CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
jake
Curledup with a blanket on the black leather couch in my home studio, Kate’s a vision of comfort and beauty as she waits for me to play a few songs for her. I’m freaking out and sweating bullets. I’ve alluded to how she’s inspired my music, but I may have left out how the entire album is focused on our relationship—the impact she’s had on me. And I’m not quite sure how she’s going to take this news.
I fiddle with my equipment, delaying the inevitable a few more minutes because if she’s not on board with the direction of the album, I’ll have to scrap it. Start completely over with very little time, but I’m more than willing to do that for her. Although sharing aspects of my life through music is what I’ve always done, it’s no longer just about me anymore. What she needs comes first, before everything, especially my career. I don’t want to do anything that jeopardizes what we have. What we are.
“Are you nervous?” Kate asks, staring at me lovingly from the couch.
“Yeah. This is all new for me.” I pull on the back of my neck, trying to ease the tension building in my muscles. “I’m used toplaying songs for my team and the label, not for the woman who’s inspired them.”
She cocks her head slightly, confusion written across her face. “I highly doubt I’ve inspiredeverysong. But I will admit it’s nice to know I’m your muse for at least a few of them.”
I swallow hard, not contradicting her statement because she needs to hear them to truly comprehend where this album is headed. To understand why this is the best work of my career. Why this album is a love letter to us. To our past and our future.
“Definitely more than a few,” I murmur, queuing up the songs in the order I want to play them. The ones I’m confident will be on the album and convey the overall vibe and story of this chapter of my music. “I’m going to play five songs, and I’d like you to wait until the end before you say anything. Is that okay?”
“Sure, babe. Whatever you want. I’m not sure how helpful my feedback will be since music is not my area of expertise,” she replies, bringing her legs to her chest. “I’m really excited to hear what you’ve been working on. I feel super privileged to get a sneak peek at your new music.” She winks and smiles at me, chipping away at my nervousness because, after all, she’s Kate. One glance from her soothes my soul in a way I didn’t know was possible.
“Okay. Here we go.” I press the button, and the music pipes in through the speakers. From the swivel chair near the mixing board, I intently watch her to see if I can get any hint of her reaction. A crumb of how she might be feeling about the content. The deeper meaning of what I’m saying in them.
And she has her face on lockdown. Why is today the day she finally can control her facial expressions? The one time I’m itching to know what’s going on in her mind as each song plays.
When the last song ends, an eerie quietness overtakes the room, making my breathing sound more labored than itprobably is. There’s no reaction, almost like she’s stunned into silence.
Fuck. This can’t be a good sign.
Maybe I shouldn’t keep staring at her. Give her a couple of minutes to process what she’s heard and how she feels about it. That’s what I’ll do.
I turn the chair around to face the mixing board, slouching and leaning my head back. This is not what I anticipated.
Fuck. I don’t know what I expected now that I think about it.
Was this all too much, too soon?
She’s already dealing with increased scrutiny on her life, thanks to dating me, and stupid me thought it’d be a good idea to put more of a spotlight on us by making the entire album an ode to our love.
What the fuck was I thinking?
I tug hard at the ends of my hair, running my hand through it multiple times as if it’ll somehow ease my growing anxiety.
Fuck it.
After getting up, I start pacing, constantly looking at the floor, not wanting to disrupt her. She deserves to have all the time in the world to determine how she feels about what she just heard. To determine whether she’s comfortable sharing more of our story with the world.
It hits me square in the chest. How big an ask this is. How I’m asking her to open up her life to my fans and all the haters. Why would anyone be willing to do that if they didn’t have to? It’s second nature to me because my music has always been an expression of my life. I wanted a public career. To chase stardom. She didn’t.
My face falls realizing what I’ve done. The position I’ve put her in.
How could I be so dense?
“Kate, I?—”
She holds up a hand, a silent request for me to stop speaking.
I clench my fists against the side of my leg, angry at myself for what I’ve done. What I’ve risked for some stupid songs. My mind flashes back to the last time I did something similar—when I asked her to travel with me full-time only a few months after we started dating. It was a knee-jerk reaction to not wanting to be apart from her, and it caused Kate to realize she needed space to focus on herself. The four months we were broken up were the most miserable of my life. I was terrified I had lost her for good before finally winning her back after playing a surprise song about us at the CMAs.
Holy shit. What if this pushes her away again? What if she doesn’t want any more of her private life to be out in the public domain? A queasiness grows in my stomach as I fight back the urge to throw up.
