive fan following.I checked her page last night and she’s grown to over 500,000 followers seemingly overnight.
Gabriella’s voice carries through the hall.Sounds like she’s cooking in the kitchen.I toe off my running shoes and take each step with care until I make it into the safety of my room.With my back against the closed door, I let out a sigh.My phone vibrates again and it’s my mom.She’s been calling and texting me constantly since I left Nashville.I’m still not quite sure how I feel about all of it.The logical, loving response is to be happy for her.But I can’t shake the feeling of betrayal and hurt.I stare at the shape of her name across my phone a second longer before answering.
“Yeah.Hello, Ma.”
“Levi.”My name comes out over sounds of horns, clatter, and people.That doesn’t sound like my house, yard, or anywhere but Broadway on a weekend night.It’s just breaking 9 a.m.here, so I know that can’t be where she is.
“Levi,” she says again.“I’m at the airport.”
“The airport?”
The noise starts to fade, like she’s walking back inside.“Hello?”
“I can hear you.”
“This isn’t much of a surprise, but I’m here!Surprise!”
“Here...where’s here?”
