JEREMY
2:58 p.m.
Sean:Leaving now. I should get to your place no later than 4:30. Then I can change, and we can go to Carnegie Hall together.
Me:Sounds good. How did the interview go? Sorry I couldn’t watch it. I just got back from the dress rehearsal.
Sean:It was fine. She tried to get some inside info on you, but she got nothing from me.
Me:Thank you *heart emoji*
Sean:No problem. See you soon. Love you.
3:37 p.m.
Sean:There’s an accident on the Turnpike. The GPS is now saying we won’t get to your place until around 5:00.
Me:That should still be ok. Carnegie isn’t far from my place.
Sean:Ok. I’ll let you know if anything changes.
I let out a sigh. Leave it to the traffic gods to turn an easy trip into a nightmare. I went to my closet to check my tuxedo for the fifth time, brushing off imaginary lint from the lapels yet again. This would be my first big public performance since the debacle at Juilliard a year ago. I wasn’t high, and I wasn’t withdrawing, but my anxiety was threatening to go through the roof.
I took a breath to center myself and went through my grounding techniques. I thought about calling Sean, but I had a feeling he was pretty stressed about the traffic, even though Marco was driving. Instead, I went to my piano and played some of the songs from the night at the piano bar. It brought back the memory of how much fun I’d had and the joy playing always brought me. It also reminded me of our dance at Evan’s wedding and the first time Sean told me he loved me.
I was in such a good headspace that when my phone rang, I didn’t bother to check who was calling. “Hello?”
“Are you really dating that tattooed ruffian?”
I sighed. I should have looked. “Hello, Mother,” I said. “No one says ruffian anymore, by the way.”
“So it’s true?”
“It’s true that I’m dating a wonderful man who loves me, takes care of me, and always has my back. He also happens to have tattoos which are incredibly sexy, especially up close.”
There was a prolonged silence on the other end. Then my mother said, “I don’t know what’s happened to you, Jeremy. Ever since the accident, you’re just not yourself anymore. How could you possibly give up someone like Pierce Ingram for this Sean person? He’s common. His parents are Irish immigrants, for goodness’ sake.”
I pulled my phone away from my ear and looked at it aghast. “Did I just walk onto the set ofDownton Abby? Seriously, Mother, did you just say my boyfriend isn’t good enough because his parents are Irish? And how do you even know that?”
“Pierce ran a background check on him to make sure he wasn’t some kind of criminal,” she replied haughtily.
My anxiety was instantly replaced by fury. “Criminal?How dare you? You know nothing about him. You really know nothing about Pierce if you think he’s a good man. Pierce doesn’t love me. He only loves himself and his money. He liked having me around because I was famous and made him look good.”
I heard her try to sputter some retort, but I was done. “This conversation is over. If you want to continue speaking to me or have any kind of relationship with me at all, you will never mention Pierce’s name to me again.”
“Jeremy…”
“I mean it, Mother. If you love Pierce so much, adopt him and leave him all your money.” I took a breath to calm my racing heart. “I’m done with this. I have a concert to prepare for, which I’m sure you will miss—again.”
I hung up before she could say anything else. I was proud of myself for not throwing my phone across the room. Tears stung the backs of my eyes, and I wanted to scream. A five-minute conversation just blew away a whole afternoon of emotional preparation.
My phone rang again, and I almost threw it this time, thinking it was my mother calling back. Luckily, I looked at the screen first. “Sean,” I said with a shaky breath. “I’m so glad you called.”
“Hey, baby,” he replied, sounding concerned. “What’s wrong?”
My voice was hoarse when I answered. “My mother called. She must have seen your interview. She chastised me for leaving Pierce for a ‘tattooed ruffian.’”
Sean snorted a laugh. “Who says ruffian anymore?”
