And he and Raine needed to talk.
The next morning, as he ate a bite of breakfast and drank his coffee, he waited for Raine to arrive. When she did, she was quiet and dressed much like she had been the day before—but there was a lightness in her step that hadn’t been there yesterday. He asked, “Did you get an invite to the Guild Awards?”
“Yeah, I just got an email this morning. The nomination’s for you, but because I was the artist, they want me there.”
“I wanted to make sure.”
“Finally. Maybe this is what needs to happen to get everyone to shut the hell up about August already.” She filled the kettle with water and started assembling what she needed for a cup of tea.
Jesus. Raine seemed excited about it—and it was the last goddamned thing Quentin wanted to do. But he had to—for her. The old Quentin would have just blown this shit off…but the man he was today had to do it.
Later on, when both he and Raine got an email from Russ at the label who said they needed to attend together as a couple…that should have been okay.
But it made Quentin feel like he was in a cage with no fucking way out.
Chapter 22
Although the tension between the two of them had eased, Quentin didn’t seem interested in keeping Raine close—not at all. She tried telling herself it wasn’t her fault, that it was something weird going on with Quentin, but it was hard.
They all but finished the album but both thought there was something missing. Most of her days now were spent rehearsing, because a tour would surely be inevitable, even though she hadn’t heard anything official yet. She also kept writing, hoping to compose one more song that would fit with the others on the album, but nothing felt right.
A few days later, Mal sent her an email to let her know that the awards show was considering asking Raine to perform her single, and although it lifted her spirits, something else was going on inside her.
What was wrong?
She read the last part of the email again: They love this song, Raine. They love YOU. And we’re gonna knock ‘em dead. So be ready to perform your song at the awards. I’ll let you know their final decision.
Focusing on her gut, she realized she was also scared shitless. The last time she’d performed in public had been the charity concert where she’d collapsed—and it had had the exact opposite effect of what she’d hoped. She wouldn’t do anything like that again…but being in public again so soon after that event scared her.
Having Quentin there would help, because, out of everyone around her, she trusted him the most. Even with the distance between them now, she knew he had her best interests at heart. With the industry people, she could never be sure.
Quentin had never said for sure if he’d go…so when she went to the kitchen for breakfast, she waited for him to come back from his walk. When he arrived, she said, “Hey, can I ask you a question?”
“Yeah.” He poured himself a cup of coffee…but she waited, wanting to see his face when she asked.
When he turned around, she said, “Mal told me the guild is considering having me perform ‘Ripped Away’.” The asshole likely hadn’t figured out it was about him—or, worse, didn’t care.
“That’s great.” Yeah, Quentin said the right words, but there was something about the way he said it that made her feel like he didn’t actually feel that way. Did he regret making this album with her?
“Um…I could have my band back me up, but they don’t know any of the music yet. And I was kinda thinking it might be cool to do an acoustic version. Everyone’s heard the single as it’ll be on the album, but I thought it might hit harder with soft accompaniment.”
“Good call.”
“I envisioned…you playing the acoustic guitar so I can focus on getting the emotion right in the words.” Although Quentin wasn’t frowning at her words, he didn’t look enthusiastic, either. “The label would love that. It would continue to push the narrative,” she added, making air quotes while using their stuffy language.
At that, Quentin nodded and glanced at the coffee in his cup as if trying to read tea leaves. “Yeah, I can see how they’d say something like that.”
Raine swallowed the lump in her throat. “I just…wanted to make sure you’ll be there.”
After a few more seconds of silence, he let out a small breath and then put his empty hand on her shoulder—the first time he’d touched her in weeks. “I will.” But it wasn’t just his words. She knew with his tone and his eyes that he meant it.
Raine’s heart bloomed with his promise—because, despite everything else that had happened the last few weeks, this meant something.
It meant he believed in her—and he believed in the song. And, maybe, it was possible he also believed in them. Maybe he just had a lot of personal shit to work out. She could relate to that.
And she knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that her career was back on the upswing. As angry as she’d been with the people at the label, she had to give them credit. All they’d made her—them—do thus far had worked. While there was still a lot of negativity directed at her online, she knew that this new album would once and for all close that door.
Deep down, she hoped that this would be what it took to pull Quentin out of his funk…because, as much as she hated to admit it, she needed him.
