A squawk comes from the corner. “Shove it up your ass.”
Correction—memories, Esteban, and—dammit—that stupid ring.
11
Boone
Icrumplethe paper in my hand and toss it on the floor beside the lectern. Cameras click and flash in front of me.
“Y’all know me. I’m not the type to read some polite statement from my publicist when I can tell you how it really is.”
A few chuckles come from the crowd of reporters, and my publicist covers her face with a hand.
“I’m not an eloquent bastard, so I’ll keep it short. Sometimes shit doesn’t work out the way you plan. That’s life. It’s what we do when things don’t go our way that defines our character. I’m not gonna run Amber’s name through the mud, so if that’s what you’re here for, you might as well get a head start on leavin’. But I will say this—just because she chose someone else doesn’t make him the better man. You want to know more about how I’m feeling? Pick up my next record.”
I back away from the lectern and walk out of the room before they have a chance to start clamoring with their questions.
Once I’m out in the hall, Charity, my publicist, steps forward and announces that the press conference is over. Both Nick’s heavier footfalls and the click of her heels follow behind me within moments.
“Were you trying to give me a heart attack when you decided not to read that statement?” Charity’s voice is higher pitched than normal, which usually means she’s trying not to lose her shit.
I shoot her a look, one eyebrow raised. “Seriously? You actually expected me to read that canned statement? You have met me before, right?”
Nick waves at the door to an empty office and we all step inside as the reporters spill into the hallway. Once he shuts the door, he crosses his arms over his chest. “I think he nailed it. They’ll be slavering to get their hands on the next album, which means Boone can dry his eyes about this Amber mess on a nice fat pile of cash.”
Again, it’s always about the money with Nick. At least I can count on one thing that never changes.
But as for the next album ... hell, I told them that’s where they’d find out what I’m feeling, but the truth is, I don’t feel a damned thing right now. I’m totally empty. Devoid of emotion. Maybe it’s self-preservation, but I’ve got nothing to fuel the creative beast. At least, nothing but bruised pride and regret.
My new phone buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it out.Ma. She must be watching the news. Nick and Charity are debating something, so I step away and answer.
“Hey, Ma. How’s it going?”
“I saw your press conference. Baby boy, I’m sorry you’re dealing with this, but you handled it like a champ.”
“Just said what I needed to say.”
“I know ... and I know you don’t want to hear this, but I think this whole mess is the Lord’s way of ensuring you didn’t make a mistake that would stick with you for the rest of your life.”
I let her words roll around in my brain before I respond. “Since when have you thought me marrying Amber was a mistake?” My folks were reserved when I told them about my plan, but neither of them came out and said it was a bad idea. Now that I think back on it, maybe I should have taken more time to think about their reactions.
“I didn’t say it was a mistake. She was a nice girl, but ...”
“What, Ma? Just tell me.”
“Just tell him, woman. You shoulda told him earlier.”
My dad’s voice comes over the phone, and I picture him standing beside Ma in the kitchen while she calls me.
She pauses for a moment before she drops the bomb. “Amber made it pretty clear that she didn’t want kids the last time you brought her around.”
The confession hits me like a knife to the chest, because having kids is really fucking important to me. I thought the last time we talked about it, Amber was on the same page, that we both wanted to start a family while we were still young enough to enjoy doing all the shit kids want to do.Jesus Christ.How much of what she said was bullshit?
I clear my throat. “She really said that?”
“I’m sorry, Boone. I was hoping you two would work it out if you went through with asking her, but she started rambling about wanting to start acting and how she couldn’t ruin her figure with kids.”
I clench my teeth as the knife twists. “I gotta go, Ma.”