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She thanks us and hangs up. We look at each other and break into quiet squeals, stirring a group of people on the street corner. Of course, we’ve talked about it, but I honestly thought it would take longer for them to get engaged. They seemed content with how they were, living at Maxwell Ranch.

“I should go back,” I say.

I’m not sure I want to, but I think Sabrina most likely wants me around. And…it might be better for me to put a little more distance between New York and the coast of Maine.

“Whatever you want,” Mom says, but I can tell she’s disappointed.

“I’ll be there for a few months, then I’ll be back,” I promise.

She hugs me, and I hold her close for a minute. When she steps aside, she tucks my hair behind my ear.

“My girls are so grown up,” she whispers.

Her chin quivers.

“Mom,” I say. “Everyone is happy. Everything is fine.”

She waves a hand, swinging her bag over her shoulder. “I know, but I’m just so proud of you both.”

Sometimes, it’s hard to know what to say when she says things like that. It’s loaded, given that we didn’t grow up here with her and Hugh. As I climb into the car, I’m determined she gets some of that time back, especially now that Sabrina is getting married.

I’ll be back by autumn, I think. The rest of summer at the ranch, figuring out wedding planning, sounds nice. But maybe autumn in the city would help me get my head on straight.

At least, I hope so.

That night, I pack all my things in anticipation of my early morning flight. I don’t take everything; some of my heavier hoodies and jackets I leave here for when I return. Inside, I’m a tiny bit disappointed in myself. I came all this way to start fresh, and all I did was fuck Jamie Iron a dozen times, crash and burn over my future, and run back home to my mother. Now, I can’t even stay in New York because he’s close. By leaving some of my things, it makes me feel like I’m not throwing in the towel.

I’m not giving up.

Really, I’ll be back. I feel it in my bones, even if I can’t visualize it yet. And maybe I’ll start posting some covers online. Even if it doesn’t go anywhere, it’ll be good for me to do something new—something brave.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

JAMIE

I’m having trouble looking at Madi Banker as my client and not seeing every potential threat that’s come up in my career. I’m overthinking and tense when I show up to their house the next day for our meeting with her producers. At least, one of them. If I’d had the time, I’d have brought in Marion on this, as Madi’s surrounded by men, and I’d like a woman advocating for her as well.

The co-producer is standing in the drive when I pull up and park. I offer him my hand, and he shakes it, a little cold.

“Are you… Sorry, who are you?”

“Iron Talent Agency,” I say. “Jamie Iron.”

Right away, his demeanor changes. “Oh, right, so sorry. I know you. I just blanked for a second. How’re you doing? Dave Manning.”

“Good, I’m here to make sure everything goes smoothly with the tour planning,” I say.

Dave sizes me up. I’m hoping he doesn’t piss me off today because I’m in a particularly touch-and-go mood.

“Alright, let’s head inside,” I say.

I let us both into the kitchen after knocking. Madi appears in the living room with an iced coffee in hand. She’s looking a little better today. At least, her eyes aren’t as tired.

“Hey,” she says, crossing into the kitchen. She offers her hand to Dave. “How’re you, Mr. Manning?”

He gives her a brisk handshake before setting his bag on the table and looking around. “Where’s your father?”

Her face falls, but she covers it. “He’s upstairs. He’ll be just a minute.”