Page 178 of Love Felt Like This

Royce sets down his bass with a shrug.

“We’ll get this, buddy,” he says.

“One day,” Poe says, unstrapping his guitar and then placing it on the stand. It wobbles a bit, and he steadies it. One look at my pinched face and he laughs. “Kidding! We will. I believe in you.”

They believe in me as much as they believe the world is flat—actually, the jury is out on Poe with that one—but they won’t say anything.

The door shuts behind Poe, and the dulled white noise that remains swallows me whole. I sit on the stool with my guitar resting on my knee, staring down at the sprawled-open notebook on the floor.

The lyrics taunt me. Words about wispy hair and green eyes. Smiles and gentle laughs. Memories of soft feathers waving in my face and syrupy pancakes under my nose.

Damn it, this can’t hold me back. Jimmy and the guys are counting on me to pull through. Technically, I have the songs written and ready to go. They aren’t how I imagined them, but who cares? That’s not the point.

The booth door swings open again, and Dom strolls in with a coffee. He sits on the stool beside me and hands me the cup. I take it, even though I’m on my third. Beverly’s habit must have rubbed off on me, I guess. It’s her unique version of being a bad influence. It almost makes me smile.

Dom kicks out one leg, then rests the other on the rung below. Dom and I have been working together since our days in Nashville, and with how he’s shifting uncomfortably in his chair, I know he’s about to be serious with me.

“I’m fine,” I say, cutting him off before he can ask.

“I was gonna say you look like shit, actually.” It’s gruff, rumbling in his throat like the tar of cigarettes once smoked remains part of him.

I run my palm over my beard. I haven’t trimmed it in days. “I’m just a little out of it.”

“We can tell.”

“Great. Thanks.”

“So. What’s going on?”

There’s a knock on the glass. I look up to see Poe bouncing Ava on his hip. She waves at me. I wave back as she shoves her face against the glass, leaving streaks of drool. Poe cackles at the same time the sound engineer tenses in his chair.

“Griffin,” Dom says, bringing me back. “Talk to me.”

“Man, I can’t think of anything else but Ava right now.”

I’ve got that girl to look out for. She’s in the public eye now. This media train is barreling down the tracks with no end in sight. She needs to be with me and having a good time—not worrying about the world. That’s my burden. And creating reliable music is what will get us through. Going on tour with her, trying every day to keep her laughing, will be what keeps us alive.

“I’m getting back to something normal,” I say. “The usual.”

“The usual,” Dom echoes.

I grunt out in affirmation. But the usual admittedly feels like something different now. The usual is coats and snow. Quilts and cartoons. Too much coffee and endless pancakes. I’ve tried to make us some, but they’re not as good as the Larks’. Even Poe can’t master a recipe. Ava is discerning now. She scrunches her nose and pushes the plate away, like she’s some flapjack connoisseur.

“The usual,” I repeat. “Music. Recording. Touring. That’s it.”

He adjusts in his seat and shrugs. “Well, you can’t have that. Not anymore. Not now that people know about Ava.”

“Yeah,” I say through an exhale. “I know.” I set my guitar to the side, stand, and begin pacing to who knows where.

“She’s in the spotlight, and now she always will be,” I say. “I’ll bring her on tours, and hopefully that’s normal enough. Hopefully she grows up with some semblance of what Robin wanted for her, but…God, who knows?”

“Well, Ava seems to be fine with everything,” Dom says.

“Robin didn’t want Ava to live like this,” I confess.

“She is, though. And that’s how it’ll be now.”

Robin wanted one thing. One thing.