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“I submitted a demo to a few places back when I was in college. Never went anywhere. So, I decided being an artist wasn’t for me. Focused on the other side of it.”
“You should consider—”
“I’m going to get dressed, and then I’ll drive you to the doctor. Is there a hospital in this town, or is it someone’s house?” She’s out of the bathroom before I can say another word, making it clear it’s not a subject she wants to discuss any further.
I sit for another few seconds until the dizziness fades, then stand and head downstairs to wait for her.
CHAPTEREIGHTEEN
PIPER
I’m almost finished getting ready for the fair when my phone rings. I finish swiping a layer of lip gloss across my lower lip and grab the buzzing device, expecting it to be one of my brothers or roommates. Instead, it’s an unknown New York number.
I swallow nervously, then answer. “Hello?”
“Piper? Carl Bergman here.”
Shit. I swallow again, backing up until I can take a seat on the edge of the bed.
“Hi, Mr. Bergman.”
“Carl, please. How are things going down there?”
My anxiety level skyrockets. “I haven’t given up.”
“That bad?”
“He’s…”
I glance out the window, watching Kyle shake hands with the roofing crew as they depart. It only took them three days to install the shiny metal roof. Mabel and John are in for a surprise when they get back. I wonder if I’ll still be here to see it.
“Decided,” I finish. “Honestly, I don’t think he’ll change his mind. He’s been clear where he stands.”
“Does he seem upset? Confused?”
“Uh…not really.”
A disappointed exhale is the only response at first. “Kyle has always been so amenable,” Carl says, almost to himself.
“I guess everyone has their limit,” I reply. “He’s performing tonight.”
“He is?” There’s a new, excited note to Carl’s voice that immediately makes me regret mentioning it.
“There’s a local fair in town. He’s the main attraction from what I’ve gathered. But I don’t think it’ll change anything. It’s just a community event and fundraiser.”
“Still, a promising sign. Kyle’s a performer. Reminding him of that is a great idea.”
“It wasn’t my ide—”
“I have to run to a meeting. Keep me updated.”
He hangs up without providing any instructions onhowto update him.
Am I supposed to send him daily emails? Set up another phone call? How long does he expect me tostayhere, waiting for Kyle to possibly budge?
Maybe I should have delivered a bleaker summary, but it’s not like I was overly optimistic to begin with.
I shove my phone and lip gloss into a small crossbody bag, then scrutinize my appearance in the mirror.
