“Yeah. Wow, that’s never happened before.”
“This is why you need to do this. You need to either make up or walk away and finally let it go.”
She’s probably right, but that doesn’t mean I can do this. “I don’t know. Yes, you’re not wrong, but I don’t know if I can do this.”
“You won’t be alone. I’ll be with you the whole time, unless you tell me to give you space. It could happen. Maybe he’s dying to see you again. Did you take the time to listen to any of his music while you were stalking him?”
Yup, I couldn’t resist listening to some of his songs, and wow. He’d been talented at eighteen, but now he was amazing. Almost all of his songs are about heartbreak. They even called him the King of Breakup Songs. What if that was because of me? Maybe he should thank me. Yeah, right? Fuck. I’d laugh right now if I weren’t still panicking.
“Get out of your head and go get dressed. Wear something sexy.”
I give her the side-eye. “Are you kidding me? I don’t own anything sexy, and you know it.”
“You’re impossible. Do I have to do everything?” Cindy grabs my arm and practically drags me to my bedroom, then throws open the closet and rifles through the clothing hanging in there. “Oh hell yes, this is perfect,” she says triumphantly. “You’re wearing this.” She’s holding a pair of dark blue jeans and a button-down black silk shirt with silver sequin accents.
I bought it for a dinner party years ago. It probably doesn’t even fit. Even as I’m shaking my head, she tosses them on the bed and comes back out with my cowboy boots. I didn’t realize I still had them. Shit. Fuck. Damn.
“Get dressed. We’re leaving in ten minutes whether you’re ready or not. I’ve got to pick up our tickets and the passes as the box office.”
I’m probably making the second-biggest mistake of my life. When Cindy gets like this, she won’t take no for an answer. Dammit. I’m doing this.
The jeans fit, but they’re skintight, and I hope I can breathe when I sit down. The shirt fits too. I surprise myself when I look in the mirror. I look hot.
It’s weird to see my long hair down. Usually, I wear it up in a messy bun or a ponytail, but wearing it down makes me feel sexy. My brown eyes sparkle with excitement, or maybe it’s dread. I’m pale, and I have dark circles under my eyes, but that’s nothing a little concealer and blush won’t fix. I have a lot more curves than I did at eighteen. But I’m not planning on hitting on him. Closure—that’s the goal, like Cindy said.
After adding some blush, mascara, and lip gloss, she drags me out the door. Probably a good thing, if she gave me more time, back out. Now I need to figure out what I’m going to say to Jason if I have a chance.
four
. . .
Jason
The soundcheck at the Kia Center goes off without a hitch, not that I expected any. I’m stepping into the elevator when my phone buzzes.
Oakley: I’m on my way back. Anything you need?
Me: Nope. I’m good.
Oakley: How’d the soundcheck go? I tried to get back in time.
Me: It’s fine. I’ve got this down. You okay?
Oakley: Yeah, but you won’t be happy. I’ll explain. I should be there in about ten minutes.
Fuck. Not what I want to hear right now.
Me: Okay. See you soon.
I make it into the room and take a quick shower. The suite door opens as I’m pulling on a pair of gray sweatpants and a black T-shirt. There’s still a couple of hours before I need to head over for the concert, might as well be comfortable.
Oakley pops the top on a beer as I walk into the living room.
“That good, huh?”
“Yeah, you could say that. I’d offer you one, but I already know your answer.”
Nodding, I catch the water bottle she tosses. I rarely drink, and never when I’m performing. No forgotten lyrics or falling off the stage for me.
