“There’s lots of speculation about whether the song was written about your relationship…” Miranda trails off and waits.
No matter how many times they ask about the lyrics and how they relate to us, I refuse to answer. Cash’s management may have gotten me to agree not to mention Miles, but I’m not giving away the only piece of the song that’s still mine.Ours.
Usually, a wide smile and a “That’s close to my heart. I’d like to keep it to myself,” does the trick, but I say firmly, “We won’t be discussing that today.”
Cash chuckles. “You heard the lady.”
Miranda admits defeat and moves on to asking the usual: tour dates, whether we’ll work together again, and a few silly get-to-know-you questions.
I answer on autopilot, hitting all the talking points Kendra has drilled into me. Smile. Be grateful. Don’t say anything that could be misconstrued.
Don’t mention Miles.
I think I stayed on script, but I’m so checked out today that I can’t be sure.
“Well, I think we’ve got everything we need.” Miranda gathers her notes, and the camera guy packs up.
Cash walks them out. The door clicks shut, and he leans against it, exhaling hard. “I hate those.”
“You’re so good at them.” I sink deeper into the couch.
“They’ve programmed me well.” He moves like a robot, stiff and mechanical.
He grabs two water bottles from the mini fridge and tosses me one, then drops onto the opposite end of the couch. “You were a little off.”
I glare at him, and he raises his hands. “Okay, okay. How’re you holding up?” he tries again.
I crack open the water. “I’m tired.”
“You look it.”
“Oh, well, thanks.” I take a long drink.
“You talk to Hockey Boy today?”
My heart performs that now familiar flip. “Not really. Mostly texts.”
“Must be hard, both of you having such crazy schedules?”
“It’s…” I pause, because I don’t know what to say. That I’m scared we’re drifting apart. That I don’t know how to close the gap when we’re barely able to talk. That I miss him so much it physically hurts.
But this is just temporary. If they win the Cup, Miles will have time off. Things will get easier.
“It’s hard to find time that works for both of us,” I settle on.
“For what it’s worth,” Cash starts, picking at the label on his water bottle, “I’m sorry. I know the rumors aren’t making things easier for you.”
“It’s not your fault.”
Cash has been my only sounding board since I got here, the only one who seems to care that I’m here at all, outside of the press. Paula convinced Kendra she’d look after me, so aside fromour emails, I don’t even have her. In her last one, Kendra said she’s trying to find a way to get me out of the contract, so that’s something.
“Isn’t it?” He huffs, his head falling against the back of the couch.
I cross my arms, then uncross them. “No.Imade the choice to do this. I knew what I was signing up for.”
Silence grows, and when I look over at Cash, he’s staring into space. “Can’t be easy for you either,” I hedge.
His head flops toward me. “I’m used to it.”
