I want to protest and say it’s not fair, that it felt real, that I panicked, but the words wither in my mouth.
She holds up a hand. “Look, I love you, but you’re acting like you’re the only one with skin in this game. You think every other woman he’s been with didn’t want more?” Her look softens afraction. “But you... you get more. If you keep this up, you’ll ruin it. You need to ask yourself if you really want him, and if you do, then you have to understand his job.”
“I know,” I exhale. “I was drunk and just lost it. I look like a fool, I feel like a fool, and I’m not certain if he will ever speak to me again.”
She reaches over and pokes my temple. “He will, because the man is crazy about you. Did you see the way he leapt off that stage? Girls are swooning over it, wishing it was for them.”
I curl up my lip.
She laughs. “Anyway, tell me, what are you going to do?”
“I need to talk with him,” I say. “I have to go see him.”
“Go get ‘em, tiger,” Reagan grins.
An hour later I am at the record label, nervously holding another coffee, trying to avoid anyone making eye contact with me as they walk in and out. The sound system in the lobby of Travis’s office is blaring one of his own songs. The receptionist gives me a once-over and sneers. “Are you on the list?”
She knows who I am.
Knowsit.
“Listen, lady, I’m in no mood. You and I both know that I am on the top of that list and if I called Travis right now, and told him you were being a cow, he would be down here in a second. So, either you tell him I’m here, or I’ll call him myself. Either way, I’m going up there.”
Her eyes widen, and with her lips pursed, she does as I am asking.
She hates me.
I wish I cared.
Five minutes later, I am outside of Travis’ office, swallowing my pride and the saliva in my throat because it is building up way too fast with the nerves swirling in my chest. I close my eyes, and knock. After a beat, he calls, “Come in.”
He’s at his desk, leaning back in the chair, eyes tired like he hasn’t slept. He had to go back on-stage last night, and continue with the show, even after everything. Then no doubt there was an after-party. “Didn’t think you’d be here today,” he murmurs, voice low.
I close the door behind me, stand with my back pressed to it like a child forced to confess in the principal’s office. “Can I talk to you?”
He closes his arms, leaning back so the chair reclines, head tipped to the side. “Go for it.”
I take a breath. “I messed up,” I say. “I’m sorry. I lost it when I saw you with her on stage. I know it’s part of the job, I know it’s stupid, but I just—” I look at my hands. “I don’t want to be the girl who ruins your career.”
His jaw tics. “You’re not.”
“I don’t want to be the girl who ruins you, period.”
He laughs, dry and hollow. “Don’t flatter yourself, Mischief. I was ruined since the day I was brought into this world.”
“Gosh, I wish you didn’t believe that was true,” I whisper. “You’re the best thing I’ve ever had in my life.”
The room fills with silence.
I break it. “So what now?”
“That depends,” he says. His eyes flick up, unreadable. “Are you done running and willing to accept that you and I, we’re something different, something perfect, and that is never going to change?”
“I believe it, but it’s also what scares me. You are different now, Trav, and I’m just...well...broken.”
He pats the desk next to him.
“Come here.”