Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 88955 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88955 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
“Yes,” I said simply. “And hopefully I’ll be able to forgive you someday, but that day is not today.”
Eventually, Clark’s crying subsided, and he straightened awkwardly. It wasn’t the closure he hoped for, but I’d given him a year of unearned loyalty. I wasn’t giving him anything else.
His eyes were red and his cheeks blotchy, and he cleared his throat as he wiped away his tears. It was an attempt to return to his normal state, but his voice was shaky. “Can I do anything to make it better?”
“Yes.” The afternoon had me feeling like I was in freefall. “I’m going to ask you something and I need you to answer honestly.”
Clark looked nervous. “What is it?”
“Do I give up too easily?”
His expression filled with relief and remorse. “There wasn’t anything you could have done to save our marriage.”
My laugh was humorless. “I meant like, more in general.”
“Oh.” He contemplated it for a long moment. “I don’t know how to answer that.”
“That kind of sounds like a yes,” I said dryly.
“Well, it’s really important to you to succeed. That’s not news, right? But I think you get scared and let doubt hold you back. It’s what sabotaged your music career.” His tone was gentle, like a doctor revealing a bad diagnosis. “You weren’t sure if you could make it, but you were sure you could succeed at failing. So, I think subconsciously that’s what you did.”
Holy shit, was that true?
“If you’d thrown yourself at it, gone all in . . . maybe it wouldn’t have changed anything, but who knows? The last year you were making a run at it, you already believed it was never going to happen for you. So, it wasn’t too surprising when that came true.”
I wobbled on my shaky legs because it was a lot to take in. Was my defeatist mentality self-fulfilling? If so, I’d been a hypocrite.
“Too scared of failing to really try,” I said.
Clark nodded. He evaluated my unsteady state and shifted uneasily on his feet. “You all right?”
“Yes.”
And no, because what Jenna had accused me of was right. I’d taken one look at the uncertainty of my future with Troy and let my fear of failure control me.
Could I break the cycle?
After I left Clark’s, I drove home. I didn’t eat dinner that night because my appetite was gone.
I put on my swimsuit, grabbed a glass of water, and got into my hot tub. My emotions were a disaster, and as I soaked, I tried to work through everything. What Clark revealed had done a number on me, and I hid from it for a little while beneath the steamy fog rising from my churning spa water.
Down the slope of my lawn, I heard Cassidy’s playful scream, followed by a splash and Greg’s laugh. They were in the deep end of his pool, and as she hurried to swim away from him, he chased after her. Her escape attempt was halfhearted, and as soon as he caught her, she grinned and kissed him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.
Life is short, Dr. Lowe had said. Do what makes you happy.
I knew what made me happy. It was the man who filled my head with music.
Troy was young and had made a mistake, but no one was perfect. Certainly not me, who’d let her fear of failure hold her back. And up until today, he’d been pretty damn perfect.
When I got out and toweled off, I saw the text messages he’d sent earlier.
Troy: I’m sorry.
Troy: I know you’re scared, and you don’t believe in us yet, but I can believe enough for the both of us.
When I hadn’t responded, he’d sent another later.
Troy: See you tomorrow.
I arrived at the Bridgestone Arena several hours before the concert, and as I put on my VIP lanyard badge, banging came from the stage. The stage techs were hard at work installing the light screens that would be the backdrop for Stella’s show.
It was always strange to be in the space during load-in. The stadium lights were on, illuminating the folding chairs on the floor that were arranged in perfect rows around the engineering booth. Over the stage, the lighting rig was lowered and there were so many wires hooked up, it looked as if it were suspended by a net.
The black color of the stage wasn’t as deep with the house lights on. There was no magic in the space . . . at least, not yet. But it whispered of tonight’s transformation. It’d be a spectacular production for the twenty thousand screaming fans. Even if only half that crowd filed in to watch Troy’s opening act, he’d perform for way more people than I ever had.
A fifteen second sample of Stella’s music burst from the speakers, but then the soundcheck cut off. People hollered at others about tasks still needing to be done, and the arena was a symphony of controlled chaos.