One song bleeds into another and before I know it it is time to sing my new song.
The world thinks it was written about Mike Kerr when in truth, it's about Duncan.
"This song is going to be on the upcoming album and it’s calledMidnight Kissin'. I wrote this song while I was in that in-between place of meeting someone and trying to figure out if it was going anywhere. And as we find ourselves in that same space tonight, between two years, I hope you allow yourself some time forMidnight Kissin'. Here we go."
Chapter forty-three
Duncan
Fucking Meek Car
"Goshhe'sattractive."Josays as she sinks down on the sofa next to me with a bowl of popcorn.
We're gathered together for New Year's at Felix’s after our loss this afternoon and because I apparently haven’t reached my suffering threshold, I put on the Grand Ole Opry special.
Rhys's first three songs were older ones. I recognized them. Harper belted out every word behind me as she sipped on a margarita.
But this song is new.
He shared some of his new songs with me over the summer but I don’t recognize these lyrics.
Each one hits me like a sledgehammer and I remain ramrod straight as the couples around me sway and lean closer together.
It somehow feels familiar.
I have never craved familiar and comfortable more in my life. For the last month it has felt like a protective film has been peeled off my life.
Hotel bedsheets have felt scratchy. Food bland. Even Christmas Eve at Bryson and Jo’s was a little weird. He set up this elaborate mistletoe train. E.T. had to kiss Lydia and we found out some sixteen year old kid is being scouted hard by the organization.
He’s a center, Felix’s position.
But you don’t draft a kid straight out of high school not to start him.
Christmas Day at home with my family was fine. Typical festivities, plenty of gag gifts. The league gives us Christmas Day off so I flew up to Boston in the morning, and flew home at night to get ready for practice the next day.
But I felt hollowed out inside through it all.
I shouldn’t though. I shouldn’t be moping.
Rhys ended it.
I offered to keep fucking each other.
He was the one who left.
We were great at phone sex.
Rhys was the one who said he couldn’t go back.
And now I’m sandwiched between Jo and Caroline on Felix’s sofa as they swoon over his lyrics. Each word that passes his full lips devastates me.
They sound like us.
Could he be having regrets?
I'm not even embarrassed with how quickly I would forgive him and grovel for another chance.
"No way!" Harper yells from behind us. I turn in her direction but find her staring slack jawed at the T.V.
