Charlie snorts. “I didn’t give her a chance to say much after that. I hung up. Because letting her have the last word makes her think she’s still in control of the situation. And the reality is that she isn’t. Not this situation. Not anymore.”
“Good. It sounds like you’re happy about that.”
She lets out a long, slow breath. “You know, I really am. I think I’m happier than I’ve been in … a long time. Ever, maybe. Between you and us and meeting your family. And now finally dealing with my mother. I feel like …” She pauses, and I wait, letting her figure out how she wants to finish that thought. “I feel like I’m finally the one steering my life. And like anything’s possible. It’s wonderful.”
“That is wonderful.” I pitch my voice lower, full of suggestion. “We should celebrate.”
Her husky laugh is her first response. “Celebrate, huh?” I can see her arching one eyebrow as she says that, and I grin.
“Yeah.”
“I think I know how you want to celebrate.”
I reach down and adjust myself. “Dinner tonight? I’ll practice beforehand so we can spend the whole evening together. Do you think that’ll work for you?”
“Dinner where?”
“I’m not sure yet. Does it matter?”
That low, husky laugh again. “I guess not. I’ll get everything done before dinner, then. What time?”
“Let’s say six to give us both plenty of time for practicing and homework.”
She lets out a groan. “Crap. I didn’t do my assignment for this afternoon’s English class.”
“Better finish your breakfast soon and get to work. See you tonight.”
“Sounds good. Love you.”
A wide smile stretches across my face at her easy use of those words. “Love you too.”
Chapter Sixteen
Fermata: a pause of unspecified length on a note or rest
Charlie
Lauren’s eyebrows raise so far up her forehead that I think they might merge with her hairline. “We’ve already started saying the L word, have we?”
I keep my eyes on my phone as I put it to sleep and set it carefully on the table. “We have.”
She clucks her tongue. “Isn’t this quite the development. I take it that’s what precipitated last night’s … activities?”
“Ha.” I finally look her in the eyes. “Yes, actually. It is.”
Propping her chin on her hand, she examines my face. “And how do you feel about that?”
Her question is soft, curious, and I feel like I’m talking to a therapist. But I consider it anyway, staring into the middle distance over her shoulder and taking stock. After the rollercoaster of yesterday, last night, and this morning, it’s worth doing anyway.
I love Damian. I’m in love with Damian.
I’ve never said those words to anyone unrelated to me before. Not even friends, not that I’ve had many of those since I was a little kid. The last few years, I haven’t even been telling my parents I love them. Not often, anyway. And they haven’t been telling me they love me, either. All our conversations revolve around the next show, the next single, the next recording session. Which producer is shopping their next hit. Which diet I should try next. Which artist is looking to collaborate with me.
But with Damian, none of that matters. He loves me for me. He loves my larger curves and my dark hair and my non-sparkly wardrobe. Being in love with him feels …
“Good,” I pronounce slowly, like I’m saying something of great importance. “Damian’s sweet and considerate and … everything I didn’t know I was looking for.”
Lauren smiles. “I’m happy for you.”
My eyes focus on hers. “I’m happy for me too.”
She picks up her fork and takes another bite of her apple caramel French toast. I’m having the same thing. It’s decadent and delicious. “So what are you celebrating with Damian tonight?”
“Being happy.”
Her brown eyes meet mine again. “That is something to celebrate. Especially for you. Does he know …” She trails off, sticking a bite in her mouth and making a circular motion with her fork as she chews.
I shake my head, cutting a piece of my own French toast. “No. I don’t—” I shake my head and eat my bite, trying to put into words why I don’t intend to tell Damian anything about my other life. I’ve already started thinking of it as that—my other life. Not my real life. This is my real life. This feels real. For the first time in years, I feel grounded and centered and part of something. Not adrift and floating along, buffeted by the twin propellers of my mom and my manager.
“I don’t want him to look at me differently,” I finally say, my voice soft.
“Oh, Charlie,” she starts, but stops when I shake my head.
“Don’t even try to tell me that it won’t change anything. Because it will. Once I became … her, no one treated me the same. Here? With Damian? I can just be Charlie. If he knows, it’ll be ruined.”
Her face is serious, her eyes steady, as she looks at me, her hands still. “So you don’t plan on ever telling him? Does that mean you’re never going back? But what if …” She bites her lip, cutting herself off. “I just don’t see that being realistic forever.”
“Maybe not forever. But for now. When necessity dictates that I tell him, then I will. But I want to do it on my terms, in my own way, after I decide about what I want to happen after this. Everything is still up in the air.” I skewer her with a look. “And as terrible as it sounds, you and I both know that most relationships don’t last. So it may not ever be an issue.”
Lauren’s lips flatten into a thin line, but she doesn’t say anything for a long moment. “If that’s what you think is best.”
“It is.” My voice is steel. A tone I haven’t had to use since I’ve been here. Not with anyone here, anyway. Definitely not with Lauren. She’s been nothing but supportive of this whole crazy venture.
Her eyes drop to her plate, and she’s frozen for a moment. Then she takes another bite, and when she lifts her face to mine again, the look of displeasure at my decision is gone, replaced by her usual impish smile.
