Chapter 21 #2
As we lie spooning, I once again find myself wishing for seemingly impossible things.
I wish that I could keep this happiness forever.
That I could stay here where I grew up, in this place I love so much.
And more than that, I wish I could stay with this woman who makes me feel like anything might be possible after all.
Like I can be brave enough to control my own future, and I can have the things I want and not have to apologize for wanting them.
“We should go check on dinner,” she says eventually. Kissing my shoulder one more time, she unwinds her arm from around my waist and moves away from me. Slowly, like she’s as reluctant to give up this closeness as I am.
We get dressed and make it downstairs with five minutes to spare on the oven timer.
Once the food is ready, we eat it in the dining room, finishing off the bottle of wine.
Then we bring a blanket out to the porch and sit close together, draping it over our laps.
With her arm wrapped around me and my head tipped onto her shoulder, we watch the sun set behind the trees.
The quiet settles comfortably around us, and for a while, we don’t talk. It feels nice, simply sitting with her like this. But eventually my mind starts drifting back to the conversation with my manager and all the decisions I need to make.
I could talk to her about it. I should talk to her about it. I will. Soon. For now, I push the thoughts away. I just want to bask in this.
I lift my head off her shoulder so I can see her face. “I’m really happy right now,” I tell her, unable to keep all the warm feelings inside.
“Good,” she replies, giving me the softest of smiles. “You deserve to be happy.”
Emboldened by that statement, I say, “You know that you make me really happy, right?”
She stares at me, her eyes a bit wider than they were before, and I worry that I might have said too much. That I crossed some invisible line you’re not supposed to cross with a person you’re only casually fooling around with.
We’re doing more than that, I assure myself.
And then she says, “You make me happy too.” Her arm squeezes tighter around me. “God, Strawberry, I don’t know how I’m going to let you go when the time comes.”
Holy shit.
“Do you mean that?” I ask. “Like, this isn’t just about sex, right?”
“No.” She takes a deep breath before adding, “Honestly, I think it stopped being only sex for me a while ago.”
“Me too,” I admit, twisting my fingers into the blanket. “But I know you said you’re not interested in relationships anymore.”
With a quiet sigh, she reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, grazing her thumb across my cheek before she pulls away. “What I meant by that was I’m not interested in getting my heart broken again.”
I’m not sure if she’s suggesting I have the power to break her heart, but I want to assure her that I won’t. Except I can’t really do that. Not when my entire life feels so up in the air.
I settle for saying, “Believe me, I’d rather not get my heart broken again either. I’ve been there, done that, gotten the Billboard hits to prove it.”
That earns me a small laugh, but then her lips tip down in a frown. “I know you’re not staying here.”
“But what if I wanted to?”
She studies me like I just spoke in a foreign language and she’s mentally trying to translate it. “If you were going to stay... then I guess we’d be able to see where this goes.”
It’s not exactly the gushing declaration of feelings I was hoping for. But I understand why she’s guarded. She’s been through a lot. And plus, it’s not like I’ve offered her any major declarations either.
I think we’re both being cautious with our hearts.
But if we have any chance of making this work, I know I need to lay my cards out. So I tell her everything. The stupid stunt my manager wants me to do, how he expects me to come back now, and how I’m starting to wonder if the prices I pay for my fame are still worth it to me.
With someone else, I might be worried about sounding whiny and ungrateful. Like, Oh, look at the poor, rich country star. But I trust Addison not to judge me. She listens, and I can tell she understands what I’m struggling with.
I explain to her how I’m considering stepping away from my record label if they don’t like my new music. I’ve checked my current contract, and I don’t owe them another album. At this point, it’s just been a given that I’ll keep working with them for my entire career, but I don’t have to.
I’m not sure what I would do if I didn’t record with them again.
I still want to put out music. But there are some options.
I could pitch to a different label. Although any of the major ones would likely also want me to keep making music in the same style.
So I might have better luck with a smaller label.
Or I could figure out how to go totally indie and make an album myself.
“Whatever I end up doing,” I say, “I don’t want to worry about keeping my sexuality a secret. I mean, I don’t feel the need to make some sort of big announcement or anything. But I want to be able to let my music speak for me.”
“Are you still in contact with Skyler James?” Addison asks.
I scrunch up my nose at that. “Not really. We stayed friendly for a while after our PR relationship was over, but I haven’t talked to him in years. Why?”
“Maybe you could ask for his advice about some of this. Since it sounds like he’s gone through very similar things, right?”
“Oh. Yeah. I guess so.”
She shrugs. “It was only a thought. I want to be able to help you, but I don’t know all that much about the music industry. I figured maybe it would help more if you talked to someone who does.”
“That’s a really great idea,” I tell her. “Thank you.” It wouldn’t hurt to try reaching out to Skyler. He’s always been the nicest guy. “But just so you know,”—I lean my weight into Addison a bit more as my gaze holds hers—“you already have helped me. In so many ways.”
“Then I’m glad,” she says, before leaning in to give me a soft kiss.
I want to say more, but I don’t know how. And it’s pretty dark out now. I think I felt a mosquito bite me already. The wine buzz has also worn off and left me feeling sleepy, even though it’s not that late.
A yawn slips out of me, and Addison laughs. “Ready to go inside?”
“Yes. But can we talk more about all this another time?”
“Of course.”
She stands, wadding up the blanket and tucking it under one armpit. Then she holds out her hand to me. I take it, feeling secure and hopeful as she leads me inside.