Page 42 of The Song We Lost

The fucker grins...

Dave is somewhere in the background talking to Noah, still reading out loud...

"Bailey... a little birdie told me it's your birthday."

The crowd erupts again and I can see her pushing down the pain... I can see her physically swallowing it while she smiles and the band and crowd sing to her.

"How lucky are we that we get to celebrate your birthday with you!"

A look passes over her face so quickly I almost miss it and then the mask is on and she looks at Jackson with a megawatt smile and says "There's no place I’d rather be."

No place I’d rather be.

No... fuck....FUCK....

And then she starts to sing.

Not alone.

Withhim.

The sound of her voice with someone else harmonizing hits me like a punch.

It shouldn’t.

It’s music.

It’s her job.

But it feels like betrayal because I don’t get to share that space with her anymore.

Because I threw it away.

My hands shake so hard I....

My eyes flick to the envelope on the table.

The words echo in my head:You’ve been served.

I stumble toward it like I’m moving through water.

My fingers tear it open. Paper slides out that are filled with legal language.

Our names…

Dates.

Petition for divorce.

The words blur, then burn. I drop the papers like they’re hot.

“No,” I whisper.

My voice cracks. “No... no... no.”

Noah’s face is stone.

I look at him, panic ripping through me. “Noah, what the fuck...”