Chapter 40
Chapter Forty
Darcy looked up at the old, but impeccably well-maintained Merriweather’s Music sign on the storefront.
In many ways, where it had all begun. Where she’d taken her passion and her ear for music and taken everything she’d managed to teach herself, and leveled up. Where she’d been taught how to better herself and respect their craft.
Juliet stood next to her, her hands on her hips.
“You don’t have to talk to Blythe and Emerson just yet, if you don’t want to,” Juliet informed her, sliding her sunglasses down the bridge of her nose to look into Darcy’s eyes. “It’s only been a few days.”
“I know,” she acknowledged. Because she did know. She didn’t have to do anything.
But… she’d never gone for days without talking to Blythe and Emerson, and it was starting to make her feel weirder and more out of sorts than the fact that they were leaving We, The Romantics and hadn’t told her about it for weeks.
Okay, it still stung, but –
Darcy turned back to look at the glass doors of the store. No, she hadn’t totally figured everything out, but what she had come to the conclusion of was, “I can’t really blame them for not having the same dreams I have.”
“Ummmm yes, you can,” Juliet drawled back. “I can. I’ll do it for you.”
She laughed, and she wondered if her eyes were actually in the shape of a heart when she looked at Juliet once more. “I love you.”
“I love you, too, Thief. Now, I’m going to wander around downtown Pineford – really funny to call something downtown when it’s one street, but I guess that’s part of the charm? – while you go and hug it out. However, if you want me to come in and be the bad guy, I’d be happy to.”
In fact, Juliet sounded like she would love to let loose and be the bad guy on Darcy’s behalf.
Darcy shook her head. “I’ll be fine.”
Even if she still had that sting of betrayal, the reality was right in front of her face: if she had to work so hard to keep everything together, how could there have been a real future?
Part of her had hoped once they did it all – the album, the tour, the events, the promotion – Blythe and Emerson would… would come around to it in the way Darcy had started to.
But the truth was crystal clear. Even if she’d wanted to believe otherwise, or if she’d wanted to believe things would change.
Juliet turned to give her a small smile, and Darcy wanted to kiss her. They were on the sidewalk, so she didn’t. But Juliet reached out, lacing their fingers together briefly. Connecting them for a few seconds, before she released her.
And with that, Darcy walked in. The bells jingled against the door, alerting Brenda, Emerson’s mother, to her arrival. She looked up, not pausing the conversation she was having on the phone behind the counter as she gave Darcy a smile, nodding her head toward the back of the store.
Darcy returned the smile and walked through the store.
Gently trailing her fingertips over the covers of the songbooks as she went.
The smell of the store, of the fresh wood and the paper and the polish, lighting up the nostalgic parts of her mind as she walked down to the final door of the hallway that had four different practice/lesson rooms.
She dropped her hand to the knob, taking a breath, before she pushed it open. Pausing after a few inches to say, “Can I come in?”
“Darcy! Yes. Obviously. Come in.” Emerson’s response was immediate, her words almost falling over one another.
Darcy shut the door behind her, taking a moment to look around.
They’d recorded Bowling Alley Ballads here.
It was the perfect place. Symbolically, this was where Emerson had given her all of her music lessons, and where they’d fine-tuned so much of their music.
And, of course, logistically, this was where the instruments all lived and it was soundproof.
It had only been a year and a half ago when they’d recorded, but a lifetime seemed to have passed.
She felt that reality wash through her, as she turned to look at where Emerson was sitting on the piano bench.
Her best friend’s eyes were wide, searching. Hesitant. “I, uh, I’ve been texting. And I sent a voice note. But… then I remembered you didn’t have your phone.”
Darcy tangled her fingers in front of her, walking around the piano. Wordlessly, Emerson slid over and Darcy plopped down. Just like how it had been for so many lessons, then for so many brainstorming sessions over the years.
“Yeah. I don’t have it back, yet. You’re the first stop on my reunion tour.” She cracked a grin, feeling a little hesitant, herself.
But she didn’t want to feel that way with Emerson. She, actually, refused to. Not with her best friend.
Emerson didn’t return the smile, though.
Remorse was etched into a deep frown, as she stared at Darcy.
“I… Blythe and I aren’t the same, in this,” she confessed, so quietly.
