The pictures of us were already swirling around online. His ‘goodbye’ felt final. I stared at the date. The end of next week. The rest of the schedule was laid out in black and white. Going would cause a bottleneck, which would mean mainlining Red Bull and coffee for a week, but I needed to do this. I needed to show him and myself that we’d made our amends and we could both move on. I didn’t want either of us to have to carry this baggage around anymore.
“I want to do it.”
“I figured.” His head jerked in a sharp nod. “Already working on rearranging the schedule.”
One week.
“There are a few press events they’ll need you to do a week or so before.”
“Whatever they need.” I ran my fingers along the smooth edge of the table. “Do—do you know if he’ll be there?” I was a stupid, hopeless idiot for doing this. For hoping to see him again and have an excuse to talk to him one more time. Maybe knowing it would be the last time would make it easier to watch him walk away from me.
Helping his foundation was the least I could do. No expectations. No strings attached.
“I don’t know. I can confirm before we respond.”
Shaking my head, I looked out the window. The weather didn’t feel as bleak as it had before. “No, that’s okay. I’ll do it no matter what.”
Even if he wasn’t there. The least I could do was support a charity that meant a lot to him. My face and name could be used for something other than selling albums or magazine covers.
“And recording in Philly? How do you feel about that? At least for the partial tracks for the album.”
“I thought you said we’d do it in Atlanta.” We’d looked for rental houses so we wouldn’t have to stay in a hotel the whole time. We’d talked about collaborations with local artists. This didn’t make any sense.
Holden’s head tilted and he leveled a long, assessing gaze at me. “I think Philly will be better for you. Plus, Without Grey recorded their last album there and they just went double platinum.”
“What about all the things we signed off on in Atlanta?” Panic gripped my chest. “Did Leon cancel the deal? Does he not want to work with me?”
We’d sat through two hours of meetings before signing a huge stack of papers at the end. I’d had to initial every page before handing it over to Holden.
“It wasn’t his choice. It was mine. It’s my job to take care of that stuff, isn’t it? He had an oversized ego and a piss-poor attitude.”
“But—” The argument died in my throat, totally wiped out by relief. Thinking of working with Leon so closely hadn’t settled my nerves one bit. Recording in Philly meant being closer to Keyton. The jury was still out on whether that was a good thing or not.
“He wasn’t going to help you get through the album any easier.”
“He’s one of the best in the business.”
“So are you.” He winked. “Plus, you’ll be getting me a new watch for Christmas to make it up to me for sorting it all out.”
“Don’t you already have one?” I tapped my finger against the glass face of his watch.
He hissed and jerked his arm back, petting the brushed steel around the glass. “Don’t ever touch a man’s watch like that.” Slipping a square cloth from his inside jacket pocket, he ran it over the face of his watch.
For a guy so into his clothes and watches, looking at him, I’d have thought he was an athlete for sure. A posh sort though. Maybe polo or crew. Something refined and too expensive for anyone without multiple zeroes in their bank account to even attempt.
“Where should I send the Christmas present? Are you going to visit your family?”
His wry chuckle was followed by an eyebrow jump. “Another fishing expedition?”
I rested my elbows on the table, leaning forward, happy to have the attention off me. “I could hire a detective, you know? Find out all your Holden Yates’ mysteries.”
“This threat again.” He shook his head and barely contained his eye roll.
He’d perfected the manager, man-in-the-shadows mode.
“You know everything about me, and sometimes I feel like we’ve only just met from how little I know about you.”
“You know tons. I’m an impeccable dresser.” He tugged at the lapels of his blazer. “I can bench press two hundred pounds. I have outstanding taste in watches, wine and women.”
“In that order.”
His gaze narrowed. “One more word and I’ll leave you on the tarmac. You’ll have to find your own way back to the hotel.”
I flipped open the notebook in front of me and scribbled down the words at the top of a new page. “Idle threats.”
“No.” He grabbed for the spiral bound paper. “Do not do it.”
“‘Glaring. Glowering. Growling.’ The fans are going to eat this up.” I played keep away with my notebook. “All about a gritty drifter crisscrossing the country, sorting through thrift stores for clothes and shoes.”
He flopped back into his chair with his arms folded across his chest, his face a half step from a pout. “You wouldn’t.”
“Oh but I would, if you don’t make like a piñata and start spilling some sweet secrets. One thing. I know you’ve got an older brother and a younger sister. Both parents are alive. At least they were two years ago. Outside of that, I feel like I know nothing about you.”
“We spend eighteen hours a day together. You know all there is to know.” He said it like we didn’t all have a past. One that shaped and guided us no matter how much we pretended it didn’t.
“I know you now. You know about all my baggage and secrets.”
“Hard to miss them when you’ve literally written three albums spilling them for the entire world.”
“Did you come straight from London to LA? Did you go to college in the UK?”
His head snapped up. “How did you know I lived in London?”
I rolled my eyes. “It’s the only city where you disappear for hours on end when you’re off the clock. Plus, I saw you from the balcony the last time we were there. You were saying goodbye to four or five people. I figured if you knew that many people there, you’d probably lived there.”
“The one time you weren’t watching House Hunters… I lived there. Went to boarding school from the time I was fourteen. It wasn’t long enough to pick up the accent though.”
“Instead you went with an ‘old money from the Northeast’ accent.”
“I don’t have an accent.”
“Not so much an accent, but an air. Carefully crafted.”
His huff of amusement turned into a smile. “Oh, how it has been. Now you have your one bit of information. I lived in London.”
“What? No, I found that out on my own. I need something else. Come on, I’m starved for information.”
“Fine, I hate pizza.”
I gasped. “Get the hell out!” I pointed to the airtight plane door. “Who even are you?” Clutching my notebook to my chest, I shook my head and stared back at this alien imposter who’d been in my presence for the past six years.
“But you’ve eaten it in front of me.”