I raised an eyebrow. “I’m sure she liked hearing that.”
There was no way she’d assign blame to her son over me.
“No, it didn’t help,” he admitted. “She just needs more time.”
I wished that were true, but it was doubtful.
“So,” he forced lightness into his voice, “I’m back to crashing at my place. Don’t let me forget to give you back your key.”
I’d reached my car and unlocked it but hesitated before opening the door. I’d loved last night.
I was greedy and wanted more nights like that.
My voice was breathless, excited to take the risk. He’d said he wanted me, and now I could make my own declaration for him. “You can hang on to it.”
“Yeah?” I pictured him with a sexy smile on his face. “Cool.”
I tugged open my door and slid into the driver’s seat. “Do you want to get dinner together? It might be one of my last chances before you’re a superstar.”
While Stella’s tour bus wouldn’t arrive from Atlanta until Friday, she’d quietly slip into town tomorrow afternoon to try to avoid the paparazzi. She wanted a lowkey night out with her friends and team, which of course included Troy. It would be a fabulous opportunity, and I hoped he could find a moment to sweet talk Stella into mentoring him.
“I could do dinner,” he said. “You want to pick me up? It might give you and my mom a chance to talk.”
Was he kidding? “You just said she needs time. It doesn’t sound like she’s ready to talk.”
“No,” he said, “but . . . she’ll come around. Trust me.”
I hoped he was right.
Friday morning, Charlotte was surprisingly helpful, offering to help me sift through contracts so I could find the information I was looking for, allowing me to go on to the next thing on my never-ending to-do list. Stella’s concert was tomorrow, and I wanted all my ducks in a row so I didn’t have to work tonight or tomorrow.
I could focus entirely on Troy.
He hadn’t texted me yet to tell me how the evening with Stella had gone last night, but Ardy had looked haggard when he’d arrived at the office, mumbling about him being too old to be this tired.
Once he was tucked away in his office, I smiled at Charlotte. “Late night?”
She nodded. “I heard from Becca the bar stayed open an extra hour.”
Meaning if Ardy and Troy had stayed to the end, it’d been three or four in the morning. I glanced at the clock on her computer screen, which read nine-forty, and sucked up the impatient urge to text my boyfriend and potentially wake him up. He had a huge day tomorrow and needed all the sleep he could get.
Charlotte scrolled through the contract she had pulled up, highlighting the clause I was looking for.
“Awesome, thanks.” I straightened to go back to my office, but hesitated. “Hey, can I ask you something? Do you like working here?”
She looked up at me with confusion. “Sure.”
My question had been too broad. “I guess what I’m asking is, if you could do whatever you wanted, would you be here working for your dad?”
Watching what Troy had gone through with his mother gave me new perspective. Maybe Charlotte disliked her job and I hadn’t been fair to her. Ardy had a dominating presence, and it wasn’t a stretch to assume he’d encouraged her to work at the business he’d built and ran.
She sat back in her chair and considered my question critically, and then her eyes turned sad. “No.” She made a face. “I mean, maybe? It’s like, when my dad said I was going to get to work at Warbler, I got all excited. I grew up surrounded by music, and I always expected it’d be a part of me.”
I tilted my head in question.
She pivoted in her chair to better face me. “So, I thought I was going to get,” she searched for the right word, “rock n’ roll.” She gestured to the contract on her computer screen. “Instead, I got this. This . . . is not rock n’ roll.”
My laugh was gentle. “No, it’s not.”
“I’m sure it’s not news to you, but I suck at paperwork, and I don’t like doing things I’m not good at.”
There was a twinge inside me because I could absolutely relate. Who would enjoy doing something that made them feel inferior? “Have you told your dad this?”
Charlotte’s pretty face skewed. “I don’t think he’s going to want me to keep working here if I say I don’t like it.”
“I don’t know, your dad’s a smart guy. He might have some ideas that are a better fit for you.” Plus, he loved his daughter. He’d do all he could to make her happy.
Her expression was skeptical at first, but I watched the wheels turning behind her eyes as she began to consider what I’d said.
Her phone was lying face-up on her desk, so when the notification with Troy’s name popped up on the lock screen, my eye went straight to it. “What’s that?”
She picked up her phone and looked embarrassed. “I, um . . . set an alert on Troy’s name.”
Except for Ardy, no one at Warbler knew Troy and I were dating. We’d decided to hold off on revealing it until after Stella’s tour was over. Our relationship had no bearing on him landing the show’s opening spot, but this would keep any rumors of impropriety from circulating.
Charlotte’s embarrassment was harmless. She worried she’d come off as a silly girl with a crush, but if she was, I couldn’t fault her for it. I felt that way around him too.
“What’s the notification?” I asked.
Was it more pictures from last night? He’d been in one Stella had posted to Instagram. But Charlotte’s eyes widened as she stared at the screen, forcing me to step behind her and read over her shoulder.
“I guess that answers the question,” she said flatly, “on whether or not he has a girlfriend.”
