“Whatever. I’m going to bed.” I’m not in the mood to hash this out with him in the middle of the night. “Your daughter’s been teething for two days straight, and I’ve held her so long, my arms are numb. So now it’s your turn.”
I should tell him about his stalker dropping off my shredded sweater, but I’m too tired to care. I crawl into the bed farthest from him and face the wall.
A few minutes later, I hear him rustling around the room. Then he kneels by my side of the bed. I stare at this beautiful, frustrating man. At the exhaustion on his face. At his rumpled clothes and disheveled hair. He doesn’t look like someone who’s been partying or messing around behind my back. It gives me a moment of pause.
He gives me a sad smile. “Let’s talk tomorrow. I wanna give you space and let you get some sleep. I just want you to know I’m sorry. I wish I could’ve escaped for a little while to see you and Layla.”
I nod and try not to cry. “Can you wake me before you leave in the morning? Maybe we could talk a little then?”
“Yeah.” He kisses my forehead. “Night, baby.”
Maybe I just need some sleep and I’ll feel better tomorrow.
Except when I get up, he’s already gone.
45
RORY
After the entiremorning goes by without a word from Jace, who left me breakfast and another brief note, I decide I’m done waiting.
When Susan shows up, I’m itching to go. “Thanks for watching Layla. I won’t be gone long. I just need to run a few errands.” Thankfully, the baby woke up in a good mood, so I’m hoping that lasts.
“No problem, dear. I love our little Layla, and I have my knitting to keep me busy.”
I’m not telling her that I’m stopping by the studio in case she calls Frank. I need to see what’s going on with my own two eyes. All I’m getting are clips from Marlowe that basically look like she’s about to run off with my husband.
But I understand how publicity works. Everything’s curated to tell a very specific story. For all I know, Jace and Marlowe are bickering every two minutes, and I genuinely have nothing to worry about.
And thanks to Frank’s itinerary, which he printed for everyone before we disembarked the bus on Sunday, I knowwhere the studio is. But I’m nervous. I’m not the band-rehearsal-crashing type of girl, and I almost puke in the Uber.
Hopefully, this won’t be like that label event where the waiter wouldn’t let me in. Because I can’t call Jace to come get me because I’m assuming he still doesn’t have his phone. Will Frank let me in? Or will he think I’m a distraction?
By the time I get there, I’m a sweaty mess. It’s a million degrees outside, and my hair frizzes out the moment I step out of the vehicle. As I stand in the street, lightning strikes in the distance. The air is so humid, it’s hard to breathe.
I’m just wearing a t-shirt, shorts, and Chucks because I was too upset to put more effort into my outfit, but when the studio buzzes me in, I start to wish I’d put more thought into my clothes.
The girl at the front desk smiles at me, and I return it. “Hi, I’m with Wayward Sons. Could you direct me to their space?”
“Oh, sure. Just down that way in studio A.” She leans over the counter and pops her gum. “They’re so popular. I’ll be surprised if they get anything done. They’ve had a ton of visitors.”
Interesting.
I duck into a bathroom to check my hair and dab on some makeup. I wish I was wearing Honey’s dress and the heels I donned for Taylor’s reception. I’m starting to realize that clothes can feel like armor, and right now, I look like a kid about to walk into the lion’s den.
After I apply some mascara and lipstick, I tie my hair into a ponytail so it’s not so frizzy. This will have to do.
As I head to the studio, my heart thrashes against my chest.Calm down, Aurora. You’re just dropping in to see Jace. No biggie.
Studio A has a door with a window, so I peek in. The room is split in two. The part closest to me has a giant console with lots of little buttons that some guy adjusts. I don’t know if he’sa sound engineer or producer, but he looks serious. Then there’s Frank and a man in a suit. Behind them, lounging on leather couches, are Marlowe’s bandmates and a few glammed-up girls I recognize from the tour, including my favorite person, Karina.
It’s nice to know Karina gets to hang out at Wayward Sons’ recording sessions, but I can’t.
I close my eyes and pray I’m not about to humiliate myself.
Here goes nothing. With my heart in my throat, I open the door. When Frank spots me, I hold my breath and pray he doesn’t kick me out.
To my surprise, he smiles and waves me in. Thank God he’s in a good mood.