“And we didn’t try to gang up on you, I promise.
I just, we ended up talking one night after a show.
In New York, actually, when you were with Juliet.
We were both awake, it was late. She said that she was excited to be back home soon, that she was just tired.
And I – I don’t feel that exact way that she does.
Because I love the music, the same way you do, Darcy. ”
Darcy looked around the room. At the recording equipment and the instruments and the sheet music. “I know.”
She’d always known she and Emerson were the same on that front. They always had been.
Emerson’s shoulders sagged slightly, like she was under a huge weight. “It’s just the – the everything else that goes along with it. It was what I wanted, too. To make it.” There was something wistful in her voice, as she, too, looked around the room. “What I thought I wanted, anyway.”
Darcy got that, too. “I know.”
Emerson deflated completely, turning to look at her. “I’m just… not fearless the way you are.”
She snorted, incredulously. “Em, you know I’m not fearless. Come on.”
Emerson had been around to witness her many sleepless nights.
“Yeah, but – that’s what I mean, I guess. I know you get anxious, too, and you – you just still do it.” Emerson’s eyebrows furrowed down at her hands on the keys, as she shook her head. “I wanted to do the same thing. I want to be the same kind of person you are.”
“So, we’re different. But it doesn’t mean you aren’t fearless.” Darcy turned to look at Emerson, needing her to hear Darcy when she said this. “I do have anxiety, but it’s mostly situational. I know that your anxiety is a lot… more.”
Emerson’s anxiety had been a part of her life that she’d been managing the entire time Darcy had known her. Long before the weight of fame and public scrutiny, which had only made it worse. And yet, still, Emerson had done everything she’d needed to do. Showed up to everything.
Maybe that was why Darcy still had the hope that, with enough time and exposure, it would change.
But… she couldn’t fault Emerson for it not changing. For her not wanting to need to keep pushing through, day after day.
Or, in Juliet’s words, she could fault Emerson. But she certainly didn’t want to.
“I know I didn’t really have a great response the other day–”
Emerson cut in, her voice laced with self-recrimination, “We should have told you in a better way. We just didn’t know how.”
“Which is exactly why there was never going to be a better way.” Darcy shrugged, offering a self-deprecating smile. She knew herself; she’d have never responded well to that revelation.
And she believed that was a fair reaction on her part, to being told that everything was about to change in the blink of an eye. Or, what felt to her, like the blink of an eye.
“Maybe…” Emerson trailed off, a hopeful edge working into her voice. “We can still write music together, sometimes? Even while you’re off with Juliet, living the big Hollywood life?”
“Of course we can.” She didn’t have to think twice about it.
She’d never trust anyone’s ear – save for possibly Juliet’s – the way she trusted Emerson’s, and she couldn’t see that changing.
“How did you know Juliet’s here?”
“Darcy, everyone is talking about her showing up at the bowling alley and how cool it was. They can’t believe you’re really, truly good friends with her.” Emerson’s voice was alight with bubbling laughter that she clearly tried to bite back.
Darcy didn’t even bother to hold back her own.
Darcy walked down Blythe’s driveway, her fingers lightly linked with Juliet’s now that they were out at Blythe’s farmhouse and not in the center of Pineford.
Juliet was the first one to break away, this time, as she looked over to the large, detached garage. The door was open, music spilling out. “I’m going to tell Colton I apologize for giving him the brush off a few months ago. I can imagine he took it personally.”
“He did,” she agreed, before she shrugged. “But he doesn’t really hold a grudge.” Still, though, she loved that Juliet wanted to acknowledge it and talk to him about it.
Which was good; Darcy wanted to talk to Blythe by herself. Especially now that she felt marginally better than she had, earlier. Now that she and Emerson had mended things, she felt better.
This time, before Juliet turned to walk away, she glanced around. They were out in the open, but no one was around for acres on Blythe’s farm. Darcy wanted it, wanted Juliet’s kiss, but she held still.
If Juliet wanted to kiss her anywhere in public, she’d happily take it. But Juliet had to be the one to initiate it.
Darcy found at this point, she didn’t care if anyone – if everyone – knew about her sexuality. She didn’t even know what her future was going to be, if she’d be offered another album! But she did know the only things she would be afraid to lose were Juliet, Blythe, Emerson, and her music.