“Okay, get some sleep. Have fun with Dubs tonight. I love you.”
“I love you too. Good luck tonight.”
“Thanks, baby.”
I blow him a kiss before he smacks a kiss on his screen and accidentally hangs up with his lips. Chuckling, I roll out of bed to use the restroom and wash up.
Pulling on a pair of my comfiest sweatpants, I sift through my hangers and settle on the limited edition retro Wolverines jersey with number twelve on the back. Then, I make my way back to the bed and snuggle up to Jax’s pillow, imagining it’s him I’ve got nestled beside me as I drift into a peaceful sleep.
I’ve just completed building a nest of blankets and pillows on the sofa in the living room when Kyle calls me. Accepting the call, I put him on speaker so I can finish setting things up for when Walker gets here any minute.
“Hey, Kyle.”
“Oh, so you do know how to answer your phone. Good, I was getting worried that maybe you’d lost it,” he says in greeting.
“Clearly not lost. What’s up?”
That question apparently earns me a scoff. “What’supis that my biggest artist isn’t creating anything at the moment except for speculation and negative media buzz.”
“Kyle,” I say his name in warning. “You are one of only a handful of people aside from the label who knows why I am not creating anything right now.”
He hums dismissively. “Look, you’re the one who gallivanted back to Minnesota to live with your estranged husband. And you’ve even got a studio inside his house. You’d think that would inspire you to at least write and record some things while you’re taking your time off.”
I fluff—more like karate punch—the pillow in front of me to get some of my frustration out. “I’m going to cut you off right there.Are you missing the point of why I’m taking time off right now? I have cancer, Kyle. And you already know that. Forgive me if I can barely function through the nausea and exhaustion, let alone try to create anything worth recording while I’ve got extreme brain fog.”
He lets out a deep sigh on the other end of the phone. “You’re right. I’m sorry. It’s just been really difficult to dodge every news outlet’s questions on your whereabouts and why you’ve taken time away when you’re supposed to be recording your album. The timing thankfully worked out to where the label hadn’t announced and scheduled the tour you were supposed to have next summer.”
“So what’s this really about?” I question him, grabbing my phone and doing my best not to stomp into the kitchen to finish prepping the snacks.
“I need you to make an appearance. Well, actually, I need you to perform for the Country Gives Back Concert happening in Nashville the week before Thanksgiving.”
I scoff, because is he for real right now? “I’m not traveling to Nashville while I’m in the middle of treatments.”
“The label was adamant that their artists be among the performers.”
Even though he can’t see me, I throw my hands up in frustration. “I believe I am exempt from that list during my leave.”
“Unfortunately not when it comes to this performance. Can’t your medical team in Minnesota connect with the one you had here in Nashville if there’s anything that comes up?”
What the fuck is his deal?
“Why are you acting this way?” I ask, hurt and confusion lacing my tone.
“What way is that?”
“So pushy and persistent? I don’t get it.”
“It’s not like you had a baby and you’re on maternity leave or anything that the label has listed in your contract.”
I rear back as if I’ve been hit. Is he serious right now?
“That was below the belt,” I choke out, fighting back tears.
Kyle sighs again. “This is why I hate communicating over the phone. You know we communicate best in person. Things have a way of getting misunderstood like this.”
“Maybe you’d have an argument if we were texting. But you said that and now you can’t take it back.”
“What I meant was the label would be more understanding if you were taking a maternity leave to heal and bond with a baby, but unfortunately your current circumstances are different.”
