Читать книгу A Song For Rory - Cerella Sechrist - Страница 11
ОглавлениеSAWYER STOOD OUTSIDE the restaurant and tugged his baseball cap farther down on his forehead. So far, he’d escaped recognition on the streets of his hometown, but he hadn’t spoken to anyone directly, either. He’d only arrived in Findlay Roads an hour ago. He’d flown into BWI Airport and rented a car for the hour-long drive to town. The trip had been impulsive, but he’d taken the text he received from his brother the night of the AHR awards as a sign.
He pulled out his phone and thumbed into the text app to read Chase’s message once more.
Way to go on the awards, bro! It’s a good thing you can sing since I’m the one who inherited the brains in the family.
Even after reading the text multiple times, Sawyer still smiled at his kid brother’s teasing. He supposed he deserved some ribbing. After all, as the older sibling, he’d tortured Chase unmercifully while they were growing up. It was hard to believe his baby brother was finishing up college next year...
Seriously, tho, long time, no see. When are you coming home for a visit? Haven’t seen you since Thanksgiving. Mom and Dad won’t ask you, but I think it’s important you come home for a while. Final exams wrap up on Friday, and then I’m going to be free all summer. Hope 2 C U soon?
Sawyer frowned, as he had the first time he’d read the text. There was something in Chase’s suggestion that hinted of uncertainty, even perhaps vulnerability. But then again, how much could a person really read into a text message?
Still, Chase was right. It had been way too long since Sawyer had last seen his family, and he couldn’t even remember when he’d last visited his hometown. Certainly not since he’d moved to Nashville, and his career had taken off. Then it had hit him.
Rory.
It was the perfect chance to see her again, since his schedule was free for the next few weeks. Sure, Perle would probably prefer that he spend that time doing interviews and the like to leverage his recent AHR win, but he’d wrapped up his concert tour the weekend before last. Soon he’d have to hit the studio to begin laying down tracks for his next album, but he only had a few songs ready to record. Songwriting hadn’t come so easily in the last couple of years. He’d taken for granted how much Rory had influenced his desire to compose songs—without her in his life the music didn’t flow like it once had. Maybe talking to her would spark some fresh ideas. He’d always been eager to get the words and music down so he could play them for her and get her feedback. Besides, he reasoned, he deserved a minivacation after the breakneck pace he’d set over the last two years.
And just like that, he’d made the decision to come home. He’d booked the flight immediately and replied to his brother that he’d see him soon. But even though he was looking forward to time with his family, he was most excited about reconnecting with Rory.
And that was how he found himself in front of Callahan’s restaurant, trying to muster up the courage to head inside. He’d put this off for too long, and even though he didn’t want to wait another minute, he wasn’t sure what to say other than “I’m sorry.”
He owed her an apology. But even more than that, he wanted her back. It had become crystal clear to him in the hours after the awards show, when all his dreams were coming true, that something was missing. That something was really a someone.
He wanted Rory. Needed her. No amount of awards could replace her. She’d been his greatest source of inspiration for as long as he could remember. She had been his constant, through years of doubt and failure. He’d been foolish to think he wouldn’t need her once he hit the big time.
It hadn’t taken too much investigative work to learn she was working that afternoon. He knew, from previous phone conversations with his mother, that Rory had gone to work for her brother after she and Sawyer had split. He also knew she’d moved back to town and into the apartment above the restaurant. According to his mother, Connor’s restaurant had finally taken off. It was mentioned as a four-star dining experience in numerous travel and culinary magazines, and it had gained huge recognition when Connor was the runner-up and then the grand prize winner in the annual Best of the Bay competitions two years in a row.
Sawyer had to admit that the exterior of the place didn’t look anything like he remembered back when Rory’s dad had owned it. The Rusty Anchor sign had been replaced with a sharp, pub-style design, and the name had been changed to the family one of Callahan’s. The place had a cozy but classy feel to it, from the redbrick facade to the black-trimmed window frames. His gaze skipped upward, toward the second floor. He wondered if Rory was up there now or if she was already down below in the restaurant. Either way, his stomach somersaulted at the thought of her being nearby. He was close. So close.
He was a ball of mixed emotions, excitement and nerves competing for first place. What would she think of him showing up here? Would she recognize it as an effort on his part to make things right? Or would she merely see it as an intrusion?
He guessed there was only one way to find out. With another tug on his baseball cap, he drew a deep breath and headed inside the restaurant.
