“I know you and Ten are…close.”
I close my eyes and cringe.
“Angie?”
I don’t open my eyes.
“I’d be the most unobservant person if I didn’t realize you two—”
I press my hands to my ears.
She pulls my hands away. “Angie, I’m okay with it.”
“You are?” I croak.
“Look at me.”
“In a second.”
She snorts. “Don’t worry… I’m not going to ask you for any details.”
I snap my lids open. “Does Jeff know?”
She smiles. “From one day to the next, his son doesn’t want to leave Nashville anymore. Of course he knows.”
“Does he hate me? I don’t mean for dating his son… I mean for winning Mona’s contest?”
“He may not be a fan of his ex-wife, but he’s a huge fan of yours.”
I blow out air through my lips. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”
She stops combing my hair. “I’m not. He’s never seen his kids happier than since you’ve come into their lives. Both his kids.”
“Neither is real happy today.”
“Today will pass.”
I stare at the ivory ceiling, which looks white in contrast to the pale gray walls. Appearances can be so deceiving. “Do you think it’s possible Mona picked me because she knew who I was and wanted to get back at her family?”
Mom’s hand stills in my hair. “How would that benefit her, Angie? It would just make her look petty. Besides, she picked your song, not you. Do you really think she would’ve picked a song she doesn’t want to put on her album?”
“I guess not.”
Mom’s phone rings. She leans over to scoop it up from the coffee table. “Hey, Jeff.”
I sit up, tucking my feet underneath me.
“She cut school?… No, she’s not here… Okay… Of course. I’ll have Angie try to call her… We’ll call you right back.”
The second Mom hangs up, she asks me to phone Nev, worry darkening her brown irises. I jump to my feet and head to the foyer to dig my phone out of my jacket pocket.
I call Nev’s number, feeling colder than when I made snow angels with Rae, colder than when Ten backed away from me. It goes to voice mail. “Nev, call me back right away. I’m not mad, okay? Just call me back.”
I hang up, then stare at my screen, which is overflowing with notifications, tags, texts. I look for one from Ten, but he seems to be the only person in all of Belle Meade who hasn’t written me. Even the singer from the Moon Junkies DMed me.
Just as I’m trying Nev’s number again our doorbell rings. I stride to the door and look through the peephole. When I see who it is, I open the door wide.
“Mom, Nev’s here!” I yell, taking in the sliver of reddened face I can see between the ropes of tangled hair.
