15. Felicity
felicity
Life is moving so fast lately that it’s been hard to keep up. Mom is getting ready for the school’s Halloween carnival, and decorations, candy, and cardboard cutouts of monsters have taken over the house for the last two weeks.
I sit at the table, carefully drawing what is supposed to look like Frankenstein on some cards for her, and frown at the result. “I don’t think art is my thing.”
Mom laughs from where she is making caramel apples on the stove. “Art is your everything.”
“Not this medium, that’s for sure,” I say, capping the marker and holding the card away from me.
“So what did your manager say?” she asks politely, having given me time to process my feelings before bombarding me.
Yesterday, my mom took me to the doctor to check out the little babe.
I had embarrassedly had to bring NDAs for the whole office to sign, blushing every time my mom pushed for everyone to sign them.
This is what my manager insisted, and while I know she is right, I hate doing it like I’m not a normal human about to pop out a baby.
Thankfully, the office had been kind about it and didn’t bat an eye, mostly boasting over my music and how excited they were that I was home.
I went to high school with a girl named Amy who happened to be the nurse practitioner who worked there, so it was nice to have someone familiar.
“She said I have commitments to fulfill,” I admit, thinking about what she told me. “I’m due for another album next year, and my lawyer is still working on getting me out of the contract, but until then, I have to pretend that I’m fulfilling it.”
Mom frowns over at me. “You don’t want to?”
I shake my head. “I’m not inspired by the bullshit music they want me to put out, Mom. It’s not who I am. I’ve regretted signing the contract since the moment I did it.”
She nods her head in understanding. “So what are you going to do?”
I shrug and say, “She wants me to go back to California.”
“And do you?”
I shake my head. “Not even a little.”
“Hmm.” Mom’s hum does nothing to settle the nerves I’ve been battling for weeks. “What about Zack? What’s going on there?”
I sigh and roll my eyes. “Another lawyer thing. I had to have mine notify him since he’s not answering my calls.”
“That boy, he needs a good walloping,” Mom says, pretending to hit him with the spoon she is using to stir the caramel. I smile at her antics.
“Yeah, something like that.”
Mom looks over at me and asks, “If he wants to get back with you, to start a family and settle down, would you do it?”
I frown, my face probably comically twisted and say, “With Zack ?”
My mom chuckles and nods. “Okay. I thought so.”
It’s not like Zack was a bad guy, per se. He was just vain and a little airheaded, and a lot annoying with his need to be in the spotlight twenty-four-seven.
Not to mention, as far as feelings go, the moment my eyes laid on Jax Cash again, any feelings toward anyone else were like a very faint, hard-to-find memory.
I haven’t spoken to Jax in a couple of weeks, unable to muster up the courage to face him. It’s not like he hasn’t tried. I know that whenever I’ve stopped by my house, he’s been there, talking through everything with Graham and me and trying to get my attention.
It just hurts and feels great all at the same time.
It is confusing. Having his attention on me again feels like it had in high school, like I hung the moon and stars in his world, like I was important to him, and not because I was some famous musician, but because I was Felicity.
I was City Girl to him and nothing more.
But I don’t want to go down that road.
Jax doesn’t know the truth, and I am not ready to come out with it.
Not to mention, I was currently being told to keep it to myself until Zack and I had some sort of agreement.
I was terrified of what that would entail. The thought of having to ship my baby to California every other week or something for shared custody scared the shit out of me.
I’d have to just move back, and I don’t want to do that. But I know Zack would never move to Acton, and having him do so feels like tainting this small piece of my world that I don’t want to taint.
I shake the thoughts from my head, moving on to happier things. Like the fact that my house is a couple of weeks away from move-in ready.
I am bursting at the seams to get into it. As much as I love my parents, and being home with them again was so nice, I am ready to spread my wings again and get my life back.
“Are you excited for this weekend?” Mom asks, setting an apple down on a piece of parchment.
“For this weekend?”
“The festival is going on at the Trevors’ place. Aren’t you going to go?”
Right. The festival. “Actually…” I tap my finger to my lip and smile at her. “I was asked to perform with Juniper again.”
Mom’s eyes light up, and she says, “Are you going to?”
“Maybe a couple of songs. I’m supposed to head over there tonight to chat with her about it.
” I am excited because Juniper is doing what I started out with, singing and playing the music that lit my soul on fire.
I am a country girl at heart, but I love country with a bluegrass sound mixed with almost a blues grit.
It is soul-feeding music. Or at least, it feeds mine.
“Aw, honey. I haven’t seen you sing in so long. That will be nice.” She snaps her fingers. “Oh! I forgot to tell you. There was a box in the attic that Dad got down for you, some mail and things that came for you over the years.”
“Mail? Mom, if it’s older than a year, it’s trash.”
She lifts a hand. “You know your father.”
“How come you didn’t just send it to me?”
She looks at me and raises an eyebrow. “You know that light in the main hallway that’s been burned out since you were in middle school? Consider your mail to be like that light. Your dad will get around to fixing it eventually, just like he’s finally getting around to giving you your mail.”
I laugh and shake my head. “Wow, I feel special. I beat out the light.”
Mom grumbles something like, “You should,” before turning back to her cooking. I let out a contented sigh.
I want more days like this. Where my concerns lie with helping my mom with her school projects, where I can take nice walks alone on Main Street and see the fall décor take over every street corner, where I can go and meet a friend and discuss music.
Where I don’t have to worry that every single person here is out to get me.
I check my watch and get to my feet. “I’ve gotta go, Mom. I’ll be back later.”
“I’ll be here.” She waves me off, and I make my way out the door, breathing in the scent of fresh fall air and deciding a nice walk into town will be the way.