The brakes are screaming
Let’s lean into the spin
We’re a beautiful disaster
Neither of us can win
That bittersweet note continues into the bridge as they keep singing together.
Are we a dead end?
A cliffside with a broken rail
Let’s keep the engine running
Pretend we’re a fairy tale
It’s almost done, but Marlowe has one last move up her sleeve. On the last hook, that bitch grabs Jace’s baseball cap and turns it around on his head. She keeps her arm draped around his shoulder, and he gives her a crooked grin that makes me want to vomit. My thumb finds my wedding band on the wrong hand.
Red light, red flag
What’s the difference, baby
We’re bad for each other
And this crash is gonna be crazy
Now I’m the one trying not to cry. Because I gave Jace the green light to perform this song with Marlowe tonight.
But it’s clear this entire situation is a giant red flag.
36
RORY
Women bustlearound me as I stare at my blotchy reflection in the mirror. I’m holed up in one of the stadium bathrooms because I’m too raw to see Jace at the VIP signing table.
“Are you okay?” a girl asks me, and I sniffle and nod.
I ignore the buzzing phone in my pocket and splash more water on my face. When I look up, I feel bad for the woman in my reflection. Raccoon eyes stare back, red and devastated. My ponytail droops.
Here’s the truth. Jace is way the hell out of my league.
That’s why Frank said no one would believe we’re really together. Because Jace is a music god, and I’m me.
I’m not saying I don’t have strengths or skills. I’m a damn good librarian. I’m great with kids. And apparently, I’m pretty decent at this whole social media thing. Looks-wise, I’m pretty. I have an okay figure. I’m in shape from running all over kingdom come on this tour while hauling a one-year-old.
But when I saw Marlowe up on that stage tonight with Jace, looking like a beautiful avenging angel out to get her man back, I fully grasped that I’ll never be able to compete.
This is why I swore I’d never fall for a guy like Jace again. Because the highs are incredible, but the lows are really fucking bad. And what did I do? Dive headfirst into this fake relationship like I have no sense or self-preservation.
If Marlowe is Jace’s red light, he’s my addiction, a sweet drug I know I need to quit.
I pump out some paper towels and wipe my eyes. This is stupid. I never should’ve agreed to come on this tour.
Am I overreacting? Maybe. But I can’t control how I feel even though I’m desperately trying to get a grip on my emotions.
Layla calls out to me, and I kneel next to her stroller and take off her headphones. “Honey, are you hungry? Do you want to eat?”
