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I close my eyes. Take a deep breath. “Okay,” I call out. “I’ll be right there, Hannah.” Then raise the phone back to my ear. “We’re landing, Dad. I have to go. The farm and Mom were the only two bombshells you had for today, right?”
He sighs. “Right.”
“Okay. I’ll talk to you…” I almost sayin another few months, but decide this conversation has been contentious enough. I settle on an ambiguous, “Later,” instead.
“Bye, Sutton.”
“Bye, Dad.”
Dead air lingers in my ear for a minute before I let the phone drop. My good mood has fully evaporated. I don’t feel like going to an interview that will undoubtedly be filled with questions about my personal life, not just my music. Or smiling and dancing for tens of thousands in the outdoor amphitheater hosting tonight’s performance.
But, like with a lot of things, I have no other choice.
