“That’s all well and good, but people are now crawling out of the woodwork, including my old label, journalists—there’s a lot of shit for me to navigate and I’m busy. I’ve got two jobs at the moment. I don’t have time to deal with this kind of scrutiny. And now I can’t tell my girlfriend that I’ve been mulling over a new opportunity—she’s going to see it everywhere before I have the chance.”
“I apologize for that. I didn’t realize you and Wynter hadn’t discussed it.”
“We’re busy!” I snap. “And this isn’t the kind of thing I can send a quick text about. I was waiting for her to get here. She arrived last night, and after the gig we were both exhausted. It was supposed to be a conversation over breakfast but there was an issue with a delivery that I had to handle. Meanwhile, my phone literally has not stopped buzzing with notifications.”
“Just ignore them. You don’t have to do anything today. Focus on the tour and what you’re doing. Talk to Wynter. We’ll make sure security is tighter than ever for the next couple of shows so who gets backstage is pre-approved. Okay?”
What can I say other than yes?
As much as it irks me in this instance, Sasha knows what she’s doing. She runs Onyx Knight—and the label’s other bands—seamlessly. Nothing falls through the cracks. She and her mother have more money than they’ll ever spend so they don’t do this to get rich. They do it because they love the music.
I have to remember that.
They wouldn’t have offered me anything if they didn’t believe in me.
Too bad I’m having so much trouble believing in myself.
“Ross?”
“Yeah, I’m good. Listen, I have to go.” I disconnect and head back up to the room, hoping beyond hope that Wynter is still asleep and hasn’t been online yet.
She’s sitting at the table when I walk in, breakfast in front of her, a cup of what I assume is coffee in her hand.
She glances up with a soft smile. “Good morning.”
“Hey, baby.” I walk over and lean down, kissing her softly. Lingering. Like it might soften whatever frustration or anger she’s feeling.
“There’s coffee and pastries,” she says.
“Not hungry.” I sink into the chair across from her. “But I’ll have some coffee.” I pour myself a cup. “Have you been online?”
“I have.” She takes a bite of a croissant.
I can’t tell if she’s mad or worried or something else.
“You upset with me?”
She shakes her head but it’s a tentative motion, like she’s almost mad but is waiting for a conversation first. “Is there a reason you didn’t tell me?”
“I was waiting for some down time. In person. It didn’t feel like a phone conversation.”
“And last night we were tired.” She nods, nibbling on the croissant.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you right away. I’m trying to wrap my head around the idea of another album. A new band. Leaving my secure, cushy job with Onyx Knight to start over. I’m forty-two, Wynter. This isn’t the time of life for that kind of thing.”
“Is there a specific time of life for it, though? I mean, yes, your twenties were more ideal, but you experienced a terrible, tragic loss. Maybe this is fate telling you it’s time to let go of the past and focus on your future.”
“Why do you sound like signing on for another album is a done deal?”
“Isn’t it?”
“No. I could also do the thing where I just open for them as myself. No record deal, a nice salary, and no pressure.”
“Would you want to do that?” She doesn’t seem convinced.
“There’s a lot to consider. If I decide to recreate myself as a solo artist and do the album, it will mean a lot of sacrifice for us as a couple.” I explain the financial details.
Big hazel eyes zoom in on mine.
