At the end of the story, Avery suggests some TV. She and I leave Mom and the kids in the living room watching some cartoon to go sit in the kitchen together.
She cracks the lid off a cold beer and hands it to me. I take a sip. “Beer has never tasted so good.”
“Hot day, hot work, and the twins.”
“I don’t know how you do it.”
“They don’t treat me like a human jungle gym, that’s how.” She takes a sip of her own drink, a Coke. “You must know that story word for word.”
Once again, my mind darts to Gabby, and once again, the pain twists inside. Agitated, I begin to peel the label off my beer bottle. “I guess I do.”
“You and your mom, you had a good talk?” Avery asks.
“Yeah. We cleared the air.”
She studies my face. “You okay? I know you’ve both been all torn up about it.”
“I told her I forgave her. I know now she did it to protect me. I’ve been able to see that recently.” I take another sip of my beer.
“You had a lot to process. It was a total mind fuck.”
My mind turns to Gabby. She’d used the exact same expression when I shared my story with her. Uncomfortably, I admit, “Yeah, someone else put it to me that way once.”
“Who?”
I chew on my lip. “That girl in New York I told you about. She kinda surprised me when she said it. A Park Avenue Princess, dropping the f-bomb.”
“You think about her much?”
“I try not to.” I let out a heavy sigh and look down as I peel more of the label off. “I’m not winning that battle yet. It’s a work in progress.”
“Do you think you need to? I mean, what if there’s a chance there with her?”
I whip my head up. “What? No. She broke my trust. That’s a big deal to me.”
“Which is unforgiveable, right?” She raises her eyebrows. The fact that I’ve forgiven my mom for something much more significant hangs in the air.
“Avery, don’t,” I warn.
She pulls her phone from her purse on the kitchen bench. “Have you been online today?”
“I’ve been at work.”
“Oh. So, you wouldn’t have seen this?” She turns the phone around, and my breath gets caught in my throat as I stare at the image on the screen. It’s a paused video of Gabby, dressed as a Pop Princess. The sight of her beautiful face makes my heart pound and blood thunders through my head.
Avery places her phone on the counter in front of me and says, “It’s some press conference in Baltimore about what the Pop Princesses are up to, but that’s not the point.” She nods at the phone. “Play it.”
My finger hovers over the “play” button. Do I want to watch a video of Gabby? Can my broken heart take seeing her, knowing what she did, knowing that no matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to kick my feelings for her? I make a fist and pull my hand away. “I’ll pass.”
“Oh, no you don’t,” Avery says. “I get it that she hurt you. From what you’ve told me, she made an idiotic choice and she’s paying the consequences for it. But from where I’m sitting, in that video, I see nothing but a woman who wants to make things right, a woman who knows she’s messed up, and who’s trying her best.”
“How the heck would you know all that?” I flip back through the mental catalog of what I’ve told Avery, from how Gabby and I met, to what I thought was us falling for one another, right down to her betrayal.
Never one to mince her words, she says, “I watched the damn video, Cole, that’s how I know. Now, you watch it.” She crosses her arms and glares at me.
I raise my hands. “Okay, okay. I’ll watch it.” Before I have the chance to chicken out, I quickly press the “play” icon and Gabby’s once frozen face begins to move.
“No, it’s a good question,” she says to some reporter off camera. “I’ll be half of the Pop Princesses with my sister for the rest of the tour.” The camera pans out as she puts her hand on Kylie’s shoulder and they grin at one another. “We work pretty well as a team, don’t you think?”
“What the—” I mutter to myself.
“What is it?” Avery asks.
I press pause. “The other half of the Pop Princesses is Gabby’s stepsister, Kylie. As far as I know, they can’t stand each other, but on this video, they’re, well, like sisters.”
“People change, Cole.”
“Thanks for the life lesson,” I quip. “I’ll watch the rest of this now, shall I?”
“Great idea,” she deadpans.
