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She brightened. “Oh, God. I’m such an idiot. He said Reid’s in, so I thought…never mind. This is fantastic. You’re going to make an album of ballads? This is so great.” Maybe his brother would support him this time around.
“What? No.” Distracted, he pulled open a drawer and tossed all the shirts into the open suitcase.
“Wait, what’s going on right now?”
“We owe the studio one more record, and Reid’s down to do it.”
“I don’t understand. Neither of you wants to keep going. You both said you were done.”
“It doesn’t work like that. You don’t just decide to shut down an entire operation. We have obligations, contracts.” He scooped the boxer briefs out of the top drawer and threw them into the case.
“Can you stop packing for a second? What happened between last night and this morning that I missed?”
He sat on the edge of the mattress. “I couldn’t sleep.”
She moved closer to him, setting a hand on his back. “I didn’t know. Why didn’t you wake me?”
“I had a lot to work out.”
Well, that kicked her anxiety up to a whole other level. He didn’t want to work it out with her? “Okay. Help me understand your thought process because one of the first things you said to me is that you were so tired of ‘lying and hiding.’ And I was there when Reid said he’d only do it if you made him. Can’t you buy your way out of this contract?”
“Probably, but it’s not easy to do. They can take us to court, and it could get ugly. We’ve always honored our obligations, and it doesn’t sit right with me that we’d bail on the label.”
“I understand that, but when you weigh it out, you’re talking about your reputation versus Reid’s well-being.” And yours. She lifted both hands to mimic a scale. One palm sank far lower than the other.
“He’s fine with it because he wants to transition into the next phase of his life. Martin will slow down the tour schedule, so Reid will have time to wander around cities with his camera or whatever he decides to do.”
What is he talking about?“Van Claybourne can’t wander anywhere. He’d be recognized on the Yukon trail. But more importantly, he said it was impossible for him to be creative when he’s touring three hundred days a year.”
“You haven’t even known us a week, Della. You have no idea what’s involved in the Van Claybourne production. You don’t just decide one day to shut it all down. We’re talking about the livelihood of hundreds of people, licensing agreements…there are a thousand moving parts.” He strode into the bathroom and threw things into his toiletry bag.
Okay, he was running on fear. He’d exposed himself last night, and he’d gotten heckled. He’ll calm down. He’ll come back to me. She followed him into the bathroom and set a hand on his shoulder, ready to comfort him. He flinched.
Well, hell. It was like he’d flipped a switch, reverted to the man she’d met that first morning on the bus. “And what about us?”
He caught her gaze in the mirror. “What about us?”
He’d lived in the shadows for so long, he thought nobody noticed his tells. He was wrong. “I know you, and I know I’m not talking to Bexley Sinclair right now. I’m talking to the guy who hides on the bus while his brother performs his songs.”
Anger wrenched his features. He zipped the toiletry bag and spun around, moving out of the bathroom in a cloud of expensive soap and herbal shampoo. “You have no idea how hard it was to build Van Claybourne into what it is today. The last fucking thing I want to do is rebuild a career. I don’t want to sing ballads, okay? Now, look, I’m sorry to cut our trip short, but I’ve got to get to New York to talk about the next album and tour.”
He was being perfectly reasonable, so it was hard to remember the truth about what he truly needed versus what was expected of him. She followed him to the closet, talking to his back. “I asked you a question. What about us?”
Slowly, he turned to her. “Are you saying you don’t want to be with me if I don’t quit the band right now?”
“Of course not. But you’ve made all these plans without me. You’re showered, you’re packing…and I just woke up. Forgive me for thinking it looks like I’m being left behind.”
“You’re welcome to stay here as long as you like.” When her eyes flared, he said, “Or come with me to New York. It’s up to you.”
“Yes, I’m aware of my agency in all this. It just would help if I understood what the choices were.”
At her bitchy tone, he turned back to yank his shirts off the hangers. “After negotiations, I’ll go on a retreat so I can write the songs. Then—”
“Can you do that in Wild Wolff Village?” Because she could go with him there. She’d get to be with Micky. Maybe she’d start her event planning business in Calamity or Jackson.
“I don’t know where it’ll be. It’s usually somewhere unfamiliar, so there are no distractions, no routines. No interruptions.”
It hit so hard she went dizzy. He doesn’t want me with him. “Given that I have needs of my own—like chatting and sex and basic companionship, it sure sounds like I’d be an interruption.” He couldn’t have made himself clearer.
