Rory
When I get back to our hotel, I pause in front of our door and wipe my eyes. I’m a snotty mess, and I realize there’s no way I’ll be able to hide this from Susan, so I stop trying and unlock the door.
“Thanks so much for your help. What do I owe you?”
She waves me away. “It’s my pleasure. Watching babies keeps me young.
” Her smile fades when she gets a good look at my face.
“Oh, dear. What’s going on?” I can’t handle her kindness, and the waterworks start again.
“Come here.” She hugs me, and I sob into her shoulder. “Is this about the new tour dates?”
New tour dates? I pull away and wipe my eyes again. “What are you talking about?”
Her brows pull up. “Maybe it’s not my place to say anything, but I thought you’d know by now.”
“Know what?” A sense of dread grows in my belly.
“The label added more concert dates to extend the tour. Niles wants to test out touring Marlowe and Jace together.”
“Without Garrett?”
“Don’t quote me on this, but I think so. Frank says Garrett’s contract is expiring, and he wants to take a break.”
I know the feeling. “Is this a done deal? The extra dates?”
“I’m not entirely sure, but I think so.”
I can barely spit out the words. “How many new dates?”
Looking up, she starts counting but then shrugs. “It’s at least two more months, well into the fall.” She pats my hand. “To be honest, I was upset too. I’d love to get my husband back some time this century. But you know Frank. He loves this band so much. He’ll do anything for these guys.”
I don’t remember the rest of our conversation because it feels like my head is underwater. After she leaves, I play with Layla and feed her dinner, but I’m in a daze.
Did Jace genuinely not think to mention this to me?
There’s nothing like storming off after you break up with your husband, only to have to edit videos of him flirting with his ex.
In the stillness of our hotel room with only the quiet breaths of Layla, who’s sleeping nearby, and the hum of the air conditioning, I can admit I’m devastated.
Every moment watching Jace and Marlowe smile at each other and flirt and croon together tears me open.
But, like the responsible person I am, I do my job.
I’m about to post when I get a text from some PR person at Bandit who offers me “suggestions.”
My temple throbs as I read them.
This is what they want? Fine.
I replay the videos to get good clips and post them with taglines like, “Love singing with my favorite girl!” Or, “So good teaming up with the gorgeous Marlowe Miller again!” Or my personal favorite, “They say art imitates life. I’ll let you decide which is which.”
Then I play them back again because I can’t stop watching this train wreck.
People in infidelity circles call this “pain shopping,” when you go looking for all the ways you’ve been betrayed.
I did it with Hayden after I caught him with Taylor.
I lurked in their social media and cried every time they posted their sweet photos together.
Every time our friends told them they made a great couple.
Every time someone told Hayden he’d leveled up with Taylor.
Do I think Jace has recently fucked Marlowe? No. But my heart can’t distinguish pretend flirting with an ex from genuine desire, and it certainly can’t handle them flaunting that chemistry in my face.
Maybe if I hadn’t been cheated on in the past, this wouldn’t be a big deal. Maybe I could sit back with everyone else and laugh about how fans will eat this up.
But that’s not who I am.
And Jace knows that but still chose this path.
Then again, the man married me so he could bring a nanny on his tour. He’d do almost anything to make it in music. I can’t decide if he’s impulsive or driven.
I’ve been thinking that I can’t compete with Marlowe, but the truth is, I can’t compete with this industry. It demands a hundred percent, twenty-four seven. It’s a price Jace is willing to pay.
I stare at the rain suddenly lashing against the windows in the darkness.
Does Jace really expect me to stand on the sidelines for the rest of the tour while he and Marlowe perform together and flirt on stage every weekend?
This, right here, is why I had my walls up when I met him. I suppose some part of me always expected this from Jace Walker.
As I dab my eyes, I can admit I’m mostly pissed at myself because he got me to do things I’d never consider if any other man asked. Go on tour and stand in crowds for hours on end. Withstand heat and bugs and annoying bandmates to cover his events. Live on a cramped bus for months straight.
But the worst part is the sex. Not that I slept with him, but that I was so vulnerable with him. I can honestly say he didn’t coerce me at all. I offered myself willingly.
Give him blow jobs all the time? Sure. Sixty-nine him so we can both get off at the same time? Great. Spread my legs in the bathroom mirror so he can watch? No problem.
It’s ironic I judged the groupies when I first joined the tour.
How am I any different? We call this a relationship, but is it?
Or does Jace give me lip service because he needs my help?
Does he have sex with me to make me malleable?
Does he call me his girlfriend because he has no other options because we’re already married?
See, I thought I knew him, but that was before I had to stand three feet away from him and Marlowe as they sang about how he’s obsessed with her body.
By the time I’m done posting and scheduling more posts, I’m pissed all over again, especially when I remember he extended his tour without so much as mentioning it to me.
That’s fine. Jace can continue his whirlwind tour with his asshole band and his asshole label and his asshole friends.
But he’ll have to do it without me.
Because I’m applying for that librarian job and going home.