I press “play” again, my interest rising. I watch as Gabby now sits in silence. She’s listening to a man asking her if she’s currently in a relationship.
She smiles at the reporter and answers with, “Right now, I’m single.”
My belly twists and I pause the screen again. I look up at Avery. “You want me to watch the woman who broke my heart into pieces tell the world she’s available? What the hell kind of sadist are you?”
All she does is repeat, “Watch the damn video, Cole.”
I let out a sigh. “Only because you’re four years older than me and I know you’ll give me one of your famous noogies if I don’t.” I’m making light to put off watching Gabby get her next date.
“You bet I will,” Avery replies with a glint in her eyes.
Once again, I press play. “But you know what?” Gabby says. “I don’t want to be single. You see, I gave my heart away when I crashed into this cute guy from Tennessee.” I hold my breath. She’s talking about me. I mean, how many guys from Tennessee can one girl crash into? After a beat, she leans forward and says, “Which camera is it? Oh, this one? Got it.” She looks directly out at me, and I swear my heart leaps right into my mouth. “If you’re watching, Tennessee, I want you to know how sorry I am for what I did. If I had known it would tear us apart the way it has, I would have kept my mouth shut. It was a stupid, stupid mistake, and I would love a second chance because I love you. With all my heart, I love you.”
I swallow down that darn lump in my throat and grip the edge of the counter as I watch Gabby’s eyes fill with unshed tears.
“I know this is a long shot, but if you’re watching, I’ll be waiting for you at sunset this Sunday at the place where we first kissed. I hope you’ll be there.”
The video freezes on her face, the recording over, and a tiled screen offers me a selection of other videos to choose from. I turn the phone over and place it carefully down on the counter.
“So?” Avery says, her face bright. “You getting on a plane any time soon, cousin?”
“You think just because she’s apologized it makes everything all right?”
“Well, yes, I do.”
I shake my head, frustrated. “She can’t just wave her magic wand, say sorry, and fix this. It doesn’t work like that.”
“Cole, if you think that, you’re being dumber than a sack of rocks. I mean look at you. It’s plain to see you’re as miserable as a soggy old bit of toast.”
“I’m not miserable,” I protest, but my heart’s not in it. “And anyway, what am I? A sack of rocks or a soggy old bit of toast?” It’s a weak attempt at humor. I let out a heavy sigh. “I thought coming back home, getting to the point where I could make my peace with Mom would have me feeling like, well, me again. Truth be told, there’s still a great big hole in my heart.”
“A Gabby Davis shaped hole.”
I give a reluctant nod. “Whether she meant to break my trust or not, the truth of the matter is she did. I don’t know whether she was using me to get the fame she wanted or what.”
Avery drums her fingers on the counter as she studies my face. “I know genuine when I see genuine, and that girl in that video is all that. I don’t need to be smacked in the face with it, and I don’t think you do, either. Answer me something: do you love this girl?”
“Do I love her?”
“It’s a simple enough question.”
I cast my eyes down. “I’ve been busy trying not to love
her.”
“How’s that working out for you?”
I look up at her, my insides twisting with the pain of Gabby’s betrayal, but mostly with the pain of being without her. “It’s a work in progress.”
“So, what are you gonna do about it?”
I rub the back of my neck, trying to loosen myself up, feel more . . . hell, I don’t know what I’m trying to feel. All I know is that I might have had something amazing with Gabby before this thing blew up in our faces, but now?
Now I don’t know if I can risk my heart. Now I don’t know if I can ever go back.
Chapter 24
Gabriella
Dad pulls the car up near the pedestrian access to the Brooklyn Bridge. A ball of tension, twisted in an elaborate knot any Boy Scout would be proud of, has settled in my belly since I flew into JFK this morning.
What I’m about to do is huge—and if he’s not there, I’ve set myself up for a massive fall. I mean, why did I have to pick such a grand, romantic gesture?
I place my hand on the handle and turn to Cece on the seat beside me. “I can’t believe I’m really doing this. What if he’s a no-show?”
