Page 28 of Beneath a Tennessee Sky

“Ugh,” I groan, turning away. “Stop thinking about it.”

Max looks up from his bowl, tilting his head like he’s judging me. “What?” I say defensively. “You think I’m being dramatic?”

He blinks slowly and goes back to eating.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” I mutter, heading for the bathroom.

The shower is my escape. I crank the water as hot as I can stand it and step under the spray, letting it wash over me. Steam fills the tiny room. Fall is in the air and soon, it’s going to be cold mornings. Cold, lonely mornings.

I close my eyes and tell myself to stop it. I can’t be sad. He’s achieving his dreams. If I loved him, I would be happy for him. I did love him. Although, it is growing more difficult to acknowledge that love. How can I love someone I haven’t seen in forever? Someone who hasn’t said he loved me.

I push away the thoughts. I have to be patient. I’ll give it a couple more months. If Jack doesn’t call for me, I will have to accept it’s over. He’s doing what he needs to. I will have to move on. If you love something, you set it free.

I’m letting him go free.

I get dressed, putting on a warm sweater with a comfy pair of jeans. I know my parents are expecting me at their place. We’ll have dinner and Mom will have made my favorite chocolate cake. I putter around the house but I can’t seem to ignore those flowers.

The phone rings at exactly noon.

It’s Jack. At least he kept his promise to call. “Hi,” I answer.

“Happy Birthday, baby!”

I smile. “Thank you.

“Do you love them?”

“Yeah,” I say. “They’re huge.”

“Aren’t they great? Liz helped me pick them out. Said nothing but the best for my girl.”

I swallow hard. “That was nice of her.”

I’m not surprised in the least Liz was involved. My eyes go to the flowers and I hate that I hate them. He sent them because he wanted to do something nice for me. And they are nice, but they feel tainted.

“So listen,” he says, and I can hear the grin in his voice, “I was thinking—once we wrap recording next month, maybe you could come down? You have to see this penthouse.”

The excitement in his voice is contagious, and for a second, I let myself imagine it—walking into his arms in some glittering Memphis high-rise, seeing his face light up the way it used to when I’d surprise him at the bar.

Then reality crashes back.

“Yeah, we’ll have to plan something,” I say.

“We’re finishing the record and then there’s going to be a huge promotional push,” he says. “They said this is the fastest they’ve ever produced a record. I got almost all the songs I wanted on it. We had to cut a few, but I’m cool with it.

“That’s amazing, Jack,” I say, trying to match his enthusiasm, but my voice sounds hollow even to me. “I’m so proud of you.”

He doesn’t seem to notice the strain in my tone. “You wouldn’t believe the studio, Jinnie. It’s insane. Like all this equipment and the microphones. And Dex is a genius. He’s worked with everyone. Everyone. You know that song we were working on? He took it and made it a hundred times better! I can’t wait for you to hear it!”

“Sounds like you’re in good hands,” I say. Max jumps up beside me on the couch, nudging my hand with his head. I scratch his ears absently.

“Yeah, it’s wild,” Jack continues, his words tumbling out in a rush. “Liz says they’re planning a big release party for the single. There’ll be press, industry people—it’s going to be huge. I meet with a stylist tomorrow. They have a suit they want me to try on.”

I swallow hard, picturing him in a suit I’ve never seen, surrounded by people I don’t know. “Sounds fancy.”

Someone murmurs in the background. Liz, probably.

“Shit, Jinn, I gotta run. Studio time’s expensive, you know?” His laugh is nervous. “But happy birthday. I’ll see you soon.”