63. Jackson
63
jackson
Margot’s eyes widen, and a bewildered laugh leaves her lips. “What?”
I scratch the side of my head, barely believing the words coming out of my mouth. “Come with me,” I say again.
She starts to laugh again, but her smile fades when she realizes I’m not joking. It’s a big ask, and she might say no, but I don’t know why it’s taken me so long to think of it. I mean, I guess I do. The van was too small and things between us were too new. Then the RV wasn’t much bigger, and she was excited about her internship. But I’ve been thinking about what it would be like to have her with me ever since Dave mentioned it. I don’t think I was expecting the band to be so on board with me bringing my girlfriend, but I guess Margot has become more than that to them.
I know she’s more than that to me.
She stays frozen in place. “You’re serious.”
It isn’t a question, but I nod anyway. “Or don’t,” I quickly add, and her eyebrows pinch. “I’ll do whatever you want. If you want to stay here, I’m fine with long distance. But if you hate that, I’m fine with you coming with us—more than fine. ”
She opens her mouth, but no words come out at first. I think I may have stunned her into silence until she finally asks, “In the RV?”
My lips lift. “No, we’re renting a tour bus. I think the guys are picking it up tomorrow.”
Her eyebrows shoot up. “Tomorrow.”
Shit, she’s freaking out. “I don’t mean you’d have to come with me tomorrow. I just mean, there would be plenty of room . . . if you decided to come.”
She doesn’t look any less confused. “On tour with you.”
I let out a breath of laughter. “Yes.”
She blinks, her hands flying up to stop me. “Wait, you’re leaving tomorrow? ”
I grimace and pace a few steps closer. There’s still a kitchen island between us, so I rest my elbows on the counter. “Didn’t you see the tour announcement?”
Margot comes closer until she’s up against the counter on the opposite side of the island. Her cheeks flush. “I might have blocked the band.”
“Committed,” I say dryly, and she gives me an apologetic look. “Well, Brian had to add dates to the beginning of the tour or something, so now we’re getting thrown into it without much of a break. The other guys all stayed, but they let me come home for a day.”
She frowns. “You flew across the country, just to see me? For one day?”
“Why are you saying it like you’re surprised?”
“Because I am surprised.”
“You shouldn’t be.”
“But we’re not together.”
I level my gaze on her. “Yes. We are.”
Her cheeks flush, and she shifts her weight. I like that she still squirms when I look at her. She must register my amusement because she scoffs and turns away. “You’re impossible. ”
The corner of my mouth twitches. She’s cute when she tries to put up a front.
She spins on her heels to face me again. “So, you want me to drop my life and tour with you?”
“I want whatever you want. I’m just saying, you can.”
She huffs. “What about school?”
I shrug. “Take classes online.”
“And my job?” She bites her thumb.
“You’d have to quit,” I say with a nod.
She frowns, and her hand falls to her side. “But I like my job.”
My lips lift as I push off from the counter. Walking around the island, I stop when I’m directly in front of her. Holding her face in my hands I say, “No one is asking you to give up anything. I just want you to know you have options.”
“Options.” She repeats the word like it had never occurred to her.
“And I can still be an accountant if you want, but I’d make you tell Brian. He can be a real asshole when he’s mad. You should have seen his face when I told him I was coming here instead of recording.”
She pushes me away with a shake of her head. “Would you stop? You’re not becoming an accountant.” A low chuckle escapes me as she steps away, and she smiles at the sound. “Wait,” she says, registering what I just said. “What were you supposed to record?”
I scratch the back of my neck. “Did you block the band on all social media?”
She nods.
Rubbing my hands over my face, I curse. “Um, we—well, I guess I —sort of went viral for a song we haven’t recorded yet, and now Brian wants to drop the single as soon as possible. I’m delaying it a few weeks by being here, and . . . he wasn’t happy with me. ”
“You chose me over the band?” Her voice is so small when she asks that I almost don’t hear her.
“I’d choose you over everything.”
She looks at me more carefully, and she looks like she might be on the verge of crying again. I want to close the space between us, but the way she’s looking at me has me stuck where I am. “Jackson, you don’t choose anything over the band.”
“Except you.”
A tear slips from her eye, and she quickly wipes it away. “Can I listen to the song?”
My eyebrows cinch. “What song?”
“The one that went viral. The one you’re supposed to be recording right now.”
My heart pounds in my chest. I was hoping she had already heard it. I mean over four million people have by now. It would have been nice if she were one of them. Reaching for my phone, I try to shake my nerves as I pull up the video Mya sent me weeks ago. I click on the link before sliding my phone over to Margot and bracing myself for the worst.
The song is basically a love song to a girl who has already broken my heart, and there’s no mistake it’s about her. All the lines I whispered against her naked body in New York are in this song, and she knows those were for her.
After the intro, my voice starts to play, and I hate listening back to it. I don’t think my voice necessarily sounds good or bad, but it sounds like my voice, and that alone makes it weird. I was hoping Dave would be the one to do vocals. It would have been an easy way to separate myself from it, but after it went viral, that wasn’t an option.
I watch her listen to it until I can’t anymore. Resting my elbows on the counter, I stare at my clasped hands in front of me because it feels like a safer option. She started with a soft smile when she heard the melody, but it slowly fell the longer my words washed over her. There’s nothing bad in the song. I wouldn’t write anything bad about Margot, but it’s a balance of love and heartache.
When it ends, I don’t look at her right away. I can’t. Writing the song was one of the easiest things I’ve ever done. Singing it in front of the band? No problem. I don’t even mind singing it in front of a crowd of people. But sitting here with Margot and listening to it leaves me feeling raw.
“Jackson,” she says softly, and I force myself to lift my gaze.
There are tears in her eyes again. I hate seeing her cry. Maybe I shouldn’t have shown her the song.
“Jackson,” she says again with a shake of her head. “That song is incredible.”
Something in my ribcage relaxes, and I feel like I can finally take a breath. “Thanks.”
“No,” she shakes her head. “It’s incredible. The way it sounds upbeat, but the lyrics gut you. It’s the type of song people will want to sing in the car, but . . . it’s heartbreaking.” Her eyes lock on mine on the last word like she’s finally piecing it all together.
For once, I’m the one who doesn’t know what to say, so I just look at her. I just wait for whatever conclusion she’ll inevitably come to. She knows I want her to come with me. She knows I love her. She knows I wrote that song about her. She has all the information, and now it’s up to her to decide what she wants to do with it.