Chapter 42
Chapter forty-two
Rhys
Midnight Kissin’
"Thank goodness things didn’t materialize with that hockey player." Zara says as she plops down on the sofa in the recording studio.
"What do you mean?" I ask her as my mind fills with Duncan.
Actually, no, that makes it seem like I've stopped thinking about him for any significant stretch of time.
Duncan has been, fuck, he is on my mind constantly.
I hear his laugh when passing groups of friends on the sidewalk when I take a walk between recording sessions.
I see his amber brown eyes behind every eyeglass frame.
I smell his bright and woodsy aroma in every mug of coffee or glass of Scotch I bring to my lips.
"My friend Lydia is dealing with the boys on her team getting named to all sorts of lists." Zara laughs as she scrolls.
"What kinds of lists?"
"Well, like this," she turns her phone to me and a gasp slips from my lips. I cover it quickly with a cough. And swallow thickly before fully processing what I’m looking at.
Duncan is smiling rakishly at the camera, his hair falling forward across his forehead, eyes wide and bright behind his glasses, his suit shirt almost scandalously unbuttoned.
My fingers tingle with the phantom memory of the coarse texture of the space over his heart.
And above his photo in title case lettering the words "Hottest Puck Boys Ranked" and my heart stutters like a record scratch.
With sweaty palms, I carefully hand the phone back to Zara. She resumes scrolling and my vision blurs at the edges.
Because I’m suddenly trapped in an alternate reality.
Duncan going back to his one-night-stand habits.
Duncan in bed with someone else.
Duncan realizing he’s absolutely boyfriend material and making some other man the happiest in the world.
Lennox is late, or maybe I’m too early like usual, but I need to cancel. Today is fucked. There’s no way I’ll be able to record anything worth keeping.
Plus it’s New Year’s Eve, who works a full day today?
Part of my coping mechanism has been constant motion. If I’m busy, working, taking care of the horses at home, or traveling to Scotland for Christmas, I won’t be thinking about Duncan.
Except, it hasn’t worked at all and now I feel like every nerve ending I have left is frayed and ready to fire at the slightest touch.
Who will Duncan be kissing at midnight?
Who am I going to kiss at midnight?
Both questions turn to sludge in my stomach.
"I don’t know if I can do that."
Some nights I hate myself for telling the truth. Other nights I feel proud of myself for expressing the depth of my feelings.
Even as my chest aches from missing him, and my body begs for his attention, my head confirms my stance.
Phone sex over the summer was hot, yeah, but I can’t go back to just that. I want, no, I need, all of Duncan or nothing.
I need his levity. I need his energy. I need his body. I need his commitment.
But he wasn’t willing to give it.
Friends-with-benefits worked until it didn’t.
I don’t even remember the moment things shifted for us.
I can’t pinpoint when things went from just sex to actual friends who are having sex to him becoming the only person on the planet I wanted to be with.
But I haven’t been able to look at the sofa in my living room without a crushing sadness hitting my chest.
"Alright," Zara’s voice pulls me back to where I’m sitting in the studio on the sofa. "I have your wardrobe for tonight in the other room. And the guest list is confirmed." Zara lets the last sentence hang in the air.
"Okay." I pause for a moment wondering if I should be interested in the guest list or not.
The Renegades have a game tonight at home and, according to The Stick Handlers Chat I am now a part of with the WAGs, there is a party at Felix’s after. I got swept up in their conversation earlier about the gift I sent to Crosby and Laila, about clothing, about Duncan being sad.
I battled with the word hope more than I care to admit. Flexing the letters into a fist and relaxing it over and over until my forearm burned.
Duncan won’t be at the show tonight, I know that. But Zara’s tone has me on edge.
"Mike Kerr is coming."
The world around me quiets as "Meek Car" rings in my ears. "Why?"
"Well, he is from here, and the movie was set here, so he's finishing up his year in Nashville."
"But why is he coming to my event?"
"It isn't your event." Zara shrugs. "It's the Grand Ole Opry New Year’s Eve event you're headlining this year."
"Well, keep him away from me."
"Hold on, hold on. Imagine the optics." Zara says as she stands and moves between me and the door. When I don't say anything because the only words I can think of are harsh, she continues. "You had your ups and downs last year, but with the new year upon us you two reconciled."
"I'm not getting into another relationship with him."
"I'm not asking that. I'm asking for you to sing Midnight Kissin’ right before midnight and let the cameras make it seem like you two have something going."
"Zar," I start but she rushes to cut me off.
"I know I know. And I wouldn't do it but his team told me he wants to talk to you, he wants to make it right."
"I don't want to forgive him."
"Then don't, but maybe let the guy explain?"
"You're not being a girl’s girl right now." I point a finger at her. "You'd never tell a girlfriend to give her cheating ex a chance to explain himself."
"You're right, you're right. And I know it makes me terrible. But you pay me to see the whole picture and the scorned lover sells tickets but reunited-after-he-hears-your-musical-poetry sells out arenas."
I’m not getting out of this. "Fine."
All the empty spaces inside me hollow out further with the word.
If I can't have the love of the man I want, then I will chase the transactional and fleeting love of thousands of fans night after night knowing it’ll never be enough.
***
Thankfully there wasn't a red carpet at this event. I was able to head in the back door and go straight to my dressing room. A few VIPs have been back to visit but I haven't heard anything from Zara or from Mike.
Maybe he decided not to come?
I chuff a laugh remembering the endless jokes about coming between Duncan and I.
"What's so funny?" The nasally voice sends chills through my body.
"Nothing. Hi Mike."
"Mike? No Cheeky Meeky?" The nickname he gave himself for me to call him sets every nerve on my body on edge.
"No."
"Rhysie," he pleads as he walks into my dressing room. His cologne stings my nostrils. Wrong. It all feels wrong. "C'mon, are you still mad at me?"
"Am I still–am I still mad at you? Are you serious?" I stand and glare into his dead eyes. "You cheated."
"It was a PR relationship." He shifts and crosses his arms as he delivers his excuse.
"We didn't agree to end it!" I move towards him but before I can say anything else Zara appears and knocks on the door frame.
"Time to go." She says as she looks between Mike and me.
"Have one drink with me." Mike pleads as he places a hand on my bicep while I try to pass by.
"No." I shove off his touch.
I grab my hat and head out on stage.
The lights are bright but that's the benefit of being a country star, my hat provides some shade so I can keep my eyes wide open.
Which I vow to do for the rest of the night.
Rest of my life.
"Hello Nashville! Happy New Year!" I call out into the microphone. My voice sounds unfamiliar in my in-ear monitors.
The crowd cheers and hoots and hollers.
Inhale, exhale. Perform.
"We're comin' up on midnight so I have a few songs for us before we count down. Get close to that someone you're gonna kiss and sing along with me."
I strum the opening chords as my band fills in the rest behind me. The lyrics and melodies fall from my lips with ease.
The pain I’ve become accustomed to since coming home to Nashville fades away as I sing about nights by the camp fire and nights by the bon fire and nights by the fireplace, cuddled with the one you love no matter the weather.
One song bleeds into another and before I know it it is time to sing my new song.
The world thinks it was written about Mike Kerr when in truth, it's about Duncan.
"This song is going to be on the upcoming album and it’s called Midnight Kissin'.
I wrote this song while I was in that in-between place of meeting someone and trying to figure out if it was going anywhere.
And as we find ourselves in that same space tonight, between two years, I hope you allow yourself some time for Midnight Kissin'. Here we go."