Page 5 of Songs for Libby

He downed half of it and then took a couple bites before smashing his fork into the mashed potatoes. “I know you don’t want to be here, Libby. It’s okay if you go.”

“Just eat the food.”

He didn’t argue anymore, and ten minutes later he wandered back to his room, not bothering to close the door. I heard him hit the mattress, and the sound of his quiet snoring followed a few minutes later.

That’s when I let myself cry.

♪♫♪

After I’d cried myself out and decided that calling to blather to my father was a very bad idea, I was left with a decision. I could call a car and go back to my place, but if I did that I wouldn’t be able to sleep, because I’d be worrying about Sean waking up on time, making his flight, being presentable, eating. Everything.

So instead I raided his luggage for a t-shirt and another pair of athletic shorts, brushed my teeth with my finger, and crawled into his huge bed.

I wanted to be mad. I was mad. Furious. But I was also sorry—so, so sorry—for the part that I had played in getting him here. So I would continue to pay my penance. I would continue to care more than was healthy.

I stared into the darkness, cataloging all my bad decisions until Sean rolled over, his arm flapping onto my stomach and practically knocking the wind out of me. I pushed his arm off and rolled away until I was hugging the edge of the mattress. Then I went over the morning schedule in my head, over and over until I bored myself to sleep.

I woke up to the sight of Sean standing at the side of the bed, looming over me. I jerked awake and rolled to my back. “Geez! You scared me.”

“Sorry,” he said with the smile that I loved, the one that said he was sober and happy to see me. “I’m just not used to waking up to a woman in my bed.”

At least there was that. As much as I hated that Sean had fully embraced the total inebriation that was stereotypical of so many celebrities, he’d never been a womanizer.

I looked at his eyes, which were blessedly clear. “Do you have a headache?”

“I woke up in the middle of the night and downed another bottle of water and some painkiller.” He lifted one shoulder. “I should be fine.”

“In that case”—I pushed the covers off and sat up—“I’ll let you take care of yourself.” He let out a little snicker, which brought my attention back to him. “What?”

He grinned. “You look good in my clothes.”

I glared. “Do you remember what happened last night?”

The grin slipped and he shoved a hand into his hair. “Yeah. I think. Most of it.”

“Well,” I continued in what he had dubbed my I’m-going-to-kill-you whisper. “When you have something worthwhile to say about that whole debacle, you let me know.”

“Libby,” he begged.

“Seriously,” I said while brandishing a finger at him. “I want you to think before you speak to me again.”

“I’m leaving town today.”

“I know, Sean,” I said, my frustration leaking through. “Randy gave me the schedule so that I could make sure you follow it.” I walked toward the bathroom where I had left my dress hanging over the shower door. “I should start charging them an hourly rate for keeping you in line.” I turned in the bathroom doorway to lance him with a glare. “Maybe then I could finally pay off my student loans.” I slammed the bathroom door and quickly changed out of his clothes and back into my dress. I’d spent an entire day looking for this dress. I’d been looking forward to my date with Jonas for a week and a half. And now he probably wouldn’t speak to me again.

I left Sean’s clothes on the floor, which was once again spiteful and pointless. No doubt a maid would pick them up for him. Then I realized he’d have to leave before a maid could come through, and I allowed myself a smug smile.

When I opened the door, he was blocking the way, his hands leaning on either side of the doorframe. “So let me hire you.”

I rolled my eyes and ducked under his arm. “Not interested. I’m already tearing my hair out having to deal with you once in a while. How quickly do you think it would kill me to watch you self-destruct all the time?”

“I don’t do that all the time,” he defended himself.

“Could have fooled me,” I said to the room at large as I looked for my purse. I found it under one of the couch pillows. I pulled out my phone and ordered an Uber.

“Maybe if you came around more often, you’d see me when I’m actually in a good place instead of only showing up when Randy begs you.”

“That’s funny. I must have missed all the invitations you sent my way.” It was true that I didn’t come around much anymore. Call it self-preservation. I used to be there with him all the time, every step of the way. I had let his life consume mine for quite a while, until I realized that while he was soaring, I was going nowhere. I’d had to pull back. I had to focus on school, then I had to get a job and my own place and live my own life. Even then, I had seen him constantly. But then the drinking started and it had escalated so quickly. I did what I could to keep him away from it, but unless I’d been willing to babysit him constantly, there was no changing it. Watching him implode had sent me into survival mode, separating myself from him even more, but always willing to come running if he called. That’s the position I’d been stuck in ever since.