She felt sick.
When Alex finally came home, she walked through the door, stopped short at the sight of Bridget, and then stuffed her hands into her pockets. “What’s going on?” she asked warily.
Standing, Bridget wiped her clammy palms on her jeans. Alex deserved the truth. She deserved for Bridget not to dance around the issue or mince words. So Bridget took a deep breath and said, “I’m moving to New York.”
Alex’s eyes began to water, but she swallowed hard, and no tears fell. That was Alex, burying everything until there was no room left in her chest.
Bridget stepped closer to put one hand on Alex’s hip and slide the other against her cheek. “I owe it to myself to see where this could go, and I think you need time to heal that isn’t compromised by me rushing you—even if I don’t mean to.”
And maybe Alex would see it as a wake-up call. She’d accept the translating job in DC that she’d told Bridget she hadn’t gotten, the one Bridget now knew she’d lied about. DC could be a fresh start for her, something Bridget thought Alex desperately needed.
Alex still didn’t say anything. She’d always been less quick with words than Bridget. She liked to process and weigh and take her time.
“It feels like I’ve been holding my breath,” Bridget continued. “I want to live, Alex. I want you to live, too.”
This decision was because she loved Alex, not despite it. But how to get Alex to understand that?
When Alex finally spoke, her voice was little more than a whisper. “You said you’d always take care of me.”
Bridget remembered that promise. Of course she did. The first time, they’d been in Alex’s freshman dorm room, and she’d made that promise countless times since. She rested her forehead against Alex’s. “But I can’t if you won’t let me.” Fuck, this was ripping her apart. And she couldn’t even imagine what it was doing to Alex. “And this doesn’t… This doesn’t have to be good-bye.”
“How can it not? You’re going to a different state.”
“One that’s not far away. It’s not the other side of the world, and it’s the twenty-first century. We’ve got cellphones and Skype and e-mail.”
Bridget couldn’t stand it any longer, and she took advantage of Alex’s silence to kiss her—really kiss her, like she’d never have another opportunity to memorize those soft lips, to breathe in Alex’s calming scent. But she would, she would, she would. Once they did a little bit of soul-searching on their own, they’d have all the time in the world to be together.
“Everything’s taken care of. You don’t have to worry about a thing,” Bridget said as she broke the kiss. “My mom’s going to pay my half of the rent for the next two months until the lease is up. Then you can go home, be close to the café. So you don’t have to worry about anything, not a thing. I promise, baby.”
“Right. Right.” Alex backed away a step. She could barely look at Bridget.
Bridget couldn’t blame her. She grasped both of Alex’s hands and squeezed. “I’ll call you. I’ll text you. This isn’t the end. I swear to you.”
Now
Bridget wasn’t all that into exercise. Alex had always been the one to drag her to the gym or challenge her to a race. Before a concert, though, the best way she could calm her nerves was to go for a run. Not a fast one, because she wasn’t fast. Not even a particularly long one. But she liked the ritual of it.
She dressed in warm leggings and a long-sleeved athletic jacket that covered her neck in preparation for the autumn chill. She tied her sneakers, cued up her running playlist, and hit the sidewalk. Each pound of her feet against the concrete tethered her to Earth. She wasn’t a superstar making millions a year who got recognized on the streets and asked for autographs. She was just a woman with less-than-stellar athletic ability wheezing her way through a two-mile loop.
Music pounded in her ears, upbeat, almost frantic. She didn’t try to keep time, just let the beat flow into her body like it was the source of her energy. Her mind went blank. It was only her right foot striking pavement followed by her left foot doing the same. It was only her lungs expanding and compressing. It was only the wind rushing past her face.
And if she was only these things, only the sum of them, then she couldn’t be in pain.
Alex rubbed her hands together. She’d finished helping Riley set up the Marlow Brews booth and had a bit of time to kill before the festival officially opened.
“I’m going to take a walk around the park,” she said.
Riley nodded and didn’t question her.
Alex took a deep breath. She could do this. She could. With the festival springing up around her, she was more certain than ever that she and Bridget weren’t meant to be. She was a small-town girl. She loved the quiet streets and the wide, open sky, and even the way everyone knew who she was. She didn’t want to trade that in for anonymity, for being just another among millions.
It was a beautiful, sunny day, and the park was abuzz with activity. Town employees set up the stage for the concert, and the booths ringing the park were already getting great foot traffic even though the festival wasn’t officially open yet.
She stepped off the path in the middle of the park to look around for Bridget but didn’t see her. The concert wasn’t for another few hours, which meant she was probably at home practicing and preparing.
This was stupid. When she turned around to leave, she knocked shoulders with someone, someone big and solid.
“Sorry,” she said.
“Not a problem.” This guy was definitely not a local, but he looked familiar somehow. He gave her a bright smile and held out his arms. “See? No damage done.”
“Well, okay, then. Have a good day.” Alex started to walk away.
“Wait.”
She stopped. “Something I can help you with?”
