Delilah:Lucky Susan update: he came back for more roses. Apparently the first batch “worked too well” and now he needs anniversary flowers.
Delilah:I pointed out they’re not married.
Delilah:He said “not yet, but Susan’s warming up to me.”
Delilah:I love my job.
I smile. Sink onto the bed. This stupid, oversized hotel bed that’s probably worth more than everything I own back in Twin Waves.
I call her instead of texting.
She picks up on the fourth ring. “Hey.”
Her voice sounds off. Flat.
“Hey yourself. Everything okay?”
“Yeah. Fine. How was the meeting?”
She doesn’t sound fine. But maybe I’m imagining it. Maybe it’s just the distance, the phone connection, the fact that I’m three thousand miles away and can’t see her face.
“Long. Complicated. Full of people in expensive suits who don’t actually make music.”
“That sounds miserable.”
“It was. Until right now.”
She doesn’t respond to that. No smile in her voice. No teasing. Just silence.
“Delilah? You sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah. Just tired. Long day at the shop.”
I want to push. Something feels wrong. But I don’t know how to ask “what’s wrong” when she’s already said nothing is.
“Where are you?” I ask instead.
“Home. Mom made dinner.”
No mention of Eleanor eavesdropping. No warmth. Just short answers.
“I missed you today,” I say. “Which is stupid because I’ve only been gone one day.”
A pause. Then, softer: “Imissed you too.”
There she is. For just a second, she sounds like herself again.
Then she asks, “So what did they want? At the meeting?”
I take a breath. “The usual. New album. Tour. And they want me to do a duet with Mia Monroe.”
Silence. A long one.
“Mia Monroe?” she asks. Her voice has gone even flatter.
“Yeah.”
“She’s…really famous.”