“He’ll be there. I know it,” she says with an encouraging smile. “How could he not love you? You’re one of the most amazing people on the planet.”
Despite my nerves trying to get the better of me, I laugh. “The whole planet?”
She shrugs. “You know what I mean. You rock, that’s what.”
The guilt my sister has felt over sharing Cole’s story with Thaddeus has led to her being super, super nice to me since the concert at The Garden. Although it wasn’t exactly her brightest move, she didn’t know the jerk would put it on his social media accounts, so I can’t hold her personally responsible. Even if she did make a dumb move in telling him.
“Thanks, Cece.” I flash her a brief smile as I open the door and step onto the sidewalk. Dad gets out of the passenger’s door as Cece slides out after me. I look up the street where I can see the top of the first archway of the Brooklyn Bridge. My mouth is already dry, and my heart palpitations are running the risk of flat lining. “If he’s not out there, I don’t know what I’ll do.”
“If he’s not out there, I know exactly what I’ll do: get myself to Tennessee and kick his ass into next week,” Dad says at my side.
“Dad? I know you care. But just in case he’s not on the bridge, there will be no ass kicking or any other sort of kicking, got it?”
Dad places a hand on each of my shoulders and looks into my eyes. “Pumpkin, I let you and your sister down once. I’m not going to do it again.”
“The look on Sylvia’s face when she packed her bags to leave showed us all we need to know, Dad,” I say with a smile. “Right, Cece?”
“Totally.”
“After what she did to you? She’s lucky I don’t sue her,” Dad says.
“Dad, I thought all those yoga retreats and ashrams you went to were supposed to make you more chill,” Cece says.
“They have, just not when it comes to you two. But enough about the past.” He shoots us a sheepish look. “Tonight is about new beginnings. It’s about knowing what you want and going for it.”
“And Gabby wants Cole,” Cece says with a twinkle in her eye.
My belly does a flip-flop when she mentions his name. Ever since I reached out to him through the media two long days ago, I’ve been hoping he’d contact me. A phone call, a text, a knock at the door. So far, nada.
That’s why I find myself here at sunset, about to step onto Brooklyn Bridge, and pray with everything I’ve got that Cole Grant walks back into my life.
“Gabby!” a voice calls from down the road.
I look to see Raffy and Izzy rushing toward us, their faces flushed.
“I’m so glad we got here in time to see you. The traffic was crazy,” Raffy says as she pulls me in for a warm and slightly damp hug.
“I told you we should have taken the subway,” Izzy reprimands. “See?” She points at the Brooklyn Bridge City Hall subway sign about thirty feet away. “Anyway, we want you to know that we’re here for you every step of the way, Gabby.”
“Am I crazy?” I ask.
“Crazy in love,” Izzy replies.
As Dad, Cece, and The Ellas greet one another, my eyes drift back to the bridge. With the sun beginning to set behind the skyscrapers of Lower Manhattan, casting a warm glow all around, I wonder if he’s there already. Is my future, my heart, waiting for me just a short walk away?
Raffy has her hand over her heart as she smiles at me. “Oh, Gabby. This has got to be the most romantic thing you’ll ever do.”
I cross my arms and uncross them again. It’s hard to stay in one position, and my anxiety gives my limbs a life of their own. “It will be romantic if he turns up. If not?”
“He will, I know it,” Izzy says with conviction.
“That’s what I said,” Cece adds.
“If not, then you’ll pick yourself back up. You’re a New Yorker, and you’re my daughter. They don’t come much tougher than that.” Dad smiles, and I feel the warmth of his love spread through me.
Having our dad back in our lives, in our home, has been amazing. And an adjustment. The damage done by his absence can never be undone, but in coming back he’s shown me the people I care about can leave, but they can come back, too.
“Michael’s right,” Raffy says with a nod. “You’re a Pop Princess, and when Britney’s back, you’ve got your new solo album deal. You’re achieving your dream. Everything you want is coming true.”
