But they traded one happiness for another.
Shedid.
Momma always claims she had it all, that she got the best of both worlds—a career she loved and a family she loves more.
Sometimes, I’m afraid that the sacrifices I’m making will leave me with theworstof both worlds. No careerandno family.
I’m already being compared to Momma left and right, and if I flame out, I’ll be left without a career at all.
But if I keep forgoing any sort of relationships, I’ll be left without a family, too.
Yet, I’m forgoing relationships so I can build a career that won’t get taken from me?—
“You sure your head is feelin’ better, Lou Lou?” Momma asks.
I follow her gaze to my hands on my jaw, then drop them. I hadn’t even realized I was massaging the muscles there until she said something.
“I’m fine,” I tell her.It’s just hard watching you and Dad flirt like this was always Plan A instead of you making the best of Plan B. And it’s hard imagining that your Plan B might be better than anything I ever get, in spite of how hard I’m tryingto do everything right.“But I should go. I have a couple of interviews before sound check.”
“We’ll walk you out,” Nora says.
She calls for her husband and kids, and soon the entire family is escorting me to my bus like it’s my first day of school.
And I’m more nervous than any kindergartner.
Why am I nervous?
It’s a cold morning, and I can’t wait for the heat of the bus. The sun is barely kissing the tops of the trees. My family’s homestead is like something out of an Americana painting, and even more so with my beautiful mom and sisters, my handsome dad and brother-in-law.
My family is practically picture-perfect, and it’s not a lie.
It’s just not the whole story.
And I don’t know why that bothers me so much.
You can have it all, just not all at once.
As I step onto the tour bus, I have to wonder—how long will this choice last?
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
LOU
Once we’re at the venue, I head to my dressing room for back-to-back interviews and then up to the stage for sound check. Patty and I haven’t spoken since last night except for the bare minimum required for our jobs. The tension between us is thick, but I don’t know how to cut through it. I feel awkward around him, unsure what to say or how to act.
But I do know this—he’s become a distraction.
After wardrobe and a light dinner, I have half an hour before I need to get on stage. I try to read, but my book can’t keep my attention, so I switch over to socials and start scrolling.
I’ve been tagged in so many posts from the last few weeks, it’s impossible to look at them all. My social media manager is a wizard at creating posts in my voice, and Alicia and I keep sending her content from the tour bus and backstage so she can craft engaging, authentic posts.
I look through her most recent updates and see something that surprises me.
Connor Nash has commented on every post.
Every single one.
Hearts and heart-eyes. Comments about how he can’t wait to see me live. Over-the-top flirting that catches me completely off guard.
