Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 81423 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 407(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81423 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 407(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
“Fuck, why does this stuff have to be so hard for me? I feel like a kid.”
“Anxiety is nothing to be ashamed of. Jesus, you’re so damn brave to do what you do even when you struggle. You always see what you think are weaknesses and not your strengths.” If it had been me, I might have walked away from music a long time ago, but Remy didn’t. He stuck it out, even when it did things like this to him.
“You always know the right things to say.”
“It’s one of my many talents.”
“Yeah…yeah, I know.” I didn’t need to see him to know he was smiling. “I want this. I don’t want you to think I don’t, but it’s not easy for me. I wish it were.”
“I’m not complaining.”
“You probably should be,” he said, but I ignored it.
“Did you see Steve today?”
“No, I think he was avoiding me. He’s not ready to have this discussion, but I am. I need to do this.”
I frowned. “I don’t want to push you. You need to be sure you’re ready.” While the words were true, they left a sour taste in my mouth. I couldn’t push Remy. It wasn’t right, but it also couldn’t be like it was before. I couldn’t do no-end-in-sight again.
“I want you. We’ve already lost so much time.” He groaned. “Ugh. I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to drag down the conversation. Hey, did you know that mountains aren’t funny?”
He was so fucking silly. I loved it. “What are they?”
“Hilarious—hill areas?”
Shaking my head, I chuckled. “I get it…and it’s a little bit funny.”
He seemed calmer now when he said, “Brit is ridiculous, but she’s sort of great, isn’t she?”
“Yeah, she is. How was your flight?” We spoke about random things for half an hour or so. It reminded me so much of our time before, when phone calls were mostly all we had. When there would be weeks and months where we couldn’t see each other.
After a while, I heard, “He gets you all the time now. I missed you,” Brittany’s voice close to the phone.
I liked hearing her say he was mine, that Remy would always be mine.
“Give me a few minutes,” Remy told her.
“No, it’s fine. She’s right. I’ll see you soon, okay? Bear has been giving me dirty looks all day. I think he’s wondering where you are.”
Remy snickered. “Tell him I miss him. He’s my number-one guy.”
“Fucker,” I teased, happy he was in the mood to joke. “Call me if you need me, okay? Doesn’t matter when.”
“I know. I love you.”
“Love you too,” I replied, trying to ignore the worry squeezing my chest.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Remington
My hands wouldn’t stop shaking.
I’d taken my medication before leaving Brit’s apartment, where I was staying while in town. I liked it better than hotels—it felt more private there—so it was always where I went. Her place was within walking distance of the Manhattan office I was heading to.
I was interviewing with Scarlett, who wrote for a popular music magazine. She wasn’t one of my favorites. She was tough, blunt, and liked to make people squirm.
I took a few deep breaths outside the building—I’d been concentrating a lot more on such a basic human function lately—before shaking my hands out and stepping inside. There was a familiar, uncomfortable buzz beneath my skin as I checked in with security. It started in my chest, riding through my veins, permeating every inch of my body.
It was a bit of a blur from there. They gave me a rundown on what to expect, something we always insisted on. I needed to be prepared for the kinds of questions they’d ask. Most of the time, though, they sneaked others in and the conversation veered, so it wasn’t set in stone. Steve’s assistant, Crystal, was there, but I noticed my manager was nowhere to be seen.
Before I knew it, I was sitting on a chair with Scarlett in front of me.
“It’s been a while, Remington. It’s good to have you here with us again,” she said with a smile.
I cleared my throat. “Yeah, it’s good to be here.” It wasn’t, though. It wasn’t good at all. Could she hear it in my voice? Had it trembled? Did she know I hated interviewing?
“You’ve been quiet lately. Can we take that to mean you’ve been busily writing a new album?” There was a recorder between us, and she also had a laptop she typed on.
“Maybe.” I winked, hoping it came off natural when it felt anything but.
“Aw, come on. Don’t do that to us. I know I’m your fave. Don’t I get the scoop?”
Music really was the safest topic of conversation and the one we were supposed to be there about, so I said, “I’ve been writing. The stuff I’m working on has felt a little different. It’s almost like this sort of high, which I guess I feel a lot when I write, but…I don’t know. It’s weightier in some ways, while in others it’s…more hopeful? Like this blend of…an almost dreamy quality, which probably doesn’t make sense anywhere other than in my head. There are some pretty deep emotions behind it. My heart is definitely on the page.” I was talking about the song I’d written in Law’s bed, and the fact that the bones to another one had hit me after I got off the phone the night before.