* * *
WHEN RORY CLOCKED in for her shift at Callahan’s that afternoon, she prayed there would be no discussions about Sawyer’s Artist of the Year award. Given that he was a hometown boy and she and he had been known so long as a couple, it was often impossible to dodge his name in conversation, especially from those who didn’t understand that Rory was no longer a part of his life. She had become adept at pat responses: “No, I don’t know what he’s up to these days. He’s so busy recording and touring, you know.” Most people missed the sarcastic edge to her words, but occasionally, someone would cock their head and make their apologies before blessedly changing the subject.
She grabbed her apron from the back room and said hello to Rafael. He mumbled an incoherent greeting in response, his attention fixed solely on the washing machine he was attempting to fix. Rafael had been with the restaurant well before it had become a highly rated, popular establishment. As one of the few original employees, Rory was fond of him, in large part because of his longtime loyalty to her brother. Now that Callahan’s had become a success, Rafael had been promoted from busboy and occasional line cook to maintaining the restaurant and property.
Tying her apron in place, Rory left Rafael to his work and headed back through the kitchen to check what section she’d be working that evening.
Twenty minutes later, she had settled into her server’s routine. She’d topped up the beverages at all six of her tables, provided a fresh bread basket to table eighteen and put in the appetizer order for table sixteen. She approached the computer to tabulate the bill for her four-top at table twelve and noticed the hostess seating a lone diner at table fifteen on the outer edge of her section. It was a slightly isolated table by the window, and one that was sometimes requested by customers dining alone.
Vanessa, the hostess, caught Rory’s eye and hurried over. “I just seated a cute guy at table fifteen.”
“I saw,” Rory replied as she stuck table twelve’s bill into the receipt folder. “I’ll get to him in a minute. I have to finish up with twelve.”
“Okay, but I wanted to give you a heads-up—he asked to sit in your section.”
That got Rory’s attention. She raised her head and zeroed in on the newcomer. He was slouched over the menu, a baseball cap pulled low over his forehead. His posture was relaxed, but she noticed him drumming his fingers impatiently on the tabletop.
Her stomach clenched. She’d seen that gesture a thousand times over the years, in the back rooms of bars before they’d gone onstage, in the airport before he’d shipped out for army basic training, and the day he’d sat her down in a restaurant not nearly so nice as this one to tell her about the record deal from Nashville...right before he broke up with her.
She knew every emotion that accompanied that gesture—excitement coupled with adrenaline and just enough nervousness to keep him cool under pressure. Her entire body tingled, and she wondered if she should try to pass off his table to someone else.
She immediately dismissed the thought. He’d asked for her section. He knew she was here.
Drawing a deep breath, she headed for his table, dropping off table twelve’s check and promising to return for the payment shortly. Ten steps later, she was at his side.
He was facing away from her, looking out the window and over the water. She debated how to begin, whether to admit she recognized him through his thin disguise or behave as the server she was and ask if he’d like to start with something to drink.
In the end, he saved her from having to decide. He shifted in his seat, pulling his eyes away from the gray-blue of the Chesapeake’s water, lifting his gaze to meet hers.
“I forgot.”
“Forgot what?” she asked.
“How beautiful it is here.”
The way he said it made her realize he wasn’t referring to the view, and she fought back the heat flooding her cheeks. He looked the same, maybe better than when she’d last seen him in person. Or perhaps it was her complicated emotions making him seem that way. Sawyer had always been confident, but he seemed to hold himself with even more surety now. But then, setting country music records was likely to do that to a person.
Stabs of both jealousy and grief sliced through her. He’d become famous. He’d fulfilled his dream. And beneath the layers of frustration, a part of her was exceedingly proud of him. But he’d also left her, after years of shared joys and tears, when it was most convenient for him. And she’d spent the last twenty-three months trying to come to terms with the loss of him—her high-school sweetheart, the guy she’d waited for throughout army basic training and deployment, the man she’d traveled all over the United States with as they’d performed their music and chased their dreams.
Sawyer had been her soul mate. At one time she’d been closer to him than any other person on earth, her brother included. She hadn’t had many close relationships in her life, and Sawyer knew that. But she’d had him.
Until fame came calling.
“Rory? Aren’t you going to say anything? Welcome me home?”
He’d called her beautiful, as if that could make up for the heartache he’d caused her.
Without giving it a second thought, Rory turned and grabbed a half-full glass of ice water on a table waiting to be bused.
“Welcome home,” she offered and then tipped the water over the top of his head, dousing him.
And with that, she turned on her heel and stalked away, deciding Sawyer Landry could starve before she’d serve him.