I signed a one-record deal with the label three days ago to record my own songs. I still have to pinch myself whenever I think about it. Me, Gabriella Davis, an up-and-coming song writer slash recording star. Raffy’s right, it’s a total dream come true, and I want so badly to share it with Cole.
“Well, it’s now or never.” I look nervously between my friends and family. The people I love. Well, all but one.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” Cece says. “Kylie asked me to tell you to ‘go get that super-hot Southern guy.’ Well, she told me to tell you that. Word for word. You know how she is, even if you two are BFFs now.”
“Sounds like Kylie,” I say with a smile.
“I’m so proud of you. For so many reasons,” Dad says. “And I know your mom is, too.”
Tears well in my eyes. “Thanks, Dad.”
“Now, go get your hot southern guy, or whatever it is Kylie said to say,” Izzy says.
I take a few tentative steps toward the bridge then turn back to the sea of smiling, encouraging faces, full of love and support for me.
Even if he’s not there, I know I’m loved. But please, God, let him be there.
I turn back and continue my walk toward the bridge, past the wooden benches, the wrought iron railings, and a seemingly endless flow of people out enjoying the beautiful summer evening. As the walkway begins to rise above the long stream of traffic, I hear the latest Pop Princesses’ single, What You Do To Me, blaring out from the open windows of a car. Suddenly, I’m back at The Garden, performing for the very first time, secure in my love for Cole, a world of opportunity at my Manolo Blahnik-clad feet.
Before my heart got broken in two.
My pace quickens as I try to push away memories of what happened next. I need to focus on the future. Making things right with Cole is the very first step.
As the concrete of the sidewalk gives way to the bridge’s wooden slats, I know I’m not far from passing under the first arch. The memories of that night out with Cole fill my thoughts. The way we laughed when he learned I knew next to nothing about the bridge, how he shared his fear of heights with me, how he opened up about how hard he found it growing up without a dad. How we looked back at the Manhattan skyline together and shared our first kiss. That kiss was nothing short of electric, and full of the promise of so much more.
And more there was: getting to know him, seeing what a kind person he was, learning how funny and cute he
could be. He did what he could to help me, in any way he could. And it was all because he loved me.
And I hope with every last breath he still does.
I approach the spot where Cole and I stopped to take in the view together that night. As I slow my steps, I look around at the people, hoping, hoping . . . There’s a figure in a hooded top, leaning against the rail, his head down as he looks at his phone in his hand. Could it be him? I take a tentative step toward him.
“Cole?” My voice comes out as almost a whisper. I clear my throat. “Cole?”
The guy looks up at me, and I see it’s not him. He shakes his head and returns his attention to his phone once more while my heart takes a dip toward my toes.
I find a free spot by the railing and see the cars whipping by below. Strands from the sun poke around the buildings of Manhattan as the sky begins to glow crimson and purple above.
I stand and wait, my eyes searching. The longer I wait, the more I begin to doubt myself. Why did I choose Brooklyn Bridge? What was I thinking? Swept up in the romance, I didn’t stop for a second to think about Cole’s fear of heights.
Would that stop him from meeting me tonight?
A couple walks past me, his arm wrapped around her shoulders, hers around his waist, their happiness obvious to anyone who cares to see. Wistful, hopeful, I see a man walking toward me, but my hopes are dashed once more when it isn’t Cole.
I wait, and I wait.
Yellow at first, the sky darkens to only scraps of faintly colored clouds littered across the canvas.
He’s not coming.
My chest aches as I turn and lean on the railing. The lights of the Manhattan skyline blur with the tears that begin to fill my eyes. Despite my nerves, there was a part of me that was sure he would be here. Sure he felt the same way about me. Sure he loved me. As the tears spill down my face, a sense of complete hopelessness floods into the crevices of my core.
He’s not coming.
I wipe my tears away with the back of my hand, angry with myself for being such a fool, for letting my hopes be raised. For wanting something I probably never even really had. Not for certain.
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