But she knew with Quentin, being as closed off as he was now, it would just be an act. It wouldn’t be real. For her, though, it was so hard blurring that line. What if she fell for him again, losing herself in the fantasy? Would that look like success, any of it?
Would it hurt her heart more than it already did?
By the time they wrapped up late afternoon, Russ said, “So…you need to let us know if this is doable.”
“Uh, yeah.”
“Specifically, I mean you and Quentin as a couple. Earlier, you didn’t seem willing to commit to what we’re asking.”
Jesus. They were asking for an answer she couldn’t give right now—because of Quentin. She would never dream of speaking for him. “I’ll let you know.”
But it just didn’t feel right. Not at all.
The next morning, Raine was rehearsing the song for the awards show, focusing only on vocals while Quentin played an acoustic guitar to accompany her. Even though it was a little different from the pre-recorded version and she had to make adjustments, it worked beautifully. Later that day, she’d practice other songs, especially the ones where she’d be playing guitar or a different instrument.
After going through the song twice, Quentin asked, “Ready?”
Even though she wanted to practice the song more, it could wait. “No. Uh…I wanted to talk to you about the meeting yesterday.”
“I thought you said you were organizing appearances and stuff. I told you I’ll be there for whatever you need.”
“Yeah, but…”. She grabbed a chair and sat down, waiting for him to join her. Although he did sit close enough to her for them to communicate and he didn’t act like he wanted more space, there was no denying he was tense and he seemed distracted. “Here’s the thing. They pushed me hard yesterday, asking me to really sell us as a couple, telling me to do things like ‘lean into it’ and ‘keep it going.’ What should we do?”
Quentin just shook his head—telling her absolutely nothing.
But she’d thought about it. She was tired of playing games, because the distance it had caused between them was painful, and she loved Quentin for who he was, not who he could pretend to be for helping her career—and he needed to know that. “But I’m not going to do it anymore.”
“No?”
“No. I’m…going to sing at the awards show, and I’m going to give the best goddamned performance of my life—but I don’t want to be fake anymore in any way.”
Raising his eyebrows, Quentin asked, “You sure you want to take that chance?”
“Yes. I’ve given it a lot of thought, and that’s what I’m going to do. I’m choosing you over the wishes of the men in control.” And, she didn’t say it out loud, but she was choosing him even over her career. He was that important to her, even where their relationship stood at the moment. Quentin’s pupils dilated in his dark brown eyes and he took in a slow breath—but he said nothing. “I still hope you’ll be there to perform the song with me. Not to play my boyfriend, but as my friend.”
Unlike a few days earlier when he’d promised to be there, he just nodded his head, but she could tell that something she’d said had shaken him. It was too late to take it back, and she wouldn’t anyway. Finally, he said, “Yeah, I’ll be there.” The words were right…but he clenched his jaw as if refraining from saying more.
The way the silence filled that room as if it were an unseen gas filling the space, building pressure around them, made her doubt for just a moment.
No. He promised.
And she decided to believe him.
Chapter 23
Quentin woke up in a strange hotel room, filled momentarily with a sense of panic. All goddamned night, he’d struggled with sleep and now, finally having drifted off, he was awakened by the sound of his phone. Sitting up in bed, he tried to pull a breath into his lungs, but it was difficult because his chest was so tight.
Jesus Christ. He hadn’t felt like this in a long time.
At least the label had respected Raine’s demands for separate hotel rooms.
He refused to see what the notification on his phone was—at least not until he had some caffeine in his system.
Getting up, he used the coffeemaker in the room to brew a small cup of fairly shitty coffee—but it was better than nothing. This whole goddamned day promised to be a nightmare. Couldn’t he at least have a decent cup of java first?
Before he got in the shower, his phone was already ringing—and then he looked at the screen. Already, it was filled with a shit ton of notifications, missed calls, and calendar reminders that he hadn’t personally scheduled. Gritting his teeth, he tried not to notice how heavy the phone felt when he picked it up.
It was Russ, of course. “Just checking in. How are you feeling?”