* * *
SAWYER BLINKED THE water out of his eyes and groped for a napkin to wipe his face. He dabbed at his wet chin and pulled his baseball cap lower over his forehead, hoping he wouldn’t be recognized with the attention Rory had just drawn to him.
“I suppose I deserved that,” he admitted aloud and used the sleeve of his T-shirt to mop some water from his jaw.
Seconds later, the hostess appeared with a handful of napkins, uttering profuse apologies for Rory’s behavior.
He shrugged. “I should have seen that coming. Rory never was one to take things lying down.”
The girl blinked, obviously puzzled. Then her eyes narrowed as she studied him, her brow furrowing in concentration. Sawyer looked away, hoping she wouldn’t recognize him.
“You know Rory?”
He pushed back his chair. “Yeah, I’m her—” He stopped. “An old friend,” he said after a beat and stood.
“Sir, please. I don’t know what came over her, but I’m sure the manager will treat you to a meal on the house—”
“Not bloody likely.”
Sawyer turned as Connor, Rory’s older brother, approached the table. The other man’s expression was tight with anger. Sawyer held up his hands in surrender.
“Hey there, Connor. Good to see you.”
“What are you doing here?”
“The place looks great. Your dad would have loved it.”
Connor made an angry noise in the back of his throat and took another step toward the table. Sawyer shifted his eyes to the hostess, in hope of reminding Connor they had an audience. But she wasn’t the only one watching them. From his peripheral vision, Sawyer noticed that most of the customers in the immediate vicinity had paused to witness the confrontation.
“I just wanted to see Rory,” Sawyer admitted. “I thought I’d surprise her. In retrospect, maybe showing up here wasn’t exactly the smartest way to go about it.”
Connor’s jaw clenched in reply.
“Listen, I know it’s more than I deserve, but I’d really like the chance to talk to her.”
“I’m not sure she wants to talk to you,” Connor growled.
“Fair enough. But would you mind asking her for me?”
“She’s working right now.”
Sawyer nodded. “Okay.” He sat back down in his chair. “In that case, I’ll just wait right here.”
Connor crossed his arms. “You’re not welcome here. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
Sawyer released a breath, trying to keep his cool. He and Connor had always gotten along in years past. Sawyer had a tremendous amount of respect for the other man, especially his devotion to his family and his dream of becoming a successful restaurateur. He’d always known Connor possessed the same Irish bullheadedness as Rory; he’d just rarely come up against its full force like this.
Still, the man was protecting his sister. And for that, Sawyer couldn’t blame him.
“What if I order something? I’d love to see what you—”
“No.” Connor’s voice was flat, brooking no argument.
Sawyer opened his mouth to respond but never got the chance.
“Oh, my gosh! You’re Sawyer Landry!”
Recognition suddenly bloomed on the hostess’s face. Sawyer grimaced. Connor blinked.
“You’re him! You’re Sawyer Landry!”
Her excitement spread through the restaurant dining room, first hushed and then louder, like the click of falling dominoes gaining speed.
Sawyer knew it wouldn’t be long before he was assailed by autograph-seekers and picture-takers. Normally, he didn’t mind—it went with the territory, after all. But he’d come here to see Rory, and he didn’t imagine a rush of groupies in the restaurant dining area would endear him to Connor.
“Please, Connor, just tell her I want to talk.”
Connor’s arms remained crossed, his nostrils flared.
One of the servers timidly approached and thrust her order pad in Sawyer’s direction. “Would you mind giving me your autograph?”
“Dani, go see to your tables.”
“But—”
“Now.”
Sawyer heard the snap of photos and looked past Connor to see several restaurant patrons brandishing their phones and clicking away in his direction. He smiled at them and gave a little wave.
Dani began to slink away with an air of disappointment surrounding her.
“How about I drop by later and bring you a signed copy of one of my CDs?” Sawyer offered to her retreating back.
Dani turned, her face lighting happily. She nodded and then caught Connor’s eye before scurrying away again. Vanessa took her cue from her coworker and followed.
Before the two men could continue their argument, a customer approached and held out her napkin, along with a pen.
“Excuse me? Mr. Landry? My daughter is a big fan, and she’d just love it if I could get her your autograph.” She held out her napkin and a pen, and he took the items in hand.
“Sure, what’s her name?”
The woman beamed. “Allison. Allie, that is. Or whichever you prefer.”
He scribbled a quick note, wishing Allie all the best, and then signed his name with a flourish.
He sensed Connor’s mounting irritation.
