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Exhaustion filled me to my eyeballs at the thought. At this point, I’d give anything to go back to that night when I was discovered at the Bluebird Cafe—a country music mecca in its own right—and tell that music executive that I wasn’t interested in signing with a big label. I should’ve known by the glam on his belt buckle that his idea of country wasn’t about to match mine. Maybe I’d been blinded by the rhinestones.
Choosing not to sign with Legends would have made a world of difference for Everett and me. And if I’d turned the major label down, that didn’t mean I’d have to stop doing what I loved. Maybe I could have signed with a smaller one. I’d have been perfectly happy doing small shows around Nashville.
I didn’t need the money or the fame. It was all about the music, and it was all about him and what we shared. I didn’t want to trade small-town life for a life on the road. But that simply wasn’t how he saw it, and everyone around me treated it like the opportunity of a lifetime. So I took it.
Guilt washed over me at the thought. What kind of selfish jerk regretted signing with a major recording label? So many people would die for a shot like I’d gotten. To me, playing at the historic Bluebird Cafe felt like hitting the big time, and I hadn’t needed more. Being up on that stage after playing the midnight set at a million smaller, less reputable places in Nashville had been a dream come true by itself.
But now? Considering that dream led to a bigger dream that led to way more money than I knew what to do with … I should be nothing but grateful for the life I lived. Even if it had led to the greatest heartbreak of my life, aka the inspiration for great breakup songs.
Wah, wah, wah.
“You can get in touch with your roots and do a show there, too,” Paisley went on, totally unaware of my inner turmoil. Enthusiasm lit up her green eyes, and her short black bob swayed around her jawline as she talked excitedly. “The people of Charlotte Oaks love you. We have the data—they’re proud of you and don’t seem to care that you rarely grace them with your presence. They’ll turn up in droves if you pop in to sing someplace around town. In fact, why don’t you invite Riley to come with you?”
I jolted, scaring Jeanie and causing her to almost drop the hot wand in my lap. “Invite Riley? Are you crazy?”
“You’ve gone to Texas with him to do promo for his album. Why not have him return the favor?”
Oh, yes, allow me to parade my very fake boyfriend around Charlotte Oaks for Everett to see. He’d love that.
“Maybe because I don’t want to? Why doesn’t it seem to matter what I want anymore?”
Paisley blew a burst of air through her pursed lips. “Of course it matters what you want, Laney. But this is what you want, right? Isn’t this what you’ve always wanted?”
Yes. No. Ugh, maybe? Shouldn’t it be?
I closed my eyes and told myself to stop being a baby, then looked back up at Paisley with a resigned nod. “Fine. I’ll go. I’ll do the reunion, but I don’t think we need to do a show there to get in touch with my roots. My roots are just fine, thank you.”
“They sure are, sugar,” Jeanie said with a wink, speaking up for the first time.
I chuckled at her before looking back at Paisley. “And I’m definitely not invitin’ Riley.”
“Invitin’ me where?” a deep baritone asked, causing me to jump, which then caused me to make contact with the hot wand hovering near my shoulder. When I gasped in pain, Riley Conrad scooted closer, his face squished up in concern as he looked at me in the reflection of the mirror. “Shoot, you okay, Laney?”
“I’m fine,” I gritted out, giving Jeanie a reassuring smile as she fussed over me. Then I returned my attention to my handsome boyfriend-for-appearances, who didn’t make my heart sing and totally knew it. “What are you doin’ here?”
2
LANEY
Riley tipped his chin in the direction of the studio where I was about to have my photo shoot. “They tell me I’m here to get all primped and pretty for my album cover.”
I glanced at Paisley, finding her turning several shades of red. “Um, in about three hours, you mean?”
“No,” Riley said, confusion all over his face as he adjusted the ever-present guitar case he held. “I think in about thirty minutes.”
“Where’s your boneheaded manager?” Paisley snapped, fire shooting from her ears.
Riley lifted a finger and pointed out the door he’d come in, and all three of us watched as she stalked toward the door like a madwoman.
“Looks like we have a little double-bookin’ on our hands,” Riley said. He moved to stand so I could look right at him while Jeanie did my hair, rather than staring through the mirror. “You look nice.”
“I’m half-done,” I said with a laugh. “But thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Though,” he tilted his head, studying me closely, “you do look a little … off. Are you sick or somethin’?”
I gave him a grateful smile. Unlike Paisley, Riley did know about Everett. Not much, because I hadn’t felt comfortable telling him all the nitty-gritty details when I wasn’t willing to tell Paisley, but he knew enough. He’d needed to. When our managers first hooked us up as a publicity stunt, I’d felt it was only fair to let him know my heart was still firmly locked inside a mechanic’s shop in Charlotte Oaks, so I wouldn’t be able to give it to him no matter how close we had to get for the cameras. He’d taken it well, and he’d never tried to turn our relationship into anything more than the farce it was. And through that, we’d become genuine friends.
“I am a little sick,” I mumbled, then looked up at Jeanie through the mirror. “Hey, Jean, I know we’re on a time crunch, but do you think you can give us a minute in private?” I fluttered my eyelashes at Riley to give her an idea of why, then thanked her as she gave us a wry smile before slipping out the door. When she was gone, I turned back to Riley. “Sorry.”
