Rory
Layla’s heartbreaking wails kill me. “Sweetheart, I know those molars bother you. I’m so sorry. Try the teether again.” I put it against her lips, and she tosses it to the ground.
I sigh and keep pacing, hoping Jace comes home soon. I’ve been bouncing Layla on my hip for over an hour. I stare at the cold burgers I ordered for us, hoping he’d join me, but it’s long past lunch. I’m tempted to call Frank, but he didn’t sound thrilled when I rang him this morning.
“Get your umbrellas out this week,” the forecaster announces on the TV. “I hate to tell you this, Dallas, but brace yourself for sweltering heat, high humidity, microbursts of torrential rain, and hail.”
Great.
I move to the large window and stare at the thick, dark clouds looming in the distance. I pat the baby’s back. “Ladybug, I guess we need to look on the bright side. At least we’re in a hotel with air conditioning and not at some swampy fairground.”
She sniffles and leans her head on my shoulder. When she finally knocks out, I put her on the bed and surround her with pillows so she doesn’t roll off. She skipped her afternoon nap and now it’s six. She’s going to be up half the night. I’d better brace myself for more teething issues.
I grab my phone, wanting to look up what I can do to mitigate her pain, when I get a text from Paige.
Paige: Here’s the info for that librarian job. Just in case!
Me: Thank you.
Do I want another librarian job? After the last few months on the road, I feel like a completely different person. Like I’ve gone through a trial by fire.
I still love books and helping people find great reads, but I think I gravitated toward that job because it helped me hide. The library was a quiet place where I didn’t have to talk to anyone except about books, and that felt safe to me while I regrouped after my breakup with Hayden.
I’d probably still enjoy it, though I don’t think I need it now the way I did then.
If I take that position, I obviously can’t go on tour with Jace. And I’m guessing this won’t be his last one. What would that mean for our relationship? Could we handle long distance?
Would I even want to do long distance?
I glance over at Layla, my heart aching at the thought of not being with her every day.
Maybe I don’t need to make this decision now. I’d like to discuss this with Jace and see what he says. We haven’t talked about what we’re going to do at the end of the summer. Would he want to move in together? Assuming he wants to still date. I mean, stay married.
Ugh, is this what people mean when they set their relationship status to “it’s complicated?” I get that now. Because Jace and I are complicated in ways I never thought possible.
As I nibble on my soggy, cold hamburger, I scroll through my phone.
Since we got to the hotel, I’ve been slacking on my social media responsibilities for Jace, and I feel a little guilty, but Layla’s been a handful since yesterday morning.
And before that, I needed time to spiral about the Cherry Smasher’s latest delivery.
And fine, I’ll admit I stayed off because I wasn’t ready to watch all the clips of Jace singing with Marlowe last weekend, but I should rip off the bandage.
The minute I get online, I’m greeted with reel after reel of Jace and Marlowe singing almost nose to nose. It’s painful to watch. They have great chemistry. She honestly looks like she’s two seconds away from scaling his body.
But now, with a little space, I can admit Jace’s intensity on stage isn’t because he wants Marlowe. He’s upset he was cornered into performing with her. That mollifies my irritation a little.
The comments are what you’d expect.
“Omg, they’re soooo hot together!”
“They’re totally fucking!”
“Holy shit, I’m pregnant from watching them.”
“Think they want a third? I volunteer for the throuple!”
It’s pretend, Aurora. They’re playing a part to sell concert tickets. See, I can do this. I’m okay.
But then I see today’s posts from Marlowe’s account. She tagged Jace in all three.
In the first video, she turns the camera on herself and smiles. “Y’all, I have a secret. I can’t share it yet, but it’s juicy.” In the background, Jace is standing with his guitar, talking to his bandmates, unaware that she’s recording.
Why is she at Jace’s rehearsal? The one Cooper told me was strictly for band members and I shouldn’t even think of dropping by?
In the second reel, she walks up to Jace and hooks her arm through his like she’s trying to poach him. “Smile, darlin’. Say hi for the camera.”