“I believe I told you a while ago that you’d have to tell me how he kisses.” She stabs her fork in my direction. “And you’ve been holding out on me. And you need to fill me in on other … details as well.”
I laugh, glad that she’s so willing and able to accept and deflect uncomfortable topics. And to offer her opinion or advice when appropriate, but doesn’t try to browbeat or bully. Unlike certain other people I know.
Once again, I marvel at the weight that’s lifted off my chest at telling off my mom today. I can breathe freely for the first time in years. My life, my decisions, are entirely up to me for the first time. Ever.
Chapter Seventeen
Turn: a multi note ornament, above and below the main note; it may also be inverted
Charlie
“Hey, Gabby! How’s life on tour?” I don’t usually answer my phone while I’m practicing, but when I saw Gabby’s name on the screen, I picked up right away. I haven’t talked to her or Jonathan since I got to Marycliff. Lauren’s given me updates since she talks to Gabby at least once a week. Jonathan and I have never talked on the phone much, unless we’re scheduling something. And I’m really only friends with Gabby by extension.
“Amazing. Exhausting. Exhilarating. But you probably know that already.”
“Mmm.” Exhausting is definitely true. I guess I thought it was amazing at first, but at this point I’m burnt out on all of it. Have been for a long time. Hence the break and blanket refusal to perform for the foreseeable future.
I close the keyboard cover of my piano and lean my elbow on it, settling in to catch up with Gabby. I’ll get back to practicing when we’re off the phone. “So you’re having fun? How’s being engaged? I wouldn’t know anything about what that’s like.”
“It’s wonderful.” She lets out a dreamy sigh, then switches into business mode. “Act
ually, that’s what I called to talk to you about.”
“Oh?”
“We’ve picked a date for the wedding, and we’re sending out invitations soon. It’s going to be in California the week after finals. I’m inviting some of my friends from school, and Lauren’s going to be my maid of honor. I’m sending you an invitation, too, but I know that might be challenging because there’ll be industry people there and there might be school people there. Lauren’s told me that she’s the only one who knows everything, so I don’t want to out you. Jonathan and I really want you to be there, but we don’t want to mess anything up for you. Going to school and taking time off are super important for you, and we’d never want to jeopardize that. So if you can’t come, we understand, but I wanted to give you a head’s up so you have time to think about it.”
She pauses, and I take a breath to reply, but she launches into another volley of words before I can say anything. “Or, you know, I can let you know if anyone from there even RSVPs. Lauren will definitely be there, but since she already knows, that’s not a problem. Really, I’m only inviting a handful of people who I think would like to come. But since it’s all the way in California and none of them are from anywhere near here, it’d cut into their Christmas break plans with their families, so it might not even be a problem.”
Another pause. This time I wait to see if she’s actually done. Or if she’ll keep going. I cover my mouth with my hand to suppress my laughter when she starts talking again.
“But then, maybe you don’t want to see anyone and tip off people to your new look. That might jeopardize your anonymity. Which is why I didn’t plan on asking you to be a bridesmaid. Your cover would be blown for sure. We’re keeping all the plans under wraps to hopefully keep the paparazzi from spoiling the day, but you know how they are. It’s a possibility unless we want to fly everyone to a remote island in Alaska or something. Which we don’t, by the way. It’ll be cool enough in California in December for my tastes. I think I’d freeze to death in Alaska. Surviving two winters in Spokane was bad enough. Anyway, I’m seriously rambling now. Are you going to say anything?”
I let loose the laugh that’s been threatening to break free. A rueful chuckle from Gabby reaches my ears as I struggle to regain control so I can actually talk to her. “Sorry. Sorry.” I wave my free hand in front of my face. “I was going to say something, but then you kept going. And going. So I figured I’d let you talk yourself out. It’s easier to wait sometimes.”
“Ha ha. Thanks. Anyway. I’m sending you an invite. You can just send back the RSVP if you decide on a definite answer. But if you want to know about who else is coming, let me know, and I’ll tell you.”
I suck in a breath, considering that. I’m not even really sure what to think right now. “Are you inviting my parents or manager?”
“Not that I know of. There are a lot of names on Jonathan’s list that I don’t recognize. Hang on. Their last name is Baxter, right?”
“Right.”
There’s a pause, and I hear buttons clicking in the background. “No. You’re the only Baxter on the list. Since your parents aren’t invited, I’m going to go out on a limb and assume your manager isn’t. I don’t know why Jonathan would invite them anyway. He’s not their biggest fan.”
I chuckle at her dry tone on the last bit. “Yeah, well, me either.”
She clears her throat, and I wonder if I’ve made her uncomfortable. We’ve talked about my strained relationship with my parents before when she was helping me plan my escape. But she grew up with the classic, all-American childhood, so I think it’s hard for her to get. Hell, I helped distract her so Jonathan could go see her parents to ask for their blessing when he was going to propose.
I’m not sure how I’d feel about a guy trying to do that with my parents. And it’d go over like a lead balloon with them anyway. I can hear it now. My mom would be frothing at the mouth about the lost opportunities to improve my status through dating around. Although, if she could see a way to spin the wedding for more publicity, she’d probably come around eventually.