“Oh, thank you, thank you so much.” The woman paused. “And...would you mind taking a picture with me? Just so I can prove to her it was really you?”
“No problem.” Sawyer stepped to the side so the woman could move in beside him.
She turned to Connor and handed him her cell phone.
“Would you mind terribly?”
Connor did mind, Sawyer could see it, but he wasn’t about to deny a customer. He wordlessly took the phone, framed the shot and clicked as Sawyer grinned broadly for the camera.
“Oh, that’s just wonderful. Thank you!” The woman was speaking to him, barely sparing Connor a glance as she reclaimed her cell phone. “Thank you so much! Allie will be so excited.”
Sawyer looked at Connor, eyebrows raised as though daring him to allow this to continue. A few chairs scraped, and Sawyer had the sense a receiving line was about to form. Connor must have realized it, too, because he grabbed Sawyer by the arm and hauled him away from the table.
“In the back. Now.”
Sawyer shot one last look over his shoulder and saw several crestfallen faces as he was dragged away. Once the dining room disappeared from view, Connor warned him, “I’ll take you to her, but if she doesn’t want to talk to you, you leave through the back. You got it?”
“Got it.”
Connor hesitated, his green eyes cold. “You don’t deserve her forgiveness, you know.”
Sawyer grew serious. “I know. But I’m hoping she’ll grant it anyway.”
Connor gestured for him to follow and didn’t comment further one way or another.
* * *
RORY PACED IN Connor’s office, her black Converse sneakers squeaking on the hardwood floor each time she pivoted on her heel. Normally, she found this room soothing. After the fire that had damaged a large part of the building, Harper had seen to it that the back office was remodeled into a charming work space for Connor. Though it wasn’t overly large, the slate-blue walls and sea-glass collage artwork were calming. Harper shared the space with Connor, too, and while his half of the room was usually a jumble of papers and notes, Harper’s tiny glass-topped desk remained neat and tidy, often with fresh flowers in the pottery vase displayed on the corner surface. Rory had caught Connor adding flowers to that vase on more than one occasion. It warmed her to think her brother could be such a romantic where Harper was concerned.
Today, however, she spared little thought for her brother’s love life. She was too overwhelmed with her own.
Sawyer was here. Back in Findlay Roads. In the restaurant. Sawyer was here...for her? After the last couple of years trying to separate herself from the idea of ever seeing him again, he was suddenly back. And he’d sought her out.
She was still trying to wrap her head around this revelation when a soft knock sounded on Connor’s office door.
A second later, it eased open, and Connor stuck in his head.
Behind him, she caught a glance of Sawyer. She stepped back and shook her head.
“No. Connor, no. I said I don’t want to talk to him.”
Connor grimaced. “I know, but I can’t have him in the restaurant.”
“Then kick him out!”
“He won’t go without talking to you first.”
She scowled.
“Rory, please.” Sawyer’s voice sounded from the crack in the doorway. He edged it open and stood next to Connor. “Just five minutes. Five minutes, and then I won’t bother you anymore. Please.”
She raised her chin. “I can’t. I’m on the clock.”
“Not anymore,” Connor said. “You’re taking a break.”
“I just got here,” she protested, but Connor’s gaze pleaded with her.
“Vanessa can fill in for you for a bit.”
Rory opened her mouth to protest and then closed it. If Connor was asking her to do this then she should. He wouldn’t make such a request of her lightly.
“Fine,” she snapped. “Five minutes.”
Connor appeared relieved and then sheepish. “Um, would you both mind discussing things...elsewhere?”
Rory raised an eyebrow.
“I think it would be better if Sawyer left the premises,” he explained.
“Oh.” Rory wasn’t sure what that was about, but decided that if she was going to talk to Sawyer, it didn’t matter whether it was here or somewhere else.
“Why don’t we take a stroll on the promenade?” Sawyer suggested.
Rory folded her arms across her chest.
“Fine. But your five minutes starts the next time you open your mouth.”
Sawyer nodded but wisely didn’t utter a sound.
* * *
THE PROMENADE WAS blessedly vacant this time of day as people spent the late afternoon hours shopping or sailing on the bay. A few couples were scattered along the boardwalk and one man was fishing over one of the railings, but they were spread out so that Rory and Sawyer were mostly alone.
Sawyer had taken her at her word about when the timer on his five minutes would begin. He said nothing as they’d walked from Callahan’s to the promenade and still remained silent as they began strolling the stretch of boardwalk. After a good three minutes of silence, Rory grew too uncomfortable to allow it to continue. She stopped and turned to face him, crossing her arms over her torso. She made a point of tapping her wrist.