My mouth went dry and my body cold as I processed what I was seeing. First, the red logo at the top of the screen caused dread. Nothing good for my clients had ever been posted on TMZ. Second, the headline made my stomach turn.
“Stella Auditions Her New Man!”
I didn’t read the article because there was no point. The photo did all the storytelling.
The picture was grainy and angled from above, probably taken by a drone and then zoomed in. It was the only way to get pictures of her property because the community was gated, and her fence was an impressively high wall, surrounding her estate on all sides. I’d been to her house once with Ardy, and we’d marveled at how far she’d come from the two-bedroom apartment she used to share with her parents and sister.
The image had been captured while Troy was mid-step in the circle drive, walking toward the open door of an SUV. It was likely Stella’s personal car, preparing to take him home after their evening was over.
I didn’t know the circumstances that led to the picture, but several facts were undeniable. He was wearing the same clothes he’d been in Stella’s IG post from earlier in the night.
He’d gone over to her house afterward.
And the sun was up when the picture had been taken, meaning he’d spent the night.
It felt like I was back in that dark hallway, staring at Clark’s office door, knowing everything was about to come apart and there was nothing I could do to stop it.
I straightened so abruptly, it caused alarm in Charlotte. “Are you okay?”
“Fine.” Although the shake in my voice said otherwise. I put one foot in front of the other and forced myself to walk to my office.
It was fine, I told myself. I’d call him and there’d be a perfectly reasonable explanation. I tried not to think about how gorgeous Stella was, or how successful, or that she could catapult his career and make his dreams come true.
All I could think about was how young she was. Practically his age. She was America’s sweetheart, and maybe the only girl on this planet his mother would approve of.
My hands shook as I held my phone and tapped his contact name.
It rang.
And rang.
“Hey!” I overcompensated, so it came out extra bright. “Sorry. Did I wake you?”
“Yeah, but that’s okay. What’s up?”
My pulse throbbed in the side of my neck. “How was your night?”
“It was great.” He sounded marginally more alert. “She gave me all these tips and told me the stuff she wished she’d known starting out. I could have listened to her talk all night.”
I’d told him to be a sponge. To do way more listening than talking, because people just starting out were weirdly overconfident and often came off as know-it-alls.
“All night?” I tried to sound nonchalant. “I heard y’all kept the place open late.” I both did and didn’t want to know the answer, so my voice was tight. “What time did you get home?
There was a fraction of a pause, but it was a fucking dagger to my heart. That microsecond was the time it took him to craft his lie.
He sounded distant. “A little after three.” He tacked it on as if it were the perfect explanation. “We were doing shots.”
“Three,” I repeated.
“Yeah. Why?”
“I asked what time you got home,” I maintained a cool veneer, “not what time you left the bar with her, Troy.”
“What?” There was rustling on the other end. Had he bolted upright in bed? It sounded like the covers were shifting around him. “What are you talking about?”
“You spent the night at Stella’s place.” I’d naïvely hoped he’d tell me I was wrong, that it wasn’t true.
But I was met with nothing but silence.
My tone was pure bitterness. “If you need help jogging your memory, go check TMZ.”
He sounded desperate. “Okay, yeah. I went back to her place, but you need to believe me—nothing happened.”
I wasn’t Erika Graham anymore because I’d become a volcano of fury. “Are you fucking kidding me? You just lied, and now you’re asking me to believe you?”
It hurt to breathe. He was supposed to be better than Clark. Troy had told me he didn’t understand people who cheated, but . . . had it just been bullshit? I should have known better. He’d lied to his mom so many times, lying had to come easy for him now. And I hadn’t just participated in lying with him, I’d actively encouraged it.
God, I was so stupid.
“Where are you?” There was louder rustling as he scurried out of bed. “Warbler? I’m coming over.”
The agent side of me stepped in and took control. “No. We’re not discussing this while I’m at work.”
His tone was gruff. “See you in twenty minutes.”
The call disconnected before I could protest. I dropped my phone onto my desktop, clenched my fists, and paced my office. The image of him leaving Stella’s house this morning was burned into my brain, but if I needed to reference it again, the notification from TMZ was right there on my lock screen.
I had no choice but to read the article, and then critically examine both his and Stella’s posts on social media to glean all the facts I could. I needed to know in case he planned to feed me more lies.
As soon as I heard heavy footsteps marching up the front porch and the main door push open, I put on a stern expression and came out of my office.
Troy looked . . . disheveled. His t-shirt had wrinkles like he’d scooped it up off his bedroom floor and pulled it on, along with the khaki shorts he wore. His hair was wild—flattened on one side and sticking up in other places. Dark circles hung beneath his tired eyes.
Despite it, he still looked so damn good to me. This rumpled styling was caused by an urgent need to see me, and it was hard not to respond to it. But the business side of me had a very different reaction.
Charlotte lifted her head and blinked in surprise. “Oh, hey, Troy.”
He didn’t acknowledge her at all. His gaze swept the room, found me, and locked on.
I flung a finger at the door he’d just come through. “Outside with me.”
