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Well, sure, it’s new. Since you’re usually hiding behind Van. He wanted to come off as nonchalant, totally chill, but she knew him. And his tone was flat. “Okay, well, I’m really proud of you, and you blew everyone else away.” She was still riding on the beauty of his melodies, the achingly poignant lyrics. “I want the whole world to hear your songs.”
“Well, with some vocal work, I might get there one day.” He made it sound like a joke, but she caught the bitter undertone.
“Oh, come on. We can look him up and see which ‘artists’ he represents. Trust me on this, he’s got no one at your level.”
The vacant look in his eyes scared her. “The car’s on its way.”
She didn’t want him hurtling back in time, all the way back to high school when he’d had to ignore the kids throwing coins at him and breaking into song when he entered the cafeteria, so she reached for his hand, as if she could keep him tethered to this moment with her. She needed to remind him of his one-of-a-kind talent. “I’m serious, Bex. In that one set, you made me cry, you made me laugh, and you made me swoon. Your songs are brilliant. I was watching everyone in the room, and I’m telling you, no one could take their eyes off you.”
“Stop.” He gave her a hard look. “I don’t need to be coddled. Let’s go back to the hotel.”
Della had slept so soundly she hadn’t even heard Bex get up.
The sound of water spattering over the tile had her rolling onto her back. What’s he doing? He’d showered before bed last night.
We’re on vacation. She’d expected lazy mornings.
Fear yanked the thread of tension running through her body, jerking her upright. The whole way back to the hotel, he’d been quiet. She’d tried to talk to him, but he’d sworn he was fine. That he’d learned years ago to tune out the audience.
He’d given her the right words. Art’s subjective and People view it through the lens of their experience. Delivered like a customer service rep who’d memorized his lines.
Even if he couldn’t admit it to himself, he was hurting, and she needed to make him feel better. She’d just gotten out of bed, ready to hug the disappointment right out of him, when she saw his phone vibrating on the nightstand.
She could see the first few sentences of a text.
Martin: Reid’s in. We’re good to go. Let me know if we’re keeping Della or if you want someone new.
A low-level thrum of anxiety kicked up her pulse.
Martin didn’t know they’d gotten together, so of course he’d only see her as a temporary assistant. Someone easily replaceable. That’s okay. It’s not like Bex had written it.
It was just…keeping Della? It sounded so impersonal.
Worse, it was obviously a response to something Bex had sent. Something that had prompted Martin to wonder whether Della was moving forward with them.
Right. Probably because we’re lovers now, and I can’t work for him anymore. Of course, he needs someone new.
Wait, if he’s retiring, why does he need an assistant?
The water shut off, and she was a little too anxious to go talk to him, so as she waited for him to come into the bedroom, she reread the message one more time, trying to figure out its meaning.
Stop making things up. Wait until you talk to him.
He came out with a white towel wrapped around his hips, and her heart twisted. This man…he was the missing piece of her soul. The restless longing that had driven her to write poems disappeared when they connected. She could feel him deep down. He connected with her very essence.
He’s mine.
Whatever he’s going through right now, we’ll get through it.
With a second towel, he dried his hair. Watching her carefully, he lowered his arms. “What’s wrong?”
She wasn’t going to play games. “Martin texted.”
His features tightened, and he made a grab for the phone. With narrowed eyes, he read the message. When he finished, the lines of tension on his face relaxed, and he tossed the phone onto the bed.
“What’s going on?”
“I’m going back into the studio.”
