My cheeks warm. “I was going to say cheesy.”
Beatrice grunts as she ambles down the stairs. “Nothing cheesy about it. As I said, I think it’s cute. And beautiful. And fantastic.” She stops in front of me with a smile. “And it gives me hope that people still fall in love the sweet, sappy way. Like in all my favorite love songs.” She nods toward the interior of the house. “Now, are we going to drink wine and gossip for a while before bed?”
“Hell yes, we are,” I say, leading the way toward the kitchen.
“Good,” she says, bouncing after me. “I brought wine in my duffle bag, and I need to tell you all the embarrassing things Baylor did as a kid. That way, you’ll have ammunition if he ever gets too big for his britches.”
“Have I told you how much I like you yet?” I ask, grinning at her over my shoulder.
“Yes, you have.” She beams. “But I still love hearing it, and I adore you, too. I can’t imagine anywhere I’d rather be the day after blowing up my career.”
“You didn’t,” I assure her, fetching the corkscrew from the drawer by the sink. “It’s the end of a chapter. There’s still a lot of story and career left to go.”
“Agreed,” she says, pulling a bottle of pinot noir from her bag. “I mean, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little scared about what comes next. But I’m excited, too. I’d rather fail making music I love than spend another ten years getting paid to sing songs I’m just not passionate about anymore.”
“Amen, sister.” I place two wineglasses on the island between us.
She pours the wine, and we toast to new beginnings, reinvention, and a fantastic future ahead. Then, we settle into the living room, and she keeps her promise to give me all the dirt on her brother.
We laugh until nearly midnight, and by the time we finally head to bed, I’m even more certain that we were meant to be friends.
And maybe, someday…family.
It’s crazy to be thinking about forever with a guy I was doing my best to stop sleeping with just a week ago, but hey, maybe crazy isn’t all bad.
Twenty
BEATRICE NIX
I’m a terrible person.
And a liar, the one thing I’ve never wanted to be.
Well, that’s not entirely true. I’ve never wanted to be a murderer or a puppy kicker either, but I’ve always hated lies. Ever since I was a little girl.
Lying to my fans feels awful.
Just…awful.
By the time I’ve scrolled through the five-hundredth—Sending you so much love, Beatrice. My entire family is praying for you and all the members of the band. Your music has seen me through some seriously dark times, girl. Now, we’re going to see you through this one. Violet Widow Stan forever!—comment on my social post announcing the “sabbatical,” I start to feel physically ill.
I press a fist to my stomach, hunching over Charlotte’s lovely breakfast nook table, wishing I’d never opened my laptop. I’d be enjoying this homemade banana bread and French press coffee a lot more without the side of liar’s guilt.
But then, maybe I don’t deserve to enjoy my breakfast.
Maybe banana bread without misery is for people who haven’t spread blatant falsehoods across the entire internet.
“What’s wrong?” Charlotte asks, leaning back in her chair, her plate clean except for a few crumbs. “You feeling okay? Maybe I shouldn’t have opened that second bottle of wine last night.”
I shake my head. “No, it’s not that. I feel fine. I mean, physically fine.” I pick at the edge of the bread, but can’t force myself to bring it to my mouth. “It’s just my fans…” I nod toward the laptop. “They’re being so wonderful and supportive and praying for me, and…” I wince. “I feel awful for lying. They probably think I’m fighting cancer or something, and here I am, feeling fine and feasting on homemade banana bread.”
“To be fair, you aren’t feasting on anything,” Charlotte says. “You’ve barely touched your breakfast or your coffee. But more importantly, there’s no need to feel guilty. Seriously. You’re fresh out of a horrible relationship. Domestic violence is serious shit.”
I sink lower in my chair. “I know, but I’m not sick. And I?—”
“No, but you’re in recovery all the same,” Charlotte cuts in, the no-nonsense tone in her usually calm, soothing voice making it clear she isn’t saying this just to make me feel better. “You have a lot of healing to do before you’ll be the person you were before Kai.”
I press my lips together, fighting a wave of something darker than guilt.
