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“I shouldn’t have kissed you back,” he admits, his fingers gripping the mug tightly.
I lean back in my chair, not meeting his eyes when I say, “It’s not your fault. I was the one…” He doesn’t let me finish.
“There’s a power difference between us.” I turn back to him as he speaks; his face is stern and businesslike. “It wasn’t right for me to,” he hesitates as if he can’t bring himself to say it, “kiss you back.”
If truth be told, he didn’t just kiss me back. I almost squirm in my seat thinking about it.
“That was so long ago.” I try to pass it off as if I don’t care because I’m embarrassed.
“Actually, it was only a couple of months ago,” Bret deadpans, calling me out. He knows I’m trying to avoid this conversation and he won’t let me pass it off as nothing when it was clearly something.
“Anyway,” I dismiss him, “I’m in a better place now.” Heat rushes to my cheeks.
“I don’t want this to affect our relationship or how you think of me,” Bret says apologetically.
“You do realize we don’t work together anymore, right?” I remind him.
“It was never just a work relationship, Mia, and you know that,” Bret answers and squirms uncomfortably. “You guys were like family to me. I started my label with you.” The truth is, I never thought of Bret as my boss, ever.
I let out a loud sigh. “I know.”
The waitress comes back to our table to make sure we don’t need anything else. When asked if I want anything to eat, I shake my head no. Bret looks at me with worry.
“You’re too thin, ya know.” He gives me a wan smile.
“Yes, Daddy.” I wink at him.
“Stop that,” he warns uncomfortably. I can’t help it; I like to make him squirm. I’ve been in a better place lately, but I haven’t had much of an appetite and I can’t sleep on Wade’s couch forever.
“Mia.” He reaches across the table to take my hand in his. It’s not awkward given the circumstances of our conversation, and in fact, it’s welcoming. “You are so talented. Don’t let this be the end. My offer still stands if you want a publishing contract,” he tells me.
“I’m not in a place where I can write, at least not right now anyway.” I need to get my shit together first, and I haven’t really been able to write much of anything useable. Recently, I looked at my notebook from when I was staying in the motel, and honestly, it scared me.
“Just think about it.” He smiles, and it means more than he’ll ever know that he hasn’t given –p on me - even when I deserve it.
I nod, smiling back at him.
“You always have a place with me if you want it,” Bret says.
“It might be a little too close for comfort though,” I say, thinking about the article I just read. I get why Bret didn’t want to bring it up, but he can’t gloss over this when he’s offering me a job with his label.
“You heard about that, huh?” he says shyly.
“Kinda hard not to.” I cock an eyebrow, taking a sip of my coffee.
“I don’t want that to come between us. I care about you both.” I can see the nervousness in his weak smile.
“I know.” Bret has always been fair and transparent. He’s just trying to do what’s best for both of us in an impossible situation.
“I can keep everything separate, and Jack doesn’t have to know we have a contract,” he explains. “You can choose which artists you want to work with, or just write the songs and I’ll send them out.” He makes it sound so easy.
I’ve always been a writer, but it was just for me and then the band. The thought of selling my songs for someone else to sing feels like giving birth and then having to give the baby away. I’m not sure how I feel about that.
I’ve wanted to get my shit together, and honestly, I have no prospects right now. I can’t live off my royalties and savings forever.
“I’ll think about it,” I tell him.
CHAPTER SEVEN
