Miranda laughed. “I haven’t mentioned him?”
“No! But, to be fair, I kinda blew in here like a hurricane and threw things off for everyone.”
“I wouldn’t go that far.”
The women stared at each other for a moment before laughing loudly.
“Okay, so spill,” Claire said. “Please. I need to hear about something other than all the problems in my life.”
“So we’ve been dating for a year. He knew when we met I travel with the band for these shows, and I guess he’s not handling it well? He keeps bringing up the guys and asking if any of them are hitting on me.”
“He sounds jealous.”
“Yes, he does. And I don’t like it. I don’t need some jealous man calling me constantly and giving me the third degree while asking about what I’ve been doing all night.”
Claire nodded. “What do you say when he asks?”
Miranda sighed and picked up the shirt she was working on and examined it. “I tell him the truth. I work during the day fixing wardrobe items and prepping them for the show and any media events. Then I throw outfits at the guys during wardrobe changes. Then I collect dirty laundry and get that taken care of before I pass out and start all over again the next day. And I try to scarf down meals between all that.”
Miranda dropped the shirt again and crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m just tired of it, you know?”
“Tired of doing the tour?”
“No. God, no. I love this. It breathes life into me. I’m tired of being grilled about everything I do when it rarely changes. It’s making me resent him.”
Claire nodded. “Is there anything I can do?”
Miranda stared at a spot on the wall for so long that Claire nearly waved a hand in front of her face to make sure she was still awake. Finally, she blinked and looked over at Claire.
“You actually already did.”
“I did?”
“You helped me decide.”
Claire’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh? Decide what, exactly?”
Miranda pulled out her phone, scrolled briefly, and took a deep breath before pressing a button and holding it up to her ear.
“I’m dumping him.”
Claire’s eyes widened. “You what? Don’t you want to think about it?”
“I already did.”
Miranda held up a finger to Claire that he had answered just as a knock on the door sounded. Claire rushed to the door.
“Who is it?” she asked.
“Ben.”
Claire pulled the door open, and Ben stepped inside.
“I just wanted to ask Miranda about—” He stopped abruptly when Miranda’s voice drifted over to them, and Claire’s eyes widened.
“—I think it’s best that we just end it now. Clearly, this will always be a problem. Yes, I’m sure. Uh huh. Okay. Bye,” Miranda said as she ended the call.
“Shit,” Claire muttered.