“Yes, actually. Directions. To the Callahan house.”
“Oh.” She rubbed the back of her neck. She wasn’t certain of much right now, but she did know she shouldn’t be giving out the address of a famous musician to some random guy.
“Where are my manners?” He held out his hand. “I’m Patrick Norwood. She’s my ex-girlfriend. I’m not a stalker or anything. Just here to support the concert. The problem is I wanted it to be a surprise, and she never actually told me where she lives…”
Right. Bridget’s movie star ex-boyfriend.
Of fucking course.
She accepted the handshake. “Alex. I’ll take you to her place.”
“Really? That’s awesome. Thanks.” He shouldered his duffel bag and followed her to the truck.
The Callahan house was only a few minutes away by vehicle, and they were soon cruising down Main Street.
“Bridget was right,” he said. “She always talked about how nice the people were.”
“She talked about us?” Alex asked, surprised.
“All the time.”
“Huh.”
“This is so nice,” he said as he studied the passing shops and houses. “Have you lived here long?”
“Born and raised.”
“That’s awesome.”
Alex held back a snort of laughter. Only someone who didn’t grow up in a tiny-ass town in the middle of nowhere would think that. She pulled up to the curb outside the Callahan house. “This is it.”
“Thank you so much for the ride.” Patrick said as he got out. Standing on the sidewalk with his bag shouldered, he took a hundred-dollar bill out of his wallet and held it out. “I really appreciate it.”
Alex raised her eyebrows at the bill before shaking it off. “No problem.”
“Are you sure? You took me out of your way.”
“I’m sure.”
“Well, thank you again,” he said, putting the wallet back in his pocket and heading toward the house.
A crease formed in Alex’s f
orehead. Part of her wanted to torture herself, wanted to stay and watch as Bridget opened the door and threw a hand over her mouth in surprise and pulled Patrick into an embrace.
But she was smarter than that. Or at least getting smarter. So before he reached the door, she shifted the truck into drive and pulled away. What Bridget did wasn’t any of her business.
Not anymore.
Not ever.
“Patrick?” Bridget could hardly believe her eyes as she stepped into the living room, where Patrick jumped up from the couch to hug her. She considered him a friend, but beyond some catch-up and check-in texts, they hadn’t spoken in-depth in weeks.
“It’s so nice to see you, Bridget,” he said.
She pulled back to look him in the eye. “How did you even get here?”
“Oh, my Lyft dropped me off at the park because that’s where the concert is, but a local offered me a ride here. I had to explain I knew you, of course, and wasn’t some obsessed fan.”
The town was full of nice people and even more people who’d jump at the chance to drive a celebrity around their hometown.
“I think her name was Alex,” he added.
Bridget’s heart stuttered before it settled back into a normal rhythm. She curled her arms around herself. “Wh-what are you doing here?”
“It was Pippa’s idea, actually. She thought if I introduced you at the concert, it would give you some good press,” he said, his voice kind.
“Good, old Pippa,” Bridget said, “always looking out for me. You came out of the breakup squeaky clean, though, so why agree to come all the way to small-town Pennsylvania for a weekend?”
“You know me. I can never resist the spotlight. Plus, I still care about you, Bridget, and I want to support you. If that’s okay.”
Bridget smiled. He always had been supportive of her music. “Of course it’s okay. Thank you for coming.”
He nodded and clapped his hands together. “Now, tell me what I can do.”
He was no musician, but his famous mug would still give the concert a boost. Oh, her fans would love that. The gossip rags might take his sudden appearance the wrong way, though. Was that something she wanted to risk? Now, when things with Alex were so fragile?
Patrick nudged her shoulder. “I’m here if you just want to talk, too.”
She looked straight into his clear blue eyes, saw honesty there.
He drew her to the couch, and they sat down facing each other. “If this has anything to do with what we talked about that night, I’m okay, Bridget. I promise. I’d like to think we’re friends.”
That night, the night they’d broken their engagement and she’d confessed that she’d never truly been able to move on from her last relationship. And Patrick, gentleman that he was, had understood.
Her lips twitched in a small, appreciative smile. “She…” That was all she managed before the tears burned her eyes and she knew she couldn’t say anymore without letting them go. She swiped a finger under her eye.
“Have you seen her?” Patrick asked.
She nodded.
“Talked to her?”
More than that, even. So much more.
He read her silence. “You’ve only been here, what, a few weeks? Things like this—big things, the things worth doing—take time.”
“That’s what I said,” Max called from the kitchen.
Bridget chuckled wetly, but she smiled when her best friend joined them in the living room with a cup of coffee for each of them. She took her mug gratefully and sipped down the lump in her throat. She cradled it against her chest, feeling the warmth spread into her palms. “She doesn’t see a future for us,” she said. “She thinks we’re from two different worlds and that if we start something, we’ll only end up breaking each other’s hearts again.”
Patrick and Max, both quiet, exchanged a loaded look.
