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He’s been eating the cookies as well, maybe even more so than me. I have to tell him what’s happened.

“I need to go.”

I push past Harmony and fish my keys from my purse, hoping she will take the hint and leave me alone, but I can feel her eyes on my back as I unlock my door and open it.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” she says as I step inside. “I should have made sure that you knew. If it helps, I only use the highest-quality, organic ingredients.”

It does not.

I feel drained as I step into our apartment, so I am grateful to find it empty, leaving no reason why I can’t detour to my bed and crawl under the covers. At some point, I must fall asleep because when the front door bangs open, I awaken with a jolt until I hear Mackenzie’s voice, speaking from somewhere in the apartment.

“…Edwin, hey. Things are good, man. How are you?”

I roll over and blink until I’m fully awake and suddenly aware that the conversation has continued in the other room.

“…Actually, I’ve decided to leave the band,” Mackenzie says. “Zee is looking for a drummer, though. We’re playing the Rivoli tonight; if you know anyone, send them by…”

He sounds like he’s on the phone.

“Wow, congrats, man,” he continues. “If anyone deserves a deal, it’s you guys…”

The door to my bedroom is open, and I can hear every word as clear as a bell. I don’t think Mackenzie realizes I’m home since it’s the middle of the day, and I’m supposed to be at work. I almost feel like I’m eavesdropping on his conversation, so I sit up with the intention of making enough noise so that he realizes I am here. However, something in his tone makes me freeze.

“Are you serious?” His words come out loud and fast. “I mean, yeah, I definitely have a few songs that would work, and once I get a sense of the direction you want to go with the album, I’m sure I’ll have a few more. When do you need them by?”

It is so quiet in our apartment I can hear the other voice explaining something but can’t make any of it out.

“Oh, down in Nashville.” Mackenzie’s voice cuts in. “Yeah, you’re right…It’s easier to hear what’s working when we’re all in the same room. How long do you need me there for?”

Another beat.

“No, I get it. I’ve never made an album before, either.” He laughs. “Yeah, six months seems reasonable.”

Little black specks begin to form at the edges of my vision. They begin to multiply, and so I let my body collapse back into my pillow, no longer worrying if I’m making noise.

“Can I have a few days to think about it? I need to talk to Annalise.”

Pause

“February. Wow. Okay.”

He hangs up the phone, and the living room is again silent.

My mind, however, is a chorus of glaring alarm bells. Was that Edwin as in the Edwin from the Rydells? And he what? Wants Mackenzie to write for an album?

I don’t have time to even formulate theories before I hear the door to our apartment close, and I realize he’s left.

Although my vision has cleared, my heart is beating so hard and fast that I don’t trust myself to sit up again. Instead, I lie and stare at the ceiling feeling out everything that happened.

He got offered a job writing music for an album—this is his dream.

But down in Nashville—an entire ocean away from Liverpool.

My chest heaves with a pain that I haven’t felt in months but is all too familiar. It’s sharp at first, then leaves me feeling hollow, like everything good has been scooped out, and all that’s left is emptiness.

My brain is throwing out very rational reasons why this news doesn’t have to mean the end of us.

It’s not that long in the grand scheme of things.