It was overcast today, and there was electricity in the air. Rain would be coming at any second, and it gave me a good excuse to get him back in his car and out of sight.
“Erika—”
My voice was clipped and professional. “We’ll talk in your Jeep.”
Frustration etched his face, but he agreed to it by leading me down the sidewalk to where he’d parked. I said nothing when he held open the passenger door for me, I just climbed in. He closed the door with a loud thump, then rounded the backend of the SUV and got seated behind the wheel.
The moment his door was shut, speckles of rain dotted his windshield, like the storm had politely held off for us.
“I’m not your agent or manager anymore,” I said, “but you cannot ever go out in public again looking like this, you understand? The tabloids will be all over you now because of this story. The last guy Stella dated—”
“Stop.” He turned in his seat as much as he could to face me. “When the bar closed last night, the party was still going, so Stella invited us back to her place. That’s all this was. We hung out in her studio, playing music and talking about the industry.” His brow furrowed. “It got so late, she said it was cool if I wanted to crash in one of her guest rooms.”
I had no idea what expression I was making, but the concern in his blue eyes deepened.
“I’ll prove it. Her guest room has these huge fucking silver curtains and the bed’s one of those memory foam ones where it’s hard as a rock until you sink down in.”
I blinked slowly, considering his story, but was skeptical. He’d said Stella had invited us and not me. The only photo published of someone leaving her house this morning was him, but that didn’t necessarily mean it was the case. “Who else stayed over?”
When his eyes shifted away, the pain in my chest was back.
“Just me,” he said quietly, “but seriously—nothing happened. You have to know that.” The rain pattered against the windows and hurt welled in his voice. “How could you think I’d do that to you?”
Was he kidding?
“Oh, I don’t know,” bitterness filled my mouth, “maybe how I spent a year of my life fucking oblivious the man I loved was having an affair?” I lifted my gaze to the ceiling to stave off my emotions. “Christ, I can’t believe I made the same mistake with you so fast.”
I’d said it without thinking, and the meaning in my words filled every breathable inch of space inside his Jeep.
Troy went wooden. “Love?”
He’d latched onto that word, and I needed to put distance between it and us as quickly as possible. I couldn’t love him. It wasn’t possible for me to fall in love this quickly. This feeling of drowning in him was just the newness of our relationship.
“If nothing happened,” I said, “then why lie about it?”
He was still dazed and struggled to pull himself back together. “I’m sorry I did that.”
“I appreciate the apology, but that’s not an explanation, Troy.”
He frowned. “Okay, this is going to sound bad . . . but I did it because it made sense not to tell you. Because of your ex, I—”
“What the fuck?” My eyes widened. “You meant easier. It was easier not telling me.”
“So, we could avoid this?” He gestured between us. “You jumping to conclusions? Yeah. What your ex did to you was beyond shitty, but I am not him. I don’t cheat. I’ve made it crystal fucking clear what I want, and it’s not someone else, not Stella, and definitely not some other dude. I don’t want anyone but you.”
The rain was heavier now, pummeling the Jeep and the roar of it filled the silence between us. As it dragged on, I grew more upset.
And worried about what this meant for our future.
“It would be easier to believe you,” I said, “if you hadn’t just lied to me.”
His expression was a mix
of remorse and frustration. “I’m sorry. It was stupid and I wasn’t completely awake when you—”
I lifted a hand, cutting him off. “I’ve been in the business a while. I know better than to take every story or picture at face value, because clicks matter more than the truth to a lot of people. There has to be trust between us, so I can believe you when you say nothing happened.” I swallowed painfully. “But now that trust is gone.”
“I know I fucked up.” Worry etched his handsome face. “I’d take it back if I could, but I can’t. All I can say is I promise it won’t happen again.” He hesitantly reached over and trailed his fingertips over my cheek, pushing my hair back behind my ear, and I wanted to soften at his touch. His voice fell to a whisper. “Can you at least believe that?”
The storm overhead beat down on the car in slashes of rain, and I was grateful for the cover. Not just with how it prevented Charlotte from seeing us—because I was sure she was watching through the front window—but how secluded it felt.
For a brief time, it had created a bubble where my negative thoughts had a harder time penetrating my mind. But my devil’s advocate spun up and told me all the reasons why he’d lie and leave me for someone else.
That what we had might not last.
And it would be better to cut my losses now.
Save myself from more pain down the road.
He searched my face, trying to figure out why I hadn’t said anything, and his eyes widened in concern. “You’re looking at me like you think we’re doomed.”
I didn’t want to put it out in the universe, but the words came from me anyway. “Are we?” I whispered. “It’s only going to get harder when you blow up.”
Oh, he didn’t like hearing that. “So . . . what are you saying? You want to give up? Just because I made a dumb mistake and things might get hard?”
Did I want to give up?
My thoughts were a mess, and when I didn’t respond immediately, he withdrew like I’d slapped him. Surprise and hurt painted his expression, and the temperature in the car plummeted twenty degrees.
“You know what?” he snapped. “I’m tired and kind of hungover, so maybe you should go before I say something I don’t mean.”
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