I have a flashback to the intervention in my home before I push it away.
Nope, not going there.
I can control my drinking now. I went all yesterday without a drop.
“All things considered, I think anyone would have been in a bad shape given what I went through. I’m good now. The tour is coming to an end. The album’s outperformed even our wildest expectations.My Anchorlooks like it will hit number one this week. I can handle my liquor. I just couldn’t handle what happened. But I’ve dealt with that now.”
The rumble in my stomach contradicts me. I’m lying, both to him and myself. But I’ve dealt with it the best way I know how. I put it in a box and filed it away in a dark room at the back of my mind. Alongside everything else.
Nathan turns to me once more, and I give him the same smile that drives all my fans crazy. The corner of his mouth lifts slightly.
I’ve got him.
“That’s my man,” I say, patting his chest twice with my hand. “Oh, and this is between you and me, okay?”
“Okay,” he says, nodding in agreement.
“Now go get that deal across the line,” I say, slapping his ass as he trots off to find Paul.
I head across the room to the couch, where Lucy and Connie are sitting. There’s a Christopher-shaped hole between them. Lucy looks up as I tower above her. Connie doesn’t give me the same courtesy.
“Where’s Christopher?” I ask, rubbing my chest with my hand. The anger inside is starting to subside.
“He said something about jumping on a Zoom. Took himself off to find a quiet space.” She closes her laptop, slides it inside her bag, and pushes herself up off the couch.
“Do you know where?” I ask, my gaze dart to the door when I see a figure passing by the window.
“I don’t, but I could go find him if you want?”
“Please.” I nod at her when she turns back to face me.
“He seems like a great guy. I can see why you like him.” Lucy’s smile and approval acts like a Tums, settling my stomach.
I’m momentarily distracted as Connie makes an inarticulate noise, smirking and shaking her head.
I shake off the need to ask her to clarify her response. Her opinion holds a lot of weight alongside Paul’s in business affairs, but when it comes to affairs of the heart, I defer to Lucy and Erica and, at a push, my mom.
Just before I begin the third take ofStolen Moments, the blue doors in front of me open. Christopher walks through with Lucy. Thank God I’m sitting down on a stool, otherwise the sight of him would have sent me stumbling.
There’s something about the way he carries himself—like he’s slightly uncomfortable in his own skin, but imbues his posture with confidence to counter it—that has me enraptured.
“Alex, you ready?” the engineer asks through my headphones.
The distraction of Christopher and Lucy made me miss the cue, and I’m snapped back into performance mode. I slide my fingers back into position on the guitar.
“I’m ready,” I say, nodding as if the engineer can see me.
“You said that with some determination. Okay, we’re recording. Whenever you’re ready.”
I nod to Freddy, who in a matter of hours has managed to bring this song to life. He created a percussive arrangement that goes far beyond what I envisioned when I wrote it this morning.
My gaze drifts from Freddy back to Christopher as I begin to play out the chords in C major, and hold the intro for four bars rather than two. I adjust myself slightly to get closer to the microphone.
I saw your face on a Thursday,
You were cool as an ocean breeze,
Turned me into a nervous wreck,
