“You don’t need the band, Nik. You never did.”
“Yes, I do. And now with the track leaking, it’s a matter of time before buzz starts. I can’t leave them hanging.”
“Can’t leave them hanging?” His deep voice somehow squeaked. “What about your family? Are you gonna leave us hanging?”
“No, don’t do that.” I shook my head. “I’ve always sacrificed for this family, from day one.”
“And I haven’t? I don’t love my job, and still I knock out the mortgage, utilities, the car note for your fly-ass Range Rover, private school, clothes. All with a smile on my face because that’s what adults do.”
Firewater burned my chest. How dare he? Yes, he was the breadwinner, but I sacrificed my body, my dreams, for our family. “We’ve both sacrificed, and I refuse to go back and forth with you on who does more, but I need . . .” I raked my hands through my hair. “Something that’s just for me. I need to be more than a mom and a wife. I need the music.”
“It’s a fine time to have a revelation.” His hands clenched at his sides. “When we have a mortgage, small kids and one barely potty-trained, and we’re in our fucking thirties!”
“Stop using our kids and my age against me.”
“I’m telling you—”
“And I’m telling you that I’m dying!” I shouted over him.
He stopped pacing and jerked as if he’d been shot.
I pressed forward but didn’t step closer. “I need this, James. And you owe me. I love them, God, do I love our kids. I love you. Nothing is sweeter than a smile and a kiss from you, handsome man. I love the life that we’ve built together, but, still, I . . . I need more. I’m not running away, I’m just asking for more time.”
“So, what?” he whispered. “You want to go on the road? Leave us? You hated touring when you were younger.”
“Just a few months, tops. We’ll start in the top of summer, be back by fall. I need to try, just to see—”
“You’ve made up your mind already, Hardt.” His words sliced at me more finely than a block of Calphalon knives. He used to call me “Hardt,” my maiden name, before we got married. He jerked open the door and slammed it shut.
Not how I’d planned it. No, that’s not true. I didn’t have a plan, other than to keep up the lie. Now I was paying the price. I was suffocating and bleeding and scared.
I shook, like a junkie needing a fix.
Like Daddy.
I thought I’d scraped the bottom of the barrel of pain when Daddy died, but I was wrong. To numb the pain, it was either play my guitar and sing my heart out or . . . or numb it with something stronger. A shot or maybe a few. I wouldn’t get sloppy drunk like Daddy. Drunks were the worst. I loved Daddy, but I could hold my liquor much better than he did.
Walking to my closet, I rummaged through my purse for my flask.
The red-hot whiskey burned my throat but soothed my nerves. The warm liquid stung but then loosened my chest. I could breathe again, and the bleeding from my heart clotted. Gripping the flask, I had no fear. I could do this. There were plenty of musicians who were parents.
“He’ll come around,” I whispered, then took another deep gulp. James loved me. Our love would never die. With those comforting thoughts, I curled up in the corner of the closet and drifted away.
CHAPTER 8
I Think It’s Going to Rain Today—Sienna
“Sienna?” Keith’s voice teetered between agitation and indulgence. My head jerked as I focused my attention on him.
“Smile, beautiful.” He gave me a practiced megawatt smile and nodded toward the official photographer of the Mayor’s Ball.
A bulb flashed. White spots danced in front of my eyes. I grabbed the back of my seat, blinked until I could see, and scanned the spacious ballroom again. I was so nervous the butterflies in my stomach felt like buzzards picking at my insides. Tonight, I’d planned to harass Christopher.
He’d been a slippery fish—avoiding my calls, never responding to my emails or texts. He was a rude one, but he was the best, with over a decade of serving as senior advisor to senators in Washington, DC. I would be darn lucky to snag him. Before tonight ended, I was determined that he would a) work with Keith again and b) become my mentor. Not to mention I was starting to feel like a dud compared to my friends, who’d already made major strides in their goals.
“Don’t worry, sweet cheeks. He’s here. You’ll find him.”
A grin broke across my face. “How did you know?”
He wrapped his arm around my waist. “I just know. And being the confident man that I am, I won’t even get offended that you’re more focused on another man than me. You had that same tenacity in law school when you were determined to get the internship with the Newton Law Group.”
I’d been a terror back then. But after the summer internship, I knew I could never work for corporate, aka the dark side of the law. “Well, I’m doing this for you.”
He gave me a yeah, right look.
“Okay, for us,” I amended.
“I know, sweet cheeks.” He leaned in and brushed his lips against my ear. “Did you notice that we’re just three tables away from the mayor? Much better than last year.”
I patted his knee, remembering how offended Keith had been when we sat toward the back of the room last year.
Servers floated around us as they elegantly cleared off the entrées and quickly replaced them with thick slices of cheesecake. “I’m sure Mayor Edwards will pop by after dessert.”
Keith pointed past my shoulders. “There he is.”
Thinking it was the mayor, I slowly turned my head. My heart sped when I saw him, like a bull spotting a bright red flag. Christopher.
Long, brown dreadlocks were tied behind his head, his piercing blue-gold eyes scanning the room as if on the lookout for someone. His perusal stopped, eyes widening and nostrils flaring when he saw us.
I waved and grinned. He dipped his head and grimaced before pivoting on his heels and marching in the other direction.
I yanked the linen napkin from my lap and tossed it on the table. “What’s up with that?”
“All right, party people, it’s time to dance!” the DJ announced. The diva that is Diana Ross’s sultry voice floated over the speakers, singing, “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough.” I could see Diana’s smile, see her shimmy with all the confidence in the world, telling me to “Go get him, girl!” I didn’t shimmy but instead squared my shoulders and stood.
“Where are you going, sweet cheeks?”
“To go get him.” I stormed away before Keith had the chance to dissuade me or tell me not to embarrass him.
The place was huge. Three hundred people jam-packed, and Chris had effortlessly dodged me. “Dammit. Where is he?” I stretched my neck, even stood on my tiptoes. After ten minutes of fruitlessly circling the room, I wanted to give up. Plus, Diana was no longer cheering me on. Discouraged, I made my way back to my seat when I got a whiff of smoke. Smoke! Chris loves to smoke! Terrible habit, but the man was a chain smoker. He was most likely puffing his poor lungs away outside.
Turning on my heels, I rushed to the entrance of the renovated warehouse and turned a sharp right. My heart revved again when I found him leaning against the brick wall near a silver cigarette bin. Gotcha!