Chapter 3
three
. . .
Becky
“Hey, what’s going on with you?” Cindy asks as we walk through the parking lot after their shift.
“Nothing. I’m just beat. When I get home, I’m taking a bath, having a glass of wine, and reading. I might not get out of my pajamas for two days.” Too bad I have a list of chores, including laundry, to do during my days off. Maybe I need to put in for some vacation. I’ve got plenty stored up.
“Bullshit. You can’t pull that shit with me. What’s really going on?”
Sighing, I look over at Cindy while I dig my keys out of my purse. “It’s nothing, really. Just saw someone I never thought I’d see again.”
“Who? When? You’ve been working for…” Cindy looks at her watch, “…thirteen hours and fifteen minutes.”
“Exactly. If I didn’t know better, I’d say I was hallucinating.”
“C’mon, Becky, just say it. It can’t be that bad.”
If she only knew. I never told anyone about my background, not even my work BFF. Why would I? I don't want anyone to know how horribly I treated someone I loved.
“Fine. I can’t believe I’m even admitting this. I know Jason Royce. Or I should say I know him as Jason Richmond—that’s who he was in high school when we dated.” I push the unlock button on my key fob and wait for the explosion.
“What the hell, woman. You dated the most famous country music star of our time and never said a word?”
“In my defense, I didn’t know. After high school left our small town to go to college and I never looked back. I hated it there. It made me a horrible person. I broke his heart, and mine.”
“Shit. That’s so sad.”
Nodding, I blink back the tears that try to form. I cried so much over the years, but I’m done. He obviously is doing great and probably never thought about me after that day.
“How did you not know? Didn’t you hear any of his songs on the radio?”
“Because I don’t keep in touch with anyone from back home. How would I know it’s him or that he changed his name? I don’t listen to music in the car, you know this. There’s a strict no music rule except the stuff they play in elevators.”
Cindy knows me too well. I know she’s going to see right through me.
It takes only a second for her to put it all together.
She’s one hundred percent right. I can’t bear to listen after everything.
Every song reminds me of how we used to sit outside and he’d play for me.
Sometimes songs from the radio, sometimes songs he wrote for me.
“Because of him?”
I nod. “Yup.”
“Wow. I… I don’t even know what to say.” Cindy pulls me close for a hug. “No wonder you’re acting strangely.” After stepping back, she continues, “I bet that was a shock, huh?”
“You have no idea. I don’t know how I didn’t pass out. Then Mrs. Lee kept going on and on about how everyone loves him. Plus, he’s hotter than hell now. He grew up good.”
Cindy snickers. “Hell yes, he did. I mean, I don’t know what he looked like before. But damn, that man is sex on a stick. I would like him like a lollipop.”
When I give her a sideways look, she laughs.
“Okay, besties rule, no touching the ex. I get it, though. Are you going to go see him?”
“No, I’m not. What would I do? Drive to Orlando and hang out like a groupie hoping he remembers me?”
“Why not?”
“Really? What are the odds that first he’d see me or recognize me. He’s not the only one who’s changed since high school. Then he’d have to want to talk to me. I don’t see that happening.”
Cindy gives me a considering look. “Okay. I guess I understand. But if you had the chance to talk to him, would you?”
“Honestly? I don’t know. I’d love the chance to apologize, to explain, but it’s been ten years. Does it even matter now? He’s obviously not crying in his beer over me.”
“No, maybe not. But what about what you need? In all the time I know you, you’ve never gone on a date.
You work, volunteer at the veteran’s clinic, and read.
Don’t you think it’s time for a little closure?
You’re an amazing woman. Caring, compassionate, a wonderful supportive friend, and nurse.
Everyone deserves one of those happily-ever-after’s you’re always reading about. ”
“You’re a wonderful friend, Cindy. I appreciate you. But I promise, I’m good. Perfect in fact. Except for being exhausted. Now, go home, both of us need downtime. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Are you sure? You need me, even if you just want to cry, call me. I’ll be over with a box of wine and a few half gallons of ice cream. We can eat and drink until we pass out.”
Laughing, we hug, and I let her love and support soak in before stepping away and brushing the tears from my eyes.
“Be safe going home.”
She gives the thumbs up, then slides into her front seat.
Getting into my car, I contemplate Cindy’s words.
Do I want to see Jason? For years, I dreamed of seeing him and trying to explain.
But what’s the point now? I haven’t wanted to remember anything about that time, and while her offer is tempting, I’m not ready.
My before—my childhood in Fernwood, the one I despise—isn’t something I want to rehash with anyone, especially my bestie.
What if she hates me after she learns the truth about me?
Nope, not today. Maybe not ever. These days, it’s all about being a better person. Maybe one day I’ll be someone who deserves to find love again.
A plate with blue cheese, crackers, and sliced pears is on the table next to my oversized comfy chair, with one of my fuzzy blankets on the ottoman in case I get cold.
With a bottle of pinot noir open and breathing, my wine glass waits.
I put my e-reader on the arm of the chair.
After my bath, I dressed in my favorite loungewear. Let the perfect night begin.
