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I lean forward, praying he says yes. Bobby will be so happy!
I know I thought he might leave me if he made it big, but I can’t care about that anymore. I can’t be that selfish, not even this one time. After seeing his disappointment at not getting the deal, all I want is for him to get his dream.
And I’ve felt his love, know the depth and intensity of it. We can make this work. I know we can. He can have the deal and I can have him. I’m sure of it. Any doubts I had left floated away as he sang those lyrics tonight, proclaiming loud and clear that he wanted that deal for us. Not just himself.
Jeremy’s brows jump up his impossibly unlined forehead. “Offer a deal? Change my mind?” He’s silent for a moment, looking at me then over his shoulder to Bobby.
“I hear hundreds of singers every year, you know? I hit every dive bar, club, and county fair concert in towns all over the country. I watch YouTube videos and shitty TikToks of people who can’t sing their ABCs with decent pitch. I have never seen anyone like that guy up there.” He tilts his head toward the stage.
“Then why didn’t—”
He cuts me off. “I didn’t tell him this, but I offered him a better deal than any artist who’s sat at my table, knowing he would be worth it in the long run. Told him we’d get a band to back him up, give him an image that’d let him have the sort of fun kids like him dream of. All he had to do was ditch the girl. You.”
“Me?” I stammer, not understanding.
Jeremy looks me up and down again. “I don’t get it. You don’t seem all that special. But shit, you have some magic hold on him, don’t you?”
It’s starting to click together—Bobby’s grumpy mood, his passionate lovemaking, his telling me how much he loves me over and over. He was doing it to reassure himself that he’d made the right choice.
They offered him a record deal, but he chose me over his dream. His dream!
And he hid it from everyone, especially me.
“You offered him a deal,” I summarize.
“I damn near laid out a silver platter for him,” Jeremy bites out. “And he just walked away.” He waves a hand, obviously still in shock that anyone would do that.
This is what Bobby has dreamed of since he was a kid. It’s what his family needs. It’s what he desperately wants. Before he went to Nashville, he told me how it seemed like something impossibly good might actually happen for him for once.
Sure, he loves me . . . now. But what if he starts to resent me, hate that he gave this up for . . . me? Some nothing-special girl who showed up at a bar a couple of months ago. He can’t give up everything for me.
Time shouldn’t matter. You can know someone your whole life and barely scratch the surface of who they are or meet someone and know them bone deep in a matter of seconds. I believe soulmates can be like that. But can we be soulmates if it means him losing everything he’s worked for his whole life? I’m just not worth that.
I swallow the bile that’s trying to rise up as my heart shatters into a million pieces. I know what I have to do. It’ll kill me. It’ll hurt Bobby. But the sacrifice of my own happiness is worth his. When he said he didn’t get the deal, I thought I would do anything to change that. In this moment, I know that’s absolutely the truth. Anything.
“Is that deal still on the table? Would you still sign him to NCR Records?”
“Fuck yes. That’s why I came here tonight, to talk some sense into him.”
I shake my head. “Don’t. Let me talk to him. Please.”
Jeremy looks at me, sees the tears in the corners of my eyes, then back to Bobby, who’s singing his closing song.
“Don’t fuck this up for him. He’s special—better and bigger than you and me and this whole podunk town.” He looks around the bar, and I can tell he doesn’t see the blood, sweat, and tears that go into keeping this place open. He doesn’t see the history inside these walls or feel the love they hold. He certainly doesn’t understand this town or how the people here are welcoming and supportive, even their gossip mostly coming from a place of love because they care about one another.
But he sees what Bobby could be, and that’s all I need him to recognize.
With that, he swallows the Johnnie Walker in one gulp, gives me a hard glare, and strides straight for the door.
My eyes are drawn to the stage, to Bobby. He’s listening to someone in the audience intently. He nods, smiling, and begins one more song. An encore request.
