Chapter 20 #3
“Grammercy and I are really into Feng Shui right now,” Elly confesses a little shyly.
Makena gives an exaggerated roll of her eyes, and Elly slaps her lightly on the thigh.
“Stop. I know it sounds silly, but it makes our home feel so much homier and relaxed. I swear, Mimi is sleeping so much better since we Shui-ed her room.”
“I’m just messing with you,” Makena says.
“I can’t say anything, Parker and I are already stalking fruit trees at the nursery and plotting our spring planting.
We’re borderline obsessed with our garden at this point.
” She takes a sip of her drink before adding in a carefully neutral tone, “Though we won’t be planting zucchini next year.
For obvious reasons. Just in case any sexual deviants at the table were wondering. ”
Charlotte exhales a breath and lifts her hands, making Sierra and me both jerk surprised glances her way. “I have apologized literally a hundred times. Will I never live this down?”
Makena smirks. “Never. You will be the Woman with Deviant Zucchini Tendencies from now until the end of time.”
“What did she do with the zucchini?” Sierra demands, clearly thirsty for the gossip.
Charlotte shakes her head, pointing a warning finger at the rest of the table. “No one say a word. This story doesn’t spread any further than it has already.” She sniffs as she recrosses her legs. “Besides, Nix’s sister is here. It would be inappropriate to talk about his sex life.”
My eyes fly wide. “Nix was in on the zucchini?”
Makena and Elly giggle as Charlotte flushes an even brighter shade of pink.
“I plead the fifth,” she says, as Mack adds, “It’s not a big deal, really.
They were both consenting adults. We just like to mess with Charlotte.
She’s usually so by-the-book, we get excited when she does something worth teasing her about. ”
“Don’t worry, Char,” I assure her. “Sierra and I will keep your secret. What we know of it anyway.”
Sierra nods enthusiastically. “We totally will. And please don’t tell Torrance that I said he wasn’t capable of anything else but hockey. We do have good talks sometimes. And he’s the sweetest guy I’ve dated. I don’t want to hurt his feelings.”
We all promise not to say a word, and it feels…fine.
Sierra clearly isn’t afraid Torrance will yell at her or be angry that she said something about him behind his back. She simply doesn’t want to hurt his feelings.
I can’t help imagining the aneurysm Kai would have had if he thought I’d said a single less-than-positive word behind his back while we were a couple…
The thought actually makes me shiver.
With relief.
Kai’s been radio silent since my publicist reached out on my behalf, honoring her request that he give me space until I decide I’m ready to reach out.
If I decide I’m ready…
Right now, I’m enjoying coming back to life way too much to care about arranging a time to pick up my things at our place in Atlanta. Let him keep it all.
Or burn it.
I’m ready to rise from the ashes, to shed my old life like a snakeskin, never to be pulled on again.
And Charlotte and I are going shopping on Tuesday afternoon for new clothes.
I’ve decided I want to try a few long, flowy hippie dresses with boots on for size…
Apparently, I also want to try drunk texting on for size.
As we’re wandering the French Quarter after brunch, buzzed on mimosas and feeling no pain, I come across an old Linda Ronstadt album in a vintage record store.
The record makes me think of karaoke, which makes me think of Blue, which makes me think of how electric it was to sing with him, even on that tiny stage through tinny speakers.
The connection was undeniable.
Intense.
Almost…sexual.
I pushed the feeling away at the time—I’ve always known dating anyone in Baylor’s world would be a bad idea—but now…
Well, I still know it would be a bad idea, but it also seems like a bad idea to ignore the first tingly feelings I’ve had for anyone but my sociopathic ex.
Call me crazy, but leaning in to vibing with a kind, grounded man, who also happens to look incredible in jeans, doesn’t seem like the worst step a girl could take on her healing journey.
Before I can think about it too much, I pull up the number Blue gave me, just in case I needed any introductions to some of his music scene friends in the area—Found an album for your collection!
Hope your trip is going well so far. Keep an eye on my brother, and let’s karaoke again sometime. It was so much fun.
I hit send, and my heart immediately starts pounding, a phenomenon I don’t fully understand until I realize that I just asked a guy out for the first time. And no, it wasn’t super forward, and I can easily pretend it was just a friendly invitation if he makes it clear he isn’t into more, but…
But I did it! And I didn’t think twice.
Maybe I’m not as broken as I thought.
Or maybe it’s the mimosa buzz still making my head floaty.
Either way, I feel good about reaching out.
I feel even better when Blue texts back a few minutes later—What about next Sunday around 4?
I know a place in Bywater. They have karaoke from 2-6 p.m. and an open mic after.
Some of the local indie artists try out new material there.
Could be a good way for you to find a New Orleans musical community.
Grinning, I reply—That sounds amazing! Yes, I’m totally in.
He sends back a thumbs up emoji, and—I’ll send you more details soon. Also, I was glad to hear you’d cancelled the rest of the tour. Sounds like it was the safest choice considering your ex’s history. I hope that isn’t overstepping.