As I drop into the chair and my doorbell rings.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I’m tempted to ignore it. Cindy hasn’t texted. She always does if she’s coming over. I don’t have any other friends who would just show up. Sighing when it rings again, I push myself out of my chair and pad to the front door.
“What the hell?” I see Cindy when I look through the peephole in the door.
Pulling it open, I’m worried something happened when I notice her outfit.
Her hair’s curled. She’s wearing cowboy boots, tight jeans, and a sparkly T-shirt.
“What’s going on? Why are you all dressed up? You’re even wearing makeup.”
“Because I’m dragging your sad ass out of the house.”
“No way. I’m going sit my happy ass in my favorite chair and be a total slug until I fall asleep.”
Cindy just smiles and holds up an email. I squint trying to read the small text.
“What does it say?” I ask as I back up and she comes into my condo.
“You’re not going to believe this. While I was driving home they ran a contest for two tickets to tonight’s Jason Royce concert.”
I can already figure out the rest. One of Cindy’s favorite things is playing the radio contests. She’s even won a bunch of them.
“You texted while driving?” It’s the first thing that pops out of my mouth. She’s bad about that too.
“Never mind that. I won the tickets. We need to go now.”
“Nope. Not going. Call Maggie, I bet she’s free tonight.”
“Are you kidding me right now, woman? Maybe I didn’t make myself clear. We have third row tickets to the concert and backstage passes afterwards. You’ll get to see him, talk to him. Get your closure.”
“You’re insane. I’m not going to talk to him at a concert. Or backstage with all of his fan girls hanging all over him.”
“How do you know it’ll be that way?”
Shit. Busted. “I might have looked him up online while I was soaking in the tub. There are tons of videos of him and so many women. He has a different one every time he goes out.”
“Exactly.”
“Wait, what do you mean exactly? That’s horrible. He’s turned into a total player.”
“No, you’re missing the point.” Cindy sighs and shakes her head.
“It’s a different woman every time. If he were actually dating any of them, you’d see them more than once.
I bet are just women his manager picks for him to be seen with.
Don’t you read the tabloids? Wait, never mind. I know you don’t. But trust me.”
I don’t know what to say. My heart is beating so hard in my chest I’m sure Cindy can hear it.
Sweat prickles under my hair, and I have goosebumps all at the same time.
It’s a risk to see him. He could have me thrown out.
It would be totally humiliating. Or maybe he’d listen to me.
My stomach ties itself in knots, and my vision dims. Fuck, I’m having a panic attack.
“Easy, Becky. Breathe. Look at me. It’ll be okay, I promise. I’ll be with you the whole time. Breathe with me, in, out, in, out…”
As I follow her breathing, my vision clears. Finally, I take a deep breath.
“Better?”
“Yeah. Wow, that’s never happened before.”
“This is why you need to do this. You need to either make up or walk away and finally let it go.”
She’s probably right, but that doesn’t mean I can do this. “I don’t know. Yes, you’re not wrong, but I don’t know if I can do this.”
“You won’t be alone. I’ll be with you the whole time, unless you tell me to give you space. It could happen. Maybe he’s dying to see you again. Did you take the time to listen to any of his music while you were stalking him?”
Yup, I couldn’t resist listening to some of his songs, and wow.
He’d been talented at eighteen, but now he was amazing.
Almost all of his songs are about heartbreak.
They even called him the King of Breakup Songs.
What if that was because of me? Maybe he should thank me.
Yeah, right? Fuck. I’d laugh right now if I weren’t still panicking.
“Get out of your head and go get dressed. Wear something sexy.”
I give her the side-eye. “Are you kidding me? I don’t own anything sexy, and you know it.”
“You’re impossible. Do I have to do everything?
” Cindy grabs my arm and practically drags me to my bedroom, then throws open the closet and rifles through the clothing hanging in there.
“Oh hell yes, this is perfect,” she says triumphantly.
“You’re wearing this.” She’s holding a pair of dark blue jeans and a button-down black silk shirt with silver sequin accents.
I bought it for a dinner party years ago. It probably doesn’t even fit. Even as I’m shaking my head, she tosses them on the bed and comes back out with my cowboy boots. I didn’t realize I still had them. Shit. Fuck. Damn.
“Get dressed. We’re leaving in ten minutes whether you’re ready or not. I’ve got to pick up our tickets and the passes as the box office.”
I’m probably making the second-biggest mistake of my life. When Cindy gets like this, she won’t take no for an answer. Dammit. I’m doing this.
The jeans fit, but they’re skintight, and I hope I can breathe when I sit down. The shirt fits too. I surprise myself when I look in the mirror. I look hot.
It’s weird to see my long hair down. Usually, I wear it up in a messy bun or a ponytail, but wearing it down makes me feel sexy.
My brown eyes sparkle with excitement, or maybe it’s dread.
I’m pale, and I have dark circles under my eyes, but that’s nothing a little concealer and blush won’t fix.
I have a lot more curves than I did at eighteen.
But I’m not planning on hitting on him. Closure—that’s the goal, like Cindy said.
After adding some blush, mascara, and lip gloss, she drags me out the door. Probably a good thing, if she gave me more time, back out. Now I need to figure out what I’m going to say to Jason if I have a chance.