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“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You weren’t a kid who needed help. You were already well on your way to becoming a household name. I knew you had plenty of money. A whole life. You were already signed to the label, locked into a contract. It seemed like the best I could do was make sure I did everything possible to make your career a success.”
“Don’t give me that bullshit, Carl. You were protectingyourinterests, not mine.Yourfamily.Yoursuccess.”
“I didn’t know about your mother’s struggles, Kyle. As far as I could see, you were succeeding. And it wasn’t about the money or the uncomfortable conversation with Celeste. I didn’t want you to know because I was worried you’d have another label buy out your contract or do something drastic. And I wanted to play a part in your career, no matter how minor. I wanted to see your success up close, and I was worried that wouldn’t happen if you knew the truth. I wasproudof you, son.”
“You knocking up my mother does not make me yourson, Carl.”
“Doesn’t change the sentiment, Kyle.”
We stare at each other, locked in a silent face-off. I don’t see any resemblance between us, which is somewhat reassuring. I used to look at some of the men in town when I was younger, wondering if one of them was my dad. My mom always maintained she didn’t know who he was, and I guess that was true. It sounds like she knew as little about Carl as he knew about her. Or maybe she was with other men that summer, too, and considered any of them potential sperm donors.
“Carl! It’s rude to serve yourself and not guests.” Celeste reappears, her tone chiding as she chastises her husband.
“I offered,” Carl replies.
“I’ve got fresh lemonade and appetizers in the kitchen. Let me grab them. Some help, Carl?”
It’s amusing, after years of seeing Carl command a boardroom, to watch him get bossed around by his petite wife. I might like Celeste Bergman, I decide. Certainly more than her husband.
Piper walks closer once Carl and Celeste are both inside. Her hands slide up my chest, clasping behind my neck.
“How were the hydrangeas?” I ask.
“Blue.”
I smile.
“How was the talk?”
“I haven’t decided yet.”
Her fingers play with the ends of my hair. “It’s a lot to take in.”
“Yeah.” I exhale. “I’m sorry I dragged you into this mess.”
“Hey.” She grabs my arm, turning me toward her. “I would have been pissed if youhadn’tdragged me into this. The biggest drama in my family is that my mom is still freaking out about Wells and Norah moving to Alaska.”
I huff a laugh.
“Did you tell him about the label?”
“No.”
About a week after Piper left her job and moved to Texas, I mentioned the idea of starting a label with her. I had the money and the connections, and she has the business knowledge. It took a lot of long conversations and a ton of paperwork to get the whole thing set up, but Blue Rain Boots Records signed its first band—the one we had seen at Whiskey Cowboy—a couple of weeks ago.
I came here for answers about the past, not to give Carl a glimpse into my present. And I doubt he’d care. Beyond biology, we have nothing in common. Music, for him, is all about the money.
She steps closer, giving me a tight hug.
“Here we go.” Celeste’s cheery voice sounds behind me, and Piper quickly pulls away.
I grab her hand before she can get too far, keeping our fingers linked as we walk over to the table that’s now laden with trays of fresh veggies and grilled bread.
“So,” Celeste says as we all sit down, “how long have you two been dating?”
Carl looks bored, swishing whiskey around in his glass.