No, not at all. I’m glad, too. See you next Sunday. I add a smiley face and hit send, but as I slide my cell back in my purse, my real-life smile is gone.
I tell myself it’s normal that I can’t get through a conversation these days without Kai popping up in the middle of it.
The people who know why I’m in New Orleans know it’s because I’m in the middle of an intense breakup.
Like it or not, Kai’s presence looms pretty large right at the moment.
And now that we’ve announced the hiatus, it’s likely going to get worse.
I’m fully aware that the speculation that Kai and I are no longer an item won’t be far behind the thoughts and prayers…
But Laurel and I have prepared for that. She already has a “it’s over, but please respect our privacy” statement locked, loaded, and ready to deploy when needed. When the time comes to face the rumor mill and online speculation, I’ll get through it.
It won’t be easy or pleasant, but I’ve survived worse.
I just have to hold the line, lean on the people who love me, and eventually this storm will pass. There will come a day when I decide how often my ex’s name is mentioned in conversation.
And it won’t be much, especially at first.
I’m actually getting pretty good at pretending my life started the second I woke up at my brother’s apartment last week…
I barely think of Kai or the band the rest of the day. It helps that when Charlotte and I get back to her place, I deliberately steer clear of the internet. My laptop stays in the guest room, and my phone on “dummy” mode while we prep dinner and settle in to watch Nix’s game.
It’s a blowout, and my brother is a star, as usual.
Charlotte and I toast his success with a glass of sweet tea, taking a break to change into pajamas before settling back on the couch to zone out to a reality show about Spain that has me dying to book a flight.
The band played two shows in Madrid during our last tour, but there wasn’t time to explore the rest of the country before we had to head for Paris.
Now, however…
Well, I can work on music for my solo album while on holiday in a charming, cobblestone city famous for its sheep cheese and apple cider. And maybe I will.
Visions of wandering stunning foreign lands where no one knows my name dancing in my head, I drift off feeling more peaceful than I have in a long time.
Only to wake up to an insistent buzzing sound on Monday morning…
I blink bleary eyes, squinting at the phone on the bedside table. I have my “silent mode” set to automatically turn off at seven a.m., but I rarely get a text before nine or ten. Music people sleep late, and my publicist in L.A. is two hours behind New Orleans.
But it looks like Laurel is up early today.
Very early…
The sight of a text from my publicist, sent at 5:24 a.m. her time, is enough to send my stomach dropping through the mattress.
Something’s happened. Something bad.
I shoot up in bed, hunching over my screen as I scroll through a dozen missed calls and three times as many text messages.
And the email alerts…
Jesus…
There are so many mentions and tags, it instantly feels like I’m drowning.
I’m scrolling back to Laurel’s text with shaking hands when I see Kai’s face on my home screen. He’s in the news section, next to a headline reading—Rock Star says “Fiancée May Have Been Abducted.”
Eyes flaring wide, I click on the link.
The article loads quickly, revealing a larger photo of Kai outside what looks like a police station, his expression haggard. The dark circles under his eyes are even deeper than normal, and the caption beneath the image reads—Kai Morrison speaks to the press about missing fiancée Beatrice Nix.
A strangled sound leaps from my throat.
We weren’t engaged!
There was a time I desperately wanted to be, but Kai never asked.
He never fucking asked. But that clearly isn’t stopping him from playing the “fiancée” card to make whatever story he’s telling sound better.
I scan the article, lines leaping out to spike my blood pressure even higher.
…Morrison claims abusive brother has been an issue for years…
…sudden tour cancellation and suspicious illness viewed as evidence of coercion...
…NHL player known for violent on-ice behavior…
There’s a video embedded in the article. I press play, and Kai’s face twitches into motion on my screen. My mouth fills with an acidic taste as he blinks tear-filled eyes.
“I couldn’t stay silent anymore. I need Beatrice to know she’s not alone,” he says, his voice breaking in the middle of my name. “I love you, Bea. I’m looking for you, and I won’t stop until I know you’re safe. The truth deserves to come out. And you deserve to be free.”
Free?! Is he fucking kidding me?
God, the balls on this man, this monster.
He is a monster.
One who has decided he isn’t going to let me get away, I guess, not without tearing another pound of flesh from my bones first. He’s not stupid.
He knows he doesn’t have to prove anything, not really.
This public scene he’s making will be enough to damage me, my family, and my future in the industry.
I stare at the screen, rage filling me in a way it never has before. It burns in my belly, clutches at my throat, making my teeth itch to bite and tear.
I don’t know why he thinks he can get away with this, but I hate him for it.
I hate him, I suddenly realize.
I really do.
The tiny whisper of regret, the hint of nostalgia for who we once were together that still lingered in my heart, evaporates in the white-hot rage filling my chest.
My phone buzzes again.
Another notification. Another headline.
The story is spreading like a virus, infecting everything it touches, proving just how stupid I was to think I could walk away from a man like Kai without more scars than I have already.
He’s going to make me pay for leaving him.
Me, and all the innocent people who stepped up to help me…