“Easy, Midge,” my father says in a low, warning voice, and I doubt anyone in Midge’s life has ever talked to her like that. Her eyebrows rise upward in surprise, then her eyes narrow on him.
“Cary,” Midge says in exasperation. “Evan loves her, and she loves Evan, and it’s ridiculous that they—”
“Get her the job,” my dad says, cutting Midge off mid-sentence.
“Pardon me?” she says in surprise.
“Get her the job,” he says and stands up from the chair. “Let her make her own mistakes. How will she ever learn otherwise?”
Now I’m affronted.
“This is not a mistake,” I snap at my dad.
“Prove me wrong,” he says curtly and then turns to Midge. “We still on for lunch?”
She gives him a gamine smile, her lips tipped upward appreciatively over the way he just put me in my place all while giving me the noose to hang myself. “Of course, darling. Maybe we can head to your house for lunch.”
At her suggestive tone, I gag internally but also turn my glare on her, peeved she’s enjoying my discomfort.
My dad turns to me and says, “Emma… let me know when you’re moving. I’ll be glad to help with the expenses.”
And with that, he turns around and leaves.
My head turns slowly back to Midge. She makes a shooing motion with her hand and says, “Run along, Emma. Clear out your desk. I’ll have the job arranged by the end of the day.”
I walk out of her office having received exactly what I came in for, and yet I feel like I’ve lost everything.
?
Later that night, I sit on my bed and let my fingers rub absently over my phone screen. It’s dark as the phone is in sleep mode, and I ponder everything that happened today in Midge’s office. As promised, I received an email from her at half past four, telling me I was to start at Crowley and Padrick the following week.
It appeared I was moving across the state.
With a sigh, I turn the phone on and skim through my Contacts. With an iron resolve, I choose my quarry and I dial.
Tyler answers on the second ring. “What do you want?”
“The truth,” I say softly.
Tyler gives a dark laugh. In a voice filled with malice, he says, “The truth is that Evan cheated on you. He found someone far more beautiful and sexier than you, and he banged the fuck out of her in the same bed he used—”
I hang up on him, my heart racing.
That’s not what I expected.
Or what I wanted.
I wanted him to confirm for me all of Evan’s suppositions, but instead, he just shoved my greatest fears right down my throat.
At least, I think he did. That could have just been the fact he’s an asshole, lost his job, and is now taking his ire out on me. Can I really expect him to give me the truth?
Before I can talk myself out of it, I flip over to my email and I scroll through my inbox, looking for the one Evan sent me five days ago. I don’t bother reading it, instead hitting the reply button.
I quickly type out a message. Midge told me you were going to sign a three-album deal with Phoenix. Don’t do it. That’s my opinion.
I hit send before I can second-guess my actions, and then I turn my phone off so I don’t see if he replies. I don’t want to be tempted to engage with him.
I’m terrified if he does, it will be clear just how big of an idiot I might actually be.
?
The next morning, I turn my phone on and brace myself to see what Evan had to say.
There’s nothing in my inbox.
He didn’t respond.
CHAPTER 27
Evan
Two months later…
Midge strides through the restaurant looking like she’s on the catwalk in Milan. She’s wearing a lavender sleeveless dress classically cut with matching lavender pumps and a cream-color cardigan over her toned shoulders. Many of the men, most way younger than her, turn their heads to watch her strut by.
I stand up from my chair as she approaches, and she walks into my arms for a long hug. She leans back, still holding on tight to my upper arms, and lets her eyes roam all over my face. Finally, in a rare display of emotional affection, she murmurs, “I’ve missed you, kiddo.”
“Missed you too,” I say gruffly.
She squeezes my arms and releases me before sitting elegantly in the chair adjacent to mine. We’re at a table that seats four, but it’s tucked away in the corner of this upscale, downtown steakhouse. I’m vaguely aware of the people chittering around us, as I was immediately recognized when I walked in five minutes ago, and of course, Midge always makes a grand entrance.
Our waiter appears practically out of thin air, and Midge and I order drinks. A pineapple martini for her, a beer for me.
“Well,” she says dramatically when the waiter leaves. “Tell me all about it.”
She’s asking about my concert tour, of course. It’s over and now I’m back in Raleigh, getting my bearings and gearing up for the next chapter in my musical career.