Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
“This baby is impossible to please.” Grant patted the back of a sobbing plastic newborn as cameras circled around us.
“I think it’s still upset about you dropping it straight on its head.”
“Um, it’s a her. Excuse you. Don’t disrespect Tiarra.”
I snorted, despite the migraine forming from the constant crying sounds coming from the fake infant. “That’s the name you’re sticking with?”
“Yes. It’s giving princess.”
A laugh bubbled to the surface, one I was grateful for. My stress had been at an all-time high through these so-called lifestyle dates I’d been roped into filming the past few days.
Isaac and I had done fake couple’s counseling, which mostly consisted of us sitting there awkwardly while the (I assume) unlicensed therapist asked us a million hypothetical questions and pretended to scold us for not being on the same page.
I didn’t even know Isaac’s last name, let alone where he saw his life heading in the future.
Christian and I had gone fake house-hunting on what I originally thought would be the most fun of the dates.
Instead, I learned that he must be the pickiest man alive.
He wouldn’t stop talking about how perfect his home was, how none of the finishes we saw were up to his standards.
He couldn’t take a step back and recognize that this wasn’t real and just have fun with it.
Then came engagement ring shopping with Austin, something that sounded nice in theory. What girl didn’t love staring at sparkly jewelry all day? I certainly did. But my skin crawled the moment he picked up a ring and slid it onto my finger.
Also, as soon as I had walked into the jewelry store and saw all of the rings staring back at me, Brady’s words had replayed loudly in my ears.
An engagement. A real one. With Tripp.
He’d brought it up a few times since the initial pitch, treating it more like a business decision than an act of love. All I wanted was to pretend like it wasn’t happening, but the pressure had started to bear down on me.
“Will you just take this?” Grant asked, shoving the baby at me and pulling me back into the moment.
“No way. What about equal partnership?” I said. “You’re the dad.”
“I’ll be your daddy.” He winked at me, and I burst out laughing, shoving him away from me.
Tomorrow was the dreaded “wedding” with Tripp.
It felt a bit like torture to don a dress and pretend to walk down the aisle like that.
Wouldn’t it be bad karma? I’d dreamed of my real wedding since I was a little girl: a puffy white dress that made me feel like a princess, a guy at the end of the aisle, a room full of people around us but we wouldn’t be able to take our eyes off each other.
Now I was making light of it, turning a wedding into a spectacle for TV and views. I hoped the universe would forgive me and there would be no long-term cosmic punishment.
Danny’s face flashed through my mind just then. Torturing me. Maybe the fact that I’d likely be hung up on him forever was punishment enough for this lifetime.
A wedding no longer seemed like it was in the cards for me. I couldn’t picture it, even in a fantasy. Did that make me jaded? I always thought I’d be the forever-optimistic type, but this past year had really beaten that out of me.
Grant looked at me over the sobbing baby. He must have seen something in my forlorn expression, because his brow furrowed. He opened his mouth to say something, glanced at the cameras, and then stopped himself. Brady had already given us a hard time about looking too scripted.
“You’re going to be a great mother,” Grant said instead.
The shock of such a sweet statement coming out of his mouth nearly sent me straight to tears.
“Thanks,” I said, barely keeping it together.
“Do you want kids?” he asked.
We’d never talked about something so deep before, like futures and families.
“Sure,” I said. “I used to dream about taking them to different music classes until they landed on whatever instrument they wanted to play.” It had been a while since any of those dreams had graced my mind.
“What about you?” I asked.
Grand looked taken aback, like he hadn’t expected me to swing the conversation back to him. “Oh, uh. I don’t know. Never really thought too much about it.”
“I could see you being a dad,” I admitted.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. I mean, you’ve got this whole kid-at-heart thing going on.”
“I think some would call that immaturity.”
I smiled. “Well, I could see you being good with kids.”
“I love my nieces,” he said. “My older sister has two girls. I try to spend as much time with them as possible, but it’s been hard lately. Lots of filming.” He looked a little sad.
“That’s sweet, Grant. I didn’t know you were so close with your family.”
“I should get back to see them more,” he said, eyes far off, his expression pensive.
“And cut, we got plenty!” Brady yelled.
I sighed. And there it was. The stark reminder we were being recorded and none of this was normal. I gave Grant a half smile.
“Seriously, are you doing okay?” he whispered, pulling his mic off before Brady would come and tow him away.
“I guess. Just waiting for it to be over, if I’m honest. I don’t think it’s possible to actually get to know someone under these circumstances.”
“Not too much longer and you’re home free.”
Unless I have a very public engagement to worry about.
I didn’t say that out loud. I was constantly conscious that everything I said could be recorded, and the last thing I wanted to be was some scandal.
Trace Davis gets engaged—and here is secret footage of her calling it a sham!
I wouldn’t put it above Brady to sell that story. I couldn’t trust him further than I could throw him, and I couldn’t even lift the guy.
Emma pulled me away from the cameras, and I let her lead me back to the guesthouse. My little sanctuary, as I’d come to think of it. It was the only place I’d been able to find peace since arriving here.
As soon as I opened the door, I heard a loud, “Tracy!”
Despite the humid and hot evening, ice ran through my veins. “Mom?”