Shaking my head to clear it of all that—because it’s not like any of that is even a remote possibility—I refocus on the conversation at hand. “Send me the invite, and I’ll think about it and let you know. You brought up several really good points. If Lauren’s the only Marycliff student there, then I can doll myself up in my typical Charlotte James look with no one the wiser. If there are other students there …” I let that thought hang, chewing on my thumbnail. “I don’t know. So, yeah, let me know if anyone else from here RSVPs, and I’ll make my decision then.”
“Okay. Sounds good. I’ll put you down as a definite maybe.”
I laugh.
“It would mean a lot to Jonathan if you could come,” she says softly after a beat of silence. “You’re one of his oldest friends, and you’ve helped us both in so many ways. It would mean a lot to me if you could come too.”
I blink away the prickle of tears and take in a deep breath. “Thanks. I’d really like to come. I’ll do my best to make it happen. But I still want to know who to expect so I can plan how best to handle it.”
“I totally get it.” I hear more tapping of keys, and when she speaks her voice is different again. A person could get whiplash just from one conversation with Gabby. “So how’s school? Is it as stress free as you thought it would be?”
“Ha. Not exactly. But it’s a different kind of stress, so it’s good.”
“Yeah. It is a lot different, that’s for sure. But you like it? Classes and everything?”
“I do. I’m learning a lot, and finally getting names for things I’ve known but didn’t learn formally.” We spend the next several minutes chatting about school. Gabby sounds wistful, like she misses being here. Or at least parts of it. I know that she wouldn’t trade being with Jonathan for being here, though. Not in a million years.
She fills me in on the last few months of their tour—the crazy schedule, the fan reactions to their engagement, the craziness of using a mobile studio on the road to record the singles with them playing together. And her overwhelming happiness bleeds through in her stories, even the complaints about the frustrations of tour life.
“I’d love to keep talking, but we have plans tonight. I’ll let you know once I start getting RSVPs from anyone else from the music department.”
“Okay. Thanks. I have a feeling I’ll hear about it here, too, if anyone plans on going. Your name comes up in gossip every so often.”
She gives a choked laugh. “Uh, I’m not sure how I feel about that.”
Shrugging, I try to reassure her. “Well, I’m sure it comes up more places than here. You’re engaged to a popstar and have a certain amount of fame in your own right. People talk about you. Might as well get used to it.”
“Yeah.” She sighs. “I know you’re right. But it’s weirder when the people gossiping about you are people you know.”
“Uh, isn’t that pretty normal? Like for anyone? They gossip about everyone else around here. I’m sure you were gossiped about while you were here. Gossip is a universal constant.”
Another rueful chuckle greets that statement. “True. Good point. But I do really need to go.”
“Me too. Gotta get back to practicing.”
“Yes. The never-ending duty of every music major.”
“And performing artist. Your rehearsals aren’t exactly nonexistent these days.”
“Yeah. It’s different though.”
“I know.”
She sighs. The simple release of air communicating a host of ideas—happiness, longing, anticipation of what’s to come. “Alright. I’m sure we’ll talk soon. Good luck with practicing. Have a good night.”
“You too.”
Chapter Eighteen
Trill: a rapid, usually unmeasured alternation between two adjacent notes
Damian
“Hey, Damian,” Zeke greets me as I come through the door, making a quick pit stop for lunch before
my afternoon classes. Charlie has a noon class on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, and I have class at one, so we don’t usually see each other till late afternoon. Even later today, since I have Strings Seminar on Wednesdays at four.
“Hey, Zeke. What’s up?”
He holds up a thick envelope, hand addressed in fancy script. “This one’s yours. We all got ‘em.”
I reach out and take it, dropping my backpack on the floor against the end of the couch. “What is it?”
“It’s an invitation. To Gabby’s wedding to that popstar guy.”
“Jonathan.”
Zeke scratches his chest. “I thought his name was Jonny B?”
Nodding, I slide my finger under the flap of the envelope. “Yeah. That’s his stage name. Gabby always called him Jonathan when she talked about him, though.” Pulling out the interior envelope, I narrow my eyes at Zeke. “Why’d she invite you if you can’t even be bothered to learn her fiancé’s name?”
Zeke shrugs, and I smirk. “I’ve never met the dude. Have you?”
I nod, looking over the invitation, my eyes snagging on the plus one option, a smile taking over my face. “Yeah. I met him once. He seemed nice. He cares about Gabby. Makes her happy. That’s what matters, right?”
With a nod, Zeke indicates the invite. “Yeah. I guess so. You gonna go? It’s in California the first week of Christmas break.”
I look at the date on the card and pull out the little sheet of paper with the instructions on how to book a room at the resort, which is only available for wedding guests. My eyebrows climb my forehead. But I guess when you’re marrying a celebrity, these are the kinds of things you do.
“Maybe. The first week of break means we’ll be back in time for Christmas.” I shrug. “Not like I have a full schedule over the break. Practicing for my recital and the spring concerto competitions. I can spare a few days to see a friend get married.”
Broken Chords (Songs and Sonatas Book 4) Page 12