“Okay. You can start talking now.”
But he didn’t, not right away. At first, she thought he was antagonizing her, but then she realized he seemed to be searching for the words. His struggle gave her a moment to study him more closely. His light brown hair was trimmed short around his ears and behind his neck. She couldn’t see any more, since he still wore the baseball cap he’d been sporting in the restaurant. He didn’t wear any sunglasses, despite the afternoon sunshine. A part of her wished he had. It was difficult to stare into the familiar warmth of his blue eyes. He had a faint dusting of scruff along his jaw, and she wasn’t sure if it was an intended effect or whether he’d just not bothered shaving that morning. Maybe he’d been in too much of a hurry...to see her?
She tensed. She couldn’t let herself think such things.
It was hard not to, though, when he kept stealing glances at her, his mouth twitching slightly every time she met his gaze. It was also strange to be standing so near to him, after so much time apart.
He was somehow different...and yet still Sawyer. The way he carried himself was new to her. He moved with an easy confidence, maybe even a touch of arrogance, as if he’d finally found his place in the world, and no one could take him from it.
She hated that. She admired it. She envied it.
“I’m going to start timing you whether you speak or not,” she announced, as much to jump-start the conversation as to take her mind off her emotions.
“You said you wouldn’t start timing until I started talking.”
She smirked at his slip. He made a face.
“Okay, round one to Rory.”
She didn’t reply, simply tapped a finger on her hip, pretending to tick off the seconds—though she was really just waiting to hear what he’d say next.
“Please stop that.”
She ignored him. He groaned.
“Fine. Listen. I’m sorry. I was a jerk. I was selfish and inconsiderate, and maybe a little bit dazzled by the idea of my name in lights.”
“A little bit?”
He looked at her, managing to catch her eyes with his so that she couldn’t look away.
“I don’t know how else to say it except that I shouldn’t have treated you the way I did—you didn’t deserve that. I’ve missed you.”
Her heart began to pick up speed.
“You’re unhappy?”
He hesitated. “No,” he admitted. “I can’t say that I’m unhappy. I...love what I’m doing. I love performing, and I’ve gotten to travel the world. It’s—” he drew a deep breath “—it’s everything I ever dreamed.”
Her heart continued racing, but this time in anger.
“You came all this way to tell me that? ‘I’m sorry, Rory,’” she said, mimicking him, “‘but really, my life’s great now. Just thought you should know.’”
She grunted in disgust and turned away from him, stomping down the boardwalk. She passed an elderly couple seated on a bench and only barely registered their frowns of disapproval. She wrapped her arms tightly around her midsection, holding herself together or holding back her fury, she wasn’t sure which. Seconds later, she heard the soft thump of Sawyer’s footsteps behind her, trying to catch up.
“You didn’t let me finish.”
“You’ve said enough.”
“But I haven’t told you the most important part.”
She almost stumbled in hesitation, but righted herself and took two more steps before he spoke again.
“You didn’t let me say that it hasn’t been worth it.”
She stopped abruptly, and he ran into her from behind so that she staggered forward. The next thing she knew, his hands were around her waist, keeping her from falling. For a moment, just the span of a heartbeat or two, she let him hold onto her and savored the memory of his embrace. But by the count of three, she came to her senses and pushed him away.
“Don’t touch me.” She whirled on him. “Don’t you touch me.”
“Sorry, sorry.” He backed up, hands in the air. He looked pained.
“I didn’t come back to rub things in. I know I’m not the best guy, but do you really think I’m that cruel?”
She shifted from one foot to the other, uncomfortable with the question. As much as she’d tried to vilify Sawyer in her mind over the last couple of years, she didn’t know if she could call him cruel. Selfish, yes. Insensitive, sure. But cruel? No, he’d never been that. The man who had cradled her in his arms the night she’d lost her father was not mean. But even so, he’d broken her heart, and while he might not have done it out of cruelty, his selfishness had wounded her just the same. Just because he was ready to make amends didn’t mean she was ready to let him.
“Why now?” she asked him.
Sawyer hesitated, his eyes flickering with some emotion she didn’t recognize. Guilt? Embarrassment? Whatever it was, she pushed the question to find out.
“After two years of complete and utter silence, why did you come back now?”
“Because I missed you.”
She wanted to believe him, but something didn’t ring true. He wanted something from her, something that went beyond simply missing her and wanting her back in his life.
“A lot may have changed between us in two years, Sawyer, but I can still tell when you’re holding something back.”
