Chapter 62
sixty-two
JAKE
The next hour is nonstop interviews, photos, and glad-handing with everyone who comes into my orbit.
Jason is at my side, while my publicist, Anna, is running both of us.
Like usual. Her short five-foot-four stature and southern belle charm often cause people to underestimate her.
No one makes that mistake twice, which is why she’s an integral member of my team, even if she and Jason are constantly at each other’s throats.
“That’s enough for now. We’ve got to make our way inside,” Anna says sweetly to the sea of photographers lined up on the red carpet at the third after-party of the night. She ushers me inside, glaring at anyone who tries to stop us.
“You need to go shake hands with the record label,” Jason instructs, not looking up from his phone.
“Don’t be surprised if they claim your stunt was their idea.
There’s been a flurry of texts suggesting that’s how they want to play this with the media, especially since country radio is clamoring for the new single. ”
“Okay. Just point me where I need to go,” I respond, handing the award to Anna and quickly checking my phone. It’s been vibrating nonstop with congratulatory messages.
Radio silence from her.
“After you do what Jason wants, I need a picture with the other nominees,” Anna says, her fingers flying across her phone. No one can multitask like her. It’s a goddamn skill she’s perfected. “We want to position you as humble and approachable. Loved by all.”
“Loved by all might be pushing it, Anna,” I scoff. Everyone else in the world can adore me, but it won’t mean anything if she doesn’t.
Fuck.
I need to snap out of this mood and celebrate.
When I’m Chase Elliott, I’m the life of the party. The guy everyone wants to hang out with.
Except tonight, because I’m counting down the minutes until I can crawl into bed. Alone.
I follow Anna around the party like a lost dog. Smiling at everyone I meet. Pretending it’s the best night of my life, that I’m ecstatic to be here. Even alcohol doesn’t dull the ache of putting myself out there and not hearing a peep from her.
The past four months have been absolute hell. It’ll fucking destroy me if she never reaches out or confirms that she doesn’t want a life with me. But at least I’ll know I did everything in my power to try to get the girl of my dreams back.
We’re thirty minutes into this party when Jason mutters something about heading to another as the three of us huddle in a corner. I groan at the thought of keeping this smile on my face for much longer.
“What’s going on with you?” Jason asks, eyeing me like my body has been snatched by aliens. “You’re not yourself.”
“I’m fine,” I reply, hoping he’ll drop whatever interrogation he’s planning.
“Doesn’t seem fine. Is this about her?” He slips his phone in his pocket, giving me his full focus.
Damn it. He’s not going to let this go. He can be a dog with a bone when he’s determined.
It’s a great trait for your manager to have when they’re negotiating for you and running interference.
As long as he’s not using it on me. Then it fucking sucks.
“Drop it,” I warn, glaring at him and hoping he gets the message that this is not up for discussion.
“Does she know about the song?” Anna asks softly, attempting to reduce the tension between Jason and me.
“We’ve done everything we can to quiet the questions on socials about the woman in the video.
It seems to be working. Although I can’t promise no one will find out her identity if they dig into your past.”
“I haven’t heard from her,” I retort, dragging a hand down my face. “Can we be done now? I’m ready to go home.”
Anna and Jason exchange pointed looks, almost like they’re having a telepathic conversation about how to best respond to my unusual request. I rarely ask to leave any event early. When I’m working, I’m locked in, maximizing every opportunity in front of me.
Except for the past few months. I’ve preferred to spend time alone, nursing my broken heart by writing song after song. All of them about her.
“I’ll have your driver meet us in the back,” Anna responds. “We’ll need to regroup in the morning to discuss your schedule for the next few days. I have a ton of interview requests, and I anticipate there will be more.”
I nod, following her and Jason toward the exit that allows guests to leave without being seen by photographers.
“I’ll have studio time booked later this week for you and the band to cut the new song,” Jason says. “The label wants it immediately. I’m frankly surprised they haven’t kicked someone out of the studio tomorrow morning to get you in.”
I don’t reply. Jason knows I’ll do whatever is requested by the label after the stunt I pulled tonight. Thankfully, the fans are loving the song; otherwise, I might be zero for two tonight.
When I climb into the back of the limo alone, it’s quiet as the driver takes me home. It’s been six hours since I poured my heart out on national TV, and not a peep from Kate.
I lean my head back on the seat, contemplating what to do. I could send her a message tonight, or give her a call in the morning. One last attempt. But will it matter?
Silence is an answer.
I’ve sent her countless messages over the past four months and not received a single reply. My calls always go straight to voicemail.
At what point does this make me a stalker? An ex-boyfriend who can’t get the hint to leave her alone.
Fuck.
Maybe things would be different if I’d made a grand gesture months ago.
Or refused to leave Chicago. Made her listen to how I feel. Proved that she was worth fighting for.
I’ll let myself feel the pain of losing her for good for a couple of days. Sulk in the heartache. Then, focus on moving on. I can’t dwell on the past forever. It’s unhealthy.
Maybe we weren’t meant to be, after all.