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“You really are a brilliant artist,” Maeve whispered beside me.
I draped my arm around her shoulder. “I can’t believe Brie was almost sort of a fan.”
Maeve smiled. “She’d be a fool not to be.”
And for a moment, the sparkle in her eye made me think she was talking not just about my music, but about me. As a person. And it felt good. Really good. And it made me wish she could be mine for good.
If only we had more time,I thought, my heart sinking. If only things were different.
But there wasn’t more time, and things weren’t different. Worse, I knew what if only meant. If only was a phrase that haunted me my whole life, a phrase that always crossed my mind right before I blew it.
If only.
That’s where I always got stuck.
