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I stand, leaning across the table until we’re eye level. “I haven’t put my career on the line just for us to spend the next six weeks in silence or fighting.”

“Your career.” She purses her lips. “The career that you decided was more important than mine when you asked me to quit and tour the country with you? What was it you said? I could find work as an attorney anywhere?”

“Because you’re smart. You could pass the bar a million times over and practice all around the country. I was not dismissing your career.” My head drops as I calm myself. “I didn’t realize wanting my wife by my side was a crime.”

Hurt slashes across her face; the fight seeping out of her. “I don’t belong by your side. Not in your new life.”

“That isn’t true.” My body screams to hold her. “I understand a lot changed when I signed the contract, but can you really stand there and tell me the money and privileges this opportunity has given me haven’t changed our lives? We grew up with nothing, and we could have everything.”

“You’re right, it changed our life.” Her sad gaze cuts to the side and through my heart. “I miss our old life, and you couldn’t wait to erase it.”

I swallow the knot in my throat. “I don’t want to erase it. I just want us to have a better life. You deserve more than gas station wedding flowers and an apartment you couldn’t even swing a cat in. What’s so wrong with me wanting to give you those things?”

Whatever I said kills this short-lived date. She can’t even look at me as she mumbles, “I fucking loved those flowers,” before fleeing the restaurant.

I don’t chase after her and slump back into my chair, utterly defeated. The waitstaff watch on awkwardly through the glass partition, debating whether to deliver our food or not. I gesture for the bill.

I’m beginning to think I should’ve stayed away.

My phone rings, and I’m relieved to see it isn’t Howard or my mother.

“Vanessa.” I groan my agent’s name. “Please tell me you have good news.”

“Define good?” Her nails clack away on her keyboard, and I can picture the phone tucked between her shoulder and ear as she juggles a hundred different tasks at once. I lucked out with Vanessa, making up for Howard being my manager, and I truly believe she has my best interests at heart. She knows I’m unhappy at Vance Records, especially after the copyright saga.

“They’re not pleased about the six-week vacation, which doesn’t surprise me, but they want your guarantee you’ll have the second album ready to deliver when you return and…”

“Here we go.” I massage the bridge of my nose.

“They want an international tour,” she replies flatly. “They’re not going to budge.”

A frustrated growl tears up my throat, startling the poor server as she places my bill down. Sorry, I mouth, before lowering my voice and dropping my credit card on the table.

“Where are we on the contract?”

Her typing pauses. “It’s airtight. I’ll keep looking, but unless another copyright infringement lawsuit crops up, be prepared to fulfill the full term.”

Another year of being carted around the country—potentially the world.

I squeeze my eyes shut. “I don’t know if I have it in me.”

“You might need to find the energy or be lumped with a hefty penalty for failure to deliver.” Vanessa sighs. “I’ve got to ask again, Tate, but why did you sign the contract? You seem miserable.”

“Honestly?” I stare at the door Talia escaped through. “I’m starting to question it myself.”

“If it’s any consolation, you’re not the first dewy-eyed musician to think fame equals happiness. This isn’t forever.” Her words do nothing to appease me. “How are things going with Talia?”

“You do not want to know.” I rub at my forehead.

“That bad, huh? Well, it can’t be worse than having your hospital photos leaked all over the internet. Be thankful you were clothed.” I grimace at the reminder. “The rumors have died down since we put out a statement, and your donation to Epilepsy Alliance America has been well received.”

“I’ve been donating to them for months. Why do we need to make a big song and dance about it?”

“Because the public love a sob story, or one they can relate to. Now that the world knows you were diagnosed as a kid and are helping children like you, they’ve stopped spinning the rumor mill and are swooning over what a philanthropist you are.”

“It feels fake.”

“It’s business. It’ll blow over soon. Keep your head down and stay out of trouble.”