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“We did it,” Georgia said with the grin she’d worn the entire evening. “I feel like it’s all downhill from here. The first show was the hardest.”
I didn’t comment because since we’d only done one show, I couldn’t say. I suspected the more shows we did, the more difficult the competition would be because all the lightweights would be weeded out. There was also the dilemma of trying to one-up our past performances. I didn’t mention any of that to Georgia, though, choosing to let her enjoy the moment. Unless something crazy happened, she and I should be safe this week.
“Did you start rehearing your next song?” I asked.
“We’re still narrowing it down,” she said, “but it’s going to be a Faith Hill and Tim McGraw song.”
I nodded. “Good choice.”
“You?”
″‘Like I’m Going to Lose You,’ by John Legend and Meghan Trainor.” I was pleased we’d come to the decision quickly this time around.
“Nice.” She cast me a sidelong glance. “Who do you think will be voted off?” I knew exactly who was getting the ax—I would have bet my position on the show on it—but before I could offer my expertise, Georgia shook her head vehemently. “No, no. Forget I asked. I shouldn’t have asked!”
I shrugged. “It won’t be us.”
She shook her head. “I wish I had your confidence. But you know what? Let’s not talk about it. Tonight is for celebrating!”
I laughed. “That’s what you said when we made it on the show,” I teased. “Are you going to want to celebrate every little thing?”
She rolled her eyes. “We didn’t celebrate the reveal show, because let’s face it—that was about the celebrities, not us. We were merely props.”
My eyebrows shot up. If Georgia admitted it, then it must have been beyond obvious. “The last time we celebrated,” I reminded her, “you were so hungover you stayed in bed nearly all day. Are you sure you want to do that again?”
Her mouth stretched into a sly smile. “Last time, you ended up naked in a hotel room with Trenton.”
Like I need the reminder.I couldn’t be in the same room with him without thinking about that night. My phone rang at the perfect time because I was struggling to come up with a snarky retort. It was my sister, Emily. “Hello?”
She flung words at me as if by a machine gun. She tended to speak on turbo speed when she was excited.
“Whoa, slow down.”
“You didn’t tell me you were going onSing Battle!” she shrieked, finally slowly enough for me to understand.
I cringed. Despite her excitement, I could tell she was hurt. We were close even though I was a decade older than she was. “Sorry,” I said. “I didn’t tell Mom and your dad.”
“I would have kept your secret.”
“I know, but I didn’t want to ask you to lie. Can you forgive me?”
She blew out a breath. “I guess.”
“So I guess Mom knows I’m on the show now.”
There was a pause. “You could say that.”
“She’s pissed, isn’t she?”
“You could say that too.”
I sighed. “Pissed that I’m on the show or pissed that I didn’t tell her?” I hated that I had to ask. Frankly, I hated that she wouldn’t support me. Making it ontoSing Battlewas a huge accomplishment that most mothers would have been proud of. It was a shame she wasn’t like most mothers.
“Uh… probably both. I didn’t get close enough to find out. You know how she gets.”
I definitely knew how she got, and I felt bad for inadvertently putting my little sister in the line of fire. “Sorry.”
“You don’t have to apologize to me. I think it’s awesome! I already texted all my friends to tell them to vote for you.”
