CHAPTER 25
TYLER
Tyler gave herself exactly one day to stay in bed and listen to “Landslide” on repeat. It was her mother’s favorite song, and Stevie Nicks made her cry every time. But she wasn’t angry at Stevie or Cary—she was furious with herself for letting it happen again.
She turned off her phone and ignored her computer. She didn’t even call Dylan to vent or trash-talk Emma. She needed to sit with this pain, to let it sink in so she’d remember next time. Most importantly, she needed to learn her lesson—never fall for a musician.
The cycle between devastation and rage continued throughout the day as her blood ran hot then cold, like a drug addict kicking a habit. But that’s what he was: a hard habit to break.
At least Rory was beside her and he smelled better after his bath. The cookies were hardly adequate after what he’d gone through. He probably needed a dog therapist.
Maybe it was time to have a baby? If Yestown signed a record deal she’d have enough money to freeze her eggs. Of course she’d use a spermdonor, because the idea of another man touching her made her queasy and she almost puked trying to imagine it.
Admittedly, the next two weeks weren’t her finest. Still, she soldiered on, negotiating with Cary’s music publisher for the rights to record his song. There was no reason to speak to him directly—so she didn’t. She ignored his texts, emails, and calls—a silent, seethingfuck youfrom someone who used to reply in seconds. She camethisclose to blocking his number but didn’t. As long as he was letting Yestown record the track, she had to play nice.
Tyler woke up earlier than usual in a pool of sweat. Her dreams about Cary had become more frequent, not less, and it pissed her off to the fullest extent. She rolled over and checked her phone. It readfebruary 14.
Ugh.
Valentine’s Day was bullshit—and not just because she was single. When she was with Dave, it was worse. He forgot four out of five years, and the one time he remembered, he used a coupon at a budget restaurant.
But seriously, with everyone being so sensitive these days it surprised her that some trigger warning advocates weren’t calling for its abolishment.
Her phone vibrated a few minutes later. It was Kim calling from the East Coast. She probably wanted to commiserate about this stupid-ass day people made up to sell flowers and candy to hopeless romantics.
“What’s going on?” Tyler answered.
Kim paused on the other end. “Cary’s, like, going to kill me if he finds out I told you—”
“What? Is he sending me roses? That’s lame as fuck.” She’d have to compost them in her building’s green bin.
What a fucking hassle.
“Dude, he blew off his interview and he’s on his way there.” Kim’s tone was short. “Oh, and the segment producer had a fucking conniption on my head, so thanks for that.”
“What?” Tyler’s breath hitched, her chest tightening like a vise. “Why’s he coming out here?”
“Because you won’t take his calls or answer his texts.”
“Boo fucking hoo.”
“Don’t be like that.” Unfortunately, this fiasco had put Kim in an awkward spot, and Tyler didn’t help by not responding. “He said something about going to the office.”
“I’ll work from home.”
“You’re not supposed to know!”
“Fine.” Tyler sighed, clearly frustrated. “But I’m not talking to him.”
“What are you going to do? Avoid him forever?”
“Works for me.”
“Dude, he said nothing happened and I believe him.”
“Yeah, right.” Sarcasm dripped from her voice. Dave had denied cheating—right up until she found hundreds of incriminating emails. Of course he didn’t have money to buy a laptop so he used hers but forgot to log out of his account. She went on, “Kim, I know he’s your boss but I need you to be on my side, not his.”
“I’m on Team Tyler. Why do you think I’m calling? Do you honestly think I’d, like, try to fix this if he was some asshole?”
