“You’re a good egg, kid.”
My phone rings, and when I see Dad flash on the screen, I send him to voicemail. He’s just calling about Taylor’s stupid wedding to my stupid ex.
And while coming on tour with Jace solved my immediate financial and housing crisis, I have no idea how to explain any of this to my family.
Do I really have to tell them anything if this marriage will be over by the fall?
23
RORY
With a howl,Layla kicks and laughs. I duck by the side of the bed and pop up again. “Rawr.”
“Mamamama!”
I plop down next to her and grab her small hand. “I wish I was your mama. When you get older, we’d have tea parties and ride ponies and have picnics.”
I’ve been on this tour for two seconds, and I already know that if Jace doesn’t break my heart by the end, Layla will do the honors. Because this little girl has me wrapped around her finger.
I stand her up and hold her by both hands so she can bounce. “Let’s count to ten.” On the last bounce, I gently topple her onto the bed, and she giggles. “You have to count, Layla. This is too much work for me. Ready? One.” I wait for her to join me.
“Wa, tuuu, teee, ohhhh…”
“Good job! You’re so smart. Can you do that again? I want to get it on video for your dad.” I flip on the camera and start counting. She’s so freaking cute.
After I send it to Jace, who headed off this afternoon to meet up with a merch guy, I realize it’s getting late. “Let’s get you dressed for that dinner.”
I ignore the familiar wave of anxiousness that erupts in my stomach every day when I have to disembark the bus. The shows are getting easier because no one pays attention to me in the crowd. It’s when I have to interact and be social that I wish I was more extroverted. Sometimes I feel like a houseplant that accidentally got set out in the middle of a rave.
Jace has been really busy today dealing with merch and pricing new stuff, which is good because I feel bad about last night. He wasn’t doing anything wrong, but I was jealous about groupies sitting too close to my fake husband.
I should definitely invest in some therapy when I get home.
I’m hoping I can avoid him until I can regain some equilibrium. I’d love nothing more than to hole up in this bedroom until this tour is over, but I made a promise to Frank. Even though he seemed dismissive when I first met him, since the tour started, he’s always happy to see me, and I appreciate how hard he works and how much he loves this band.
After I get the baby dolled up in a cute dress because I need to do her laundry, I debate what to wear, finally opting for a tank top and jeans. I also go with contacts because they’re easier when I’m hauling Layla around. The humidity makes my glasses slide down my nose.
And since Frank seemed to think the dinner was a big deal, I grab my new makeup and spend a little time on my eyes and lips. But when I’m done, I realize how plain my outfit looks, so I change into a sheer flowy shirt that I slide over my black bikini top.
Because nothing says dressed up like a spandex swimsuit, right? But the dark colors seem to work, and I don’t have time to debate my outfit any longer. I toss on my jewelry and head out.
Edmond helps me get Layla and her stroller down the stairs. “Thanks.” I squint at the directions on my phone. “I think the restaurant the guys are going to is that way.” I point and he frowns.
“Jace will have my ass if you end up on the wrong side of town.” He turns me so I’m facing the opposite direction. “See those industrial buildings? That’s where you want to go.”
“I get so turned around sometimes.”
“That’s what I’m here for.”
“Thanks, Edmond. I’ll call you on my way back after the show.”
“I’ll be waiting, miss.” I give him a look, and he chuckles. “Rory.”
“There you go.” As much as I love the baby sling, I don’t have the stamina to carry Layla around for hours in this heat. By the time I get to the restaurant, I wonder if my makeup has slid down my face. Before I go in, I wipe under my eyes so I don’t look like a raccoon.
The restaurant is housed in a huge warehouse, but as soon as you get inside, it’s dark and chic with high ceilings, low light, and music that pulses in the background. It’s a whole vibe.
Musicians I recognize stroll past me, and I’m about to follow them in, but the maître d’ stops me. “Ma’am, that’s a special event.”
