“He didn’t get invited to dinner,” Johnny pointed out.
“Not this time. Because we were there. But trust me, he’s invited to plenty of family functions. Even now that we’ve broken up, he’ll be around. My parents love him.” I almost bit my tongue. I felt bad I’d blurted that out, as if Johnny was my new boyfriend and that might make him feel like shit. I cleared my throat. “They like you, too.”
“They seem to like everyone.” He glanced at me, and I wasn’t sure how to read that look. “Especially Elle.”
“Yup.”
“Why do you downplay yourself?”
“Huh? I don’t.”
“You do, actually. You all talk about Elle like she’s the only one in the family with talent. Like there isn’t enough to go around or something?”
I thought about that.
Did I do that? Did they do that?
I watched Johnny as he drove, his eyes trained on the road ahead. He didn’t take his eyes off the road much. He seemed like an unusually tense driver, actually, which was curious since he’d insisted on driving tonight.
“Well,” I said, “Elle just had it, you know?It.She always had it, from a really young age.” I shrugged. “I could never catch up.”
“Says who?”
I laughed. “Says my eighth grade music teacher. He was so fucking disappointed when I turned out not to sound anything like my sister. It was comical.”
Johnny scowled, his eyes still on the road, like he didn’t believe I found that funny at all. “You don’t think you can play an instrument?”
“Nope.”
“Elle’s a strong vocalist. She’s sensational on bass. I have a hard time believing her sister has no affinity whatsoever for music.”
“Well, I don’t.”
“Because you never bothered?” he pressed.
“I bothered. I played a little piano as a kid. I liked to sing.”
“You have a good voice?”
“I’m okay.”
“Is that what people told you?”
“I mean, you can hardly blame them. They hear Elle sing. And then they hear me sing… Mom and Dad didn’t mean to single her out and make me feel lesser than. I know they didn’t. But it was kind of impossible for them not to. She was so good, and she went so far with it so young. There was a lot they had to do in the early days to support her so she could become who she is today. It was a priority in our house, supporting Elle’s talent. I was just…” I shrugged again. “Average.”
Wow.That seemed to really annoy him or something. His jaw ticked as he drove.
“That’s what you think of yourself? Average?”
“There’s nothing wrong with being average, Johnny O’Reilly,” I told him simply. But I still felt a little raw about it, deep inside—that there was nothing I could ever do to be as special as my sister because I just wasn’t born that way. Maybe I’d always feel raw about it. “We can’t all be rock stars.”
* * *
When we got home, Johnny walked me to Shayla’s front door. Same as last time, when he walked me here after Champagne. But this time it felt even more awkward.
Because I really wasn’t sure where I stood with him.
I’d set out on this night sure of where I stood. As his publicist.
