Cole:Just one more week. I’m so sorry.
One week became two when the producer wanted to re-cut vocals.
I stopped answering his calls.
Not out of anger. Out of self-preservation. Because every time I heard his voice, every excuse that was valid, real, and understandable, it hurt a little more.
Eli found me in my office, staring at nothing. “He called me.”
“Of course he did.”
“He’s worried about you. Says you won’t talk to him.”
“What’s the point? He’s busy. I’m busy. We’re living separate lives.”
“So that’s it? You’re just giving up?”
I looked at Eli, my best friend, the person who knew me better than anyone. “I can’t do this anymore. The waiting and wondering. The feeling like I’m competing with his entire career for scraps of his attention.”
“He loves you.”
“I know, but love isn’t enough when you never see each other. When every plan falls through. When I’m sitting here alone while he’s…” My voice broke. “While he’s living his dream and I’m just the girl waiting by the phone.”
“That’s not fair to either of you.”
“Maybe not. But it’s true.”
My phone buzzed. Cole. Again.
I let it go to voicemail.
Three days later, a package arrived at the rescue.
Inside: a first pressing of vinyl. The album they’d recorded. On the cover, Cole and the band, professional, polished, and completely removed from the man I’d fallen for in a green room in Asheville.
A note fell out:
This is for you. Every song. Every word. You’re in all of it. Please don’t give up on us. I’ll be home in three days. Let me prove we can make this work. I love you. -C
I held the vinyl, staring at his face, and knew I had to make a decision.
That night, Jess sat on my couch while I held the album in my lap.
“Are you going to listen to it?”
“I don’t know if I can.”
“Why not?”
“Because if it’s everything he says it is, then I’ll know letting him go is the right choice.” I traced the album cover with my finger. “And if it’s not, then I’ll know I gave up everything for someone who wasn’t all in.”
“You didn’t give up anything. You’re still here. The rescue’s still running.”
“But I’m miserable, Jess. I go to bed wondering if he’s thinking about me. I’m living half a life waiting for someone who can’t give me what I need.”
“What do you need?”
“Presence.” The word came out rough. “Someone who’s actually here. Not just in theory or over FaceTime, but here. Choosing me every day, not just when it’s convenient.”