He tugged at the baseball cap, a sign of his discomfort. “I’m telling you the truth. I miss you, Rory. More than you can imagine. I think about you all the time. There are nights when I toss and turn because my dreams are full of you and how I let you go. Some days, I forget to eat because my stomach is in knots, wondering what you’re doing, worrying that you’ll move on and find somebody else. I try to write music, but the words won’t come to me because I don’t have you there to tell me which lyrics are good. Sometimes, I can’t even—”
“Wait, back up.”
Sawyer stopped speaking as she held up a hand, but his mouth remained open as he registered her words.
“You’re having a hard time composing music?”
His jaw snapped closed, and he looked almost guilty.
“That’s it, isn’t it?” She began pacing, her steps trying to keep rhythm with her racing heart. “You’re blocked. That’s what all this is about. You’re feeling the pressure to top your first album, and you don’t have anything to write about.”
“Rory, that’s not it.”
She couldn’t even look at him. Because if she did, she might be foolish enough to believe his protests.
“It makes sense you’d come back now. You’re probably due for some studio time, am I right?”
When he remained silent, she had her answer. She found the courage to stop moving and turn her attention on him.
“You thought you could come back here and have some sort of...what, summer fling with me? To kick-start your creativity?”
He appeared offended by the suggestion but a little embarrassed, too. Which only proved her point.
Sawyer hadn’t come back to Findlay Roads because he loved her, because he missed her. He’d come back because he needed a muse. This realization drained the last of her anger and left her feeling sad and tired.
“I really need to get back to work.”
“Rory.”
He stepped toward her, but she automatically took a step back. The hurt in his expression was like a knife to the chest, but she steeled herself against it.
“I’m not here because I need to write new songs. I’m here for you.”
“But it’s not that simple, is it?” she countered, her voice flat.
He conceded with a nod, and for some reason, it felt a little too much like surrender on his part. Was he really giving up so easily? She shook her head, confused. Shouldn’t she want him to give up? To go back to Nashville and leave her in peace?
“I really do need to get back to the restaurant.” Connor was probably worried about her, plus she didn’t like asking her coworkers to pick up her slack.
Sawyer sighed. “Okay. Then is there another time we could talk? There’s some stuff I’d really like to get off my chest.”
She bristled. Not only did he need a muse, but he also wanted her to be his confessor? Nearly two years without a word, and now he was asking her to find time for him to unburden his guilt? Well, maybe she’d show him what it felt like to be humiliated and abandoned.
“Fine then. How about tomorrow?” she offered, keeping her tone cool. “You can stop by the restaurant in the afternoon, before the dinner rush. That’s when I normally get my break.”
Sawyer brightened considerably, and she felt a twinge of guilt. She’d just outright lied to him. She wasn’t scheduled to work tomorrow.
“You don’t think Connor will mind?”
“Leave Connor to me.”
Sawyer smiled. “Tomorrow. I’ll look forward to it.”
His hopeful expression cut into her heart, and she nearly opened her mouth to tell him the truth. But then she remembered how she’d felt, when he’d broken things off with her at the diner beside the Motel 8 in Little Rock, Arkansas. All because he’d been offered a recording contract, on the condition that he was a solo act with no Rory in tow.
She still remembered the words he’d spoken when he sat her down to end their relationship...
“I’m sorry, Rory, but it’s the opportunity of a lifetime. I can’t just pass it up for...” He’d trailed off, looking sheepish.
“For me,” she’d said, finishing the sentence for him. “For us.”
He’d sighed, the sound a huff of impatience. “They think I have a real shot, Rory—that I could be the next country music superstar. Only...it would be better if I was unattached, both musically and personally.”
“So I’m excess baggage, is that it?”
He’d made a gesture of dismissal. “You know it’s not like that. But sometimes, a person has to make sacrifices to go after what they want. And you and I have been together for so long. It’s probably about time we go our separate ways. You understand, right?”
She shuddered at the memory. Oh, she’d understood him all too well. It had been easy for him to toss her aside when something better came along. She had been his sacrifice, but she’d felt more like an old shoe, thrown out when no longer useful.
Because just like that, he’d severed thirteen years of love, friendship and collaboration. He’d drawn a line between who he was and who he wanted to be. He had never even checked in to see if she’d found her way safely back home to Findlay Roads.
Recalling that low point in her life, she managed to shake off her guilt at leading him on.
“Tomorrow,” she repeated, forcing her tongue around the lie. “I’ll see you then.”