I grit my teeth as my husband turns on the charm. “Hey, guys. We’re in Dallas this week working on some top-secret projects. Can’t wait to tell y’all more.”
Are they rehearsing “Red Light” for another show?
But then I get to the third video. Someone else records this one. Jace is playing his guitar and singing into his mic when Marlowe drapes herself over his shoulder and winks at the camera before she sings into her own mic.
So much for getting space because Jace has his own microphone.
Or having a spouse who tells you what the hell is going on.
And just when I think this can’t get any worse, I stumble across a video from last Saturday night after their show.
Where she sits in his fucking lap.
Needless to say, I seethe the rest of the night. I try to nap, but my mind won’t stop playing worst-case scenarios. That Jace will want Marlowe. That he and I will never withstand the pressures of this industry. That we’ll be over long before this tour ends.
Layla wakes up around ten, irritable and hungry. I feed her, clean her up, and play with her on the floor for a while. Her teeth start bothering her again, and nothing I do soothes her.
“Come on, honey.” Exhausted and at my wit’s end, I’m on the verge of tears. Ignoring the ache in my shoulders and back, I bounce her in my arms and pace.
Sometime around one in the morning, His Highness walks through the door. “Babe. You’re up.”
“No shit, I’m up.” I glare at him while I pat Layla’s back.
He glances back and forth between me and the baby. “Are y’all okay?”
No, I’m far from fucking okay. I take a deep breath so I don’t throw a lamp at his head. “I need you to watch your daughter for ten minutes so I can take a shower.” I hand him Layla. Before he can respond, I lock myself in the bathroom, crank the water, and sob into my hands.
What am I doing here?
Did I think I had grown from this trip? Because I feel like the same girl I was in Wild Heart, hiding behind books and the “no talking in the library” sign.
I love Jace, but if this is the life he wants, I’m not sure I can handle it. Besides, it’s not like he’s told me he loves me. Signing “xoxo” on a card isn’t a declaration of love. He’s made me no promises.
Wait. He made two.
At the beginning of all this, he swore he’d never embarrass me.
But as I scrolled through all of those videos of him and his ex earlier today, I was humiliated. My father might not know we’re married, but he knows we’re together. What if he sees those clips?
Jace’s family and our friends know we’re married. It might not mean anything to him, but it means something to me.
He also promised he’d never pursue anyone else without breaking up with me first.
My throat gets tight when I think of how cozy Marlowe looked on his lap. And he just let her sit there.
Stupid, Aurora. You fell for the wrong kind of man all over again.
After I shower and get a handle on my emotions, I finally emerge to find Jace sitting on the couch. Layla’s asleep on his shoulder. “Hey, babe,” he whispers. “I’m so sorry about this week. It’s been hell.”
“It sure looked like hell from those videos Marlowe posted.”
He closes his eyes. “I wanted to warn you about that, but I still can’t find my phone.”
“Whatever. I’m going to bed.” I’m not in the mood to hash this out with him in the middle of the night. “Your daughter’s been teething for two days straight, and I’ve held her so long, my arms are numb. So now it’s your turn.”
I should tell him about his stalker dropping off my shredded sweater, but I’m too tired to care. I crawl into the bed farthest from him and face the wall.
A few minutes later, I hear him rustling around the room.
Then he kneels by my side of the bed. I stare at this beautiful, frustrating man.
At the exhaustion on his face. At his rumpled clothes and disheveled hair.
He doesn’t look like someone who’s been partying or messing around behind my back. It gives me a moment of pause.
He gives me a sad smile. “Let’s talk tomorrow. I wanna give you space and let you get some sleep. I just want you to know I’m sorry. I wish I could’ve escaped for a little while to see you and Layla.”
I nod and try not to cry. “Can you wake me before you leave in the morning? Maybe we could talk a little then?”
“Yeah.” He kisses my forehead. “Night, baby.”
Maybe I just need some sleep and I’ll feel better tomorrow.
Except when I get up, he’s already gone.