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Even if I do go rogue and break things off on my timing, I need to make sure I have my own PR plan in place to control the narrative before jumping on that landmine. I’ve barely processed the mess as it stands, let alone who I’d be hurting and what I’d be damaging when I blow it up. I’d have to warn Mae, my manager, Steve, and a host of other people first. I’d definitely have to make sure Val is prepared for the fallout that will undoubtedly land on him. In fact, he’ll probably be hit the worst when he becomes the easiest target and scapegoat for all parties involved.
Val. He’s been silent this entire time, and when I peek at him, a grinding twists in my stomach. What’s he thinking right now? Are his pleading looks begging me to set the record straight or begging me not to? See, that’s the problem with selfless men. They’re so hard to predict. I had it easy with Jarvis.
Suddenly, I decide I also don’t like flakes of stuff on my bagels and start a new pile of poppy seeds. Uncle Howard shoots me an approving look.
“Were you surprised?” Mama asks. “Where’s the ring? Why aren’t you wearing the ring, sweetie?”
The ring!
Crap, crap, crap!
“Oh. I… uh…”
“She can’t perform with it on,” Val says.
I cast a surprised glance at him, but his expression is unreadable.
“Gets in the way of the equipment,” he explains.
“Ah, yes. Good point,” Mama says. “Maybe you can have a smaller one made. You probably should, anyway. It was quite garish from what we saw on the internet.”
Garish is a good word. There’s not much about this situation that isn’t garish, actually.
Val’s gaze lands on me, and I see the flash of pain before he blinks it away. My chest hurts, my throat… so many things hurt right now. I can’t imagine how hard that must have been for him to say. Actually, I can imagine it because it would gut me if our roles were reversed. It also proves he agrees with my decision not to disclose the truth yet.
“I like your hat,” Tia says to him.
Somehow he manages a smile. “Thanks. Tiara, right?”
“Yeah, but everyone calls me Tia.”
“Cool. Larinda says you’re going to culinary school. What’s that like?”
I want to cry and scream as he subtly leads my sister away to give me privacy with my parents. Sometimes I hate how well he reads me. How much he cares about me. How he’d do anything for me, including support my attachment to another man if that’s what I wanted. But it’s not what I want. It’s not, I just…
My parents’ eager grins are hovering dangerously close to my very generous threshold for personal space.
Tia laughs at something Val says, and a stab of jealousy shoots through me when I see her swat his arm. She’s clearly enamored. How could she not be? You know what else I hate? That I don’t have to wonder for a second if Val will cross a line with her. He won’t. I trust him more than I trust myself, even though he’s the one being wronged in this moment.
But most of all, I hate that I’m in love with the most incredible person I know, and I can’t tell anyone.
“The tomatoes are sliced vertically,” Aunt Lucy snaps. “Who the heck slices tomatoes vertically?”
12—DALLAS (BACK LOT)
VAL
Here’s a fun game:
What’s worse? Watching the woman you love pretend to gush to her family about marrying someone else or knowing there’s a direct threat against that woman that might require you to continue watching her pretend to gush about marrying someone else?
Oh wait, I know. It’s the third option: knowing there’s a direct threat that requires you to participate in the gushing.
I’m supposed to be helping Chad run the merch table right now. The concert is in full swing, and I already know from Oklahoma City that his questionable merch sorting system doesn’t work so great in practice. He’ll interrogate me later, but this is also my only chance to call in an ally (literally), and right now my mangled heart and mind need all the support they can get. As soon as I made it to the dark parking lot with our buses, I sent Paige and Nash a video chat request. Typically, this area is the last place for privacy, but everyone else is busy doing what they’re supposed to be doing.
I’ve opted to leave the personal shit out of this conversation and focus on the practical, since I’m not supposed to be feeling anything other than concern for Larinda as a friend and associate. I have no idea how to explain the personal stuff, anyway. I can’t talk about the pain of watching her make wedding plans with her family. How it feels to stay silent while the entire world celebrates a man who is straight-up horrible and borderline criminal. No one can ever know I’m cracking apart inside, because I can’t do anything that will risk exposing our relationship.
Nope, I get to bear this catastrophic gut punch all on my own.