She stood in the kitchen, wearing a skirt shorter than I would attempt to pull off and a pink tank top. A small duffel bag lay by her platform flip-flops.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, shooting Emma a wide-eyed look that I hoped conveyed the betrayal I felt. She winced.
“What? You thought you were getting married without me here?”
I rolled my eyes. “You aren’t allowed to be here.” I looked to Emma again for help, but her eyes were already sending me an apology.
“Brady invited her for twenty-four hours, so she can be in some of the shots tomorrow. Plus, I think he wanted you to be able to talk to someone about possibilities for the ending of the show.” She whispered the last part.
I knew exactly what that meant. He wanted someone here to pressure me into getting engaged at the end of all this. And lucky for him, no one could pressure me like my mother.
“Please no,” I whispered, squeezing my eyes shut.
“It’s just for tonight and tomorrow,” Emma said, squeezing my arm. Little did she know how much damage my mother could do in that amount of time.
“I’ll let you two get settled,” she said, backing away from us and shooting me one last sympathetic glance.
“How are you?” my mother cooed, walking over to place her hands on my shoulders and usher me inside from where I’d been standing frozen in the entryway. “It’s been miserable not being able to talk to you.”
“Really? I feel like the time has flown by,” I muttered.
“We hardly go that long without speaking. How is everything? Brady filled me in that it might be getting serious with one of the guys. Trent? Trey?”
“Tripp,” I corrected. “But I’d hardly call it serious. We barely know each other.”
My mother waved away my perfectly valid concern. “Please, I knew I was going to marry your father after one date.”
“You’re divorced,” I said.
“So? Not all marriages have to last.”
Yep. Brady had definitely gotten to her.
I breezed past my mom, walking straight to the back window of the small cottage and slumping into the chair there, the one that looked out onto the lemon trees lining the fence behind the house. For the millionth time, I wished I could see out to the water.
“You know this is just a fake wedding tomorrow, right? I’m not actually getting married.” I watched as she pulled open every cabinet, tsking when she found an open bag of chips and tossing it straight into the trash.
“Of course I know that. But Brady said there’s talk of Tripp proposing at the end of the show.”
I groaned. This entire thing was preposterous. “Only if I agree to it. And I’m not putting Tripp or myself through some fake relationship just for publicity.”
She folded her arms across her chest. “It doesn’t have to be fake. Get the ring and keep getting to know him.”
“No.”
She started opening every cabinet in the island, probably searching for wine. “Honey, you’re turning thirty in a few months.”
I frowned, dipping my chin to stare back at her. “Thirty isn’t the death sentence you think it is, Mom.”
“Well, there’s also your career to think about. A public relationship like this might be what it takes to get your label to finally stop dragging their feet and sign your next five albums.”
“Five!?” I spat out, bursting to my feet. “What happened to signing two?”
My mother shrugged. “Well five is better than two. And if we give them a deal since your tour underperformed, we’ll get a huge advance.
This way we can monopolize on the buzz this show will give you, collect early, and it won’t matter how the next few albums do.
I’m already in talks with the label. Don’t worry about it. ”
Five albums…
Five albums!?
That would take years. Years of me writing whatever songs they wanted and having no autonomy. Years of never being enough.
“I don’t know if I want that,” I said.
She rolled her eyes. “Very funny. You don’t pass up a five-album deal, Tracy. It’s unheard of. This was your dream. I told you it was pointless, but you insisted. You can’t back out now.”
I bit my tongue. This wasn’t my dream. This was some version of capitalism that made me want to run away as fast as I could and bury my head in the sand.
“I’m not getting engaged just for publicity for the label.”
“It’s for us, you idiot!” My mother’s voice rose ten decibels, and I glanced at the closed front door, slightly worried someone on the crew might hear her. Suddenly I was a little girl again, small, and embarrassed that my mom was yelling at me.
Her face twisted into one of disgust. “How can you be so stupid? I’m sorry your life is so hard.
Get engaged to a handsome man you like, make a bunch of money recording music—boo freaking hoo.
” She let out a frustrated sigh. “God, I shouldn’t be surprised.
You were always such a selfish kid, only thinking about yourself, constantly changing your mind.
This is exactly the kind of move you’d pull. ”
My blood simmered, a hot flush rising to my face. I sucked in a breath to remain calm. I couldn’t lose it on her. Not here. Not with so many people willing to sell this news story.
“I’m going to get ready for bed,” I announced, before spitting out, “After all, I am getting married tomorrow.”
“Sarcasm is an ugly look on you,” she called after me as I climbed the stairs to the loft.
“The couch pulls out into a bed,” I said from the top of the stairs.
“Don’t be ridiculous, I’ll just sleep with you.”
She continued chatting away even as I tried to tune her out. I washed my face and slipped into pajamas. It was only nine o’clock, but I couldn’t stay awake any longer. The only thing I had to entertain myself here were books and now my mother. I’d rather be unconscious than talk to her.
In bed, I shifted so that I faced the wall. I could hear my mother banging around in the bathroom before going back downstairs to the kitchen. Thankfully, she’d finally given up on lecturing me.
I squeezed my eyes shut, willing the tears to stay back. She had a way of making me feel so unsure of myself. I hated that I allowed her to push me around like this.
Danny would be embarrassed to see me now.
But he didn’t want to see me now. He didn’t want to see me ever again. He’d made sure of that. Like I’d been my entire life, I was in this alone.