“Well,” Max said, sipping his coffee, “the only thing to do is change her mind.”
“Gee, thanks for that insight,” Bridget said. They didn’t know Alex like she did. They didn’t know how stubborn she could be. “How, exactly, do you suggest I do that?”
Patrick smiled charmingly. “Oh, a hometown sweetheart playing a charity concert that’ll be broadcast all over the internet? I’m sure we can think of something.”
“Did you guys hear that Patrick Norwood is going to introduce Bridget?” someone said as they walked by the Marlow Brews booth.
Alex, folding up the banner that hung on the front of the booth, suddenly found it hard to swallow. So, he wasn’t just here for support. He was involved now. She placed the folded banner in a crate. It was none of her business anyway.
“You’re not staying for the concert?” Riley asked, leaning against the booth’s frame.
Alex indicated the crates loaded with their supplies, including the money pouch. “Someone’s got to take this back to the bar.”
“I can do it,” Riley offered.
“That’s okay. I’ve got to relieve Hunter anyway. He wants to come to the concert.”
“Why don’t you just close the bar?” Riley asked. “It’s not like there will be anyone there anyway. They’ll all be here.”
Alex shrugged. “We’ve never closed during the festival any other year.”
“Yeah, and Bridget Callahan hasn’t performed any other year either. Just stay.”
Alex shook her head. She didn’t have to explain herself to anyone, didn’t have to make herself any more vulnerable than she already was.
“Enjoy the concert.” She walked off before Riley could stop her.
Back at the bar, Hunter was bursting out of his skin to clock out and head to the park, where he was meeting his girlfriend. Once he left and Alex had finished putting the supplies away and locking the money in her office, she realized Riley was right. There was no one here. Most years, there were at least a few people who didn’t care about the concert and preferred to pass the night in conversation over a couple of drinks.
She cleaned. She wiped down the bar and all the tables. She refilled the napkin dispensers and condiment containers. She swept the floor. She washed the chalkboard and rewrote the specials. When she was done, only half an hour had passed. She scoffed at the clock, tempted to throw something at it but not invested enough to replace it.
There was no avoiding it, was there? With no customers to serve and no friends to talk to, there was nothing here to distract her.
Twisting her lips in disappointment at her lack of willpower, she grabbed her laptop from the office, slid into a corner booth, and pulled up the livestream of Bridget’s concert. If she couldn’t avoid it completely, at least she didn’t have to be around the entire town while she watched.
Bridget gulped down half a bottle of water and wiped her face with a towel before setting down her guitar and settling onto the piano stool. The crowd, though smaller than the ones she normally played for, cheered only for them. This was what she lived for. Not the adoration, just…the energy, that feeling of being alive that she couldn’t get anywhere else.
She shared a private smile with Max, who knew how much she fed off this, before she said into the microphone, “All right, everyone, we’ve got one more song for you.”
The crowd expressed their disappointment—loudly—and she took the opportunity to sneak a nervous glance at Max. He nodded. He was with her.
“Before we do that, though,” she continued, “we have so many people to thank. To the whole town and everyone here, thank you for putting on this festival. The city council, I appreciate the work you do, but you could stand to pay your teachers more. Let’s not make this a yearly thing.” She paused to allow a chuckle from the crowd. “Thanks to my mom and brothers and sister-in-law for welcoming me home after I’d stayed away so long. My agent, Pippa, for not having a heart attack when I told her I was doing a free concert. Owen
for setting up the livestream.”
She pointed to him, Jordan, and Lu. Keiko was wrapped against Jordan’s chest, a set of noise-canceling headphones dwarfing her tiny head.
“And Jordan and Lu for your forgiveness.” Bridget took a deep breath. “And to everyone who’s made me feel like part of this town again. I’m so sorry for staying away. I promise I won’t anymore.”
The crowd clapped and hooted at that.
She smiled. “Can you tell I’m stalling?” Off their laughter, she said, “Yeah, you can.” She licked her lips and took another sip of water. “Well, the thing is—I’m stalling because outside of me and Max, no one’s ever heard this song. It’s about someone very special to me. A lot of people here in this park probably know what I’m about to say, but bear with me, please.”
Max touched her elbow in a small but powerful gesture of solidarity.
“Her name’s Alex,” Bridget said, unashamed of the shake in her voice, “and she’s the only person I’ve ever truly loved. But I made a mistake a long time ago, and I’m still paying for it today. God, there’s so much I could say right now, so much I could apologize for. But I want to say those things to you, Alex, when I know you’re listening.”
An ‘aw’ ran through the crowd.
“Instead,” Bridget continued, “all I’m going to say is I’m sorry, and I love you. I love you enough to want to make a future with you. And if you think you could feel the same way—maybe not tonight, but sometime down the road—then meet me at midnight. You’ll know where.”
She turned away from the mic to let go of a shuddery breath. She’d been scanning the crowd all night, but Alex was absent. She tried not to let it hurt, but it did.
Always a Love Song Page 18