Chapter Twenty. Luna
Chapter Twenty
Luna
“I think we should make another song together,” Hudson says as soon as we’re alone. He grabs a piece of schnitzel with his fingers and pops it into his mouth, then takes another. “Wow. This is amazing. Who’s cooking for you again?”
“I … What?” He’s taken me totally by surprise. It takes everything in me not to turn around and glance at my wardrobe rack, where Riley’s hiding. I need to get him out of here. “You want to write a new song?”
He nods. “Exactly. I’ll perform with you tomorrow, of course, since I’m here. But I think we need to lean in more before the Grammys. Make sure that we’re all anyone is talking about. We can do some dates, call in the paps, really play things up.”
His hand feels sticky on my shoulder. “Hudson, I don’t know. I just … I think we’re in a different place now than when we wrote ‘You and Me.’”
“Can I take more of this?” he asks, gesturing to the food Riley cooked. I nod robotically. “We have to do something,” he says between bites. “I know they say it’s only about the song quality, but people are voting, so hype matters too. I’m not missing out on this again.”
“I want to win too, Hudson.”
Hudson stops eating and really looks at me, and in a flash I’m reminded of what it was like on that first date and that day in the studio.
How electric it feels in those moments that his focus is on me.
I really did think our connection went beyond music.
“Luna, I want this more than anything. I know you really want it. Everyone really wants it. But I missed out on Best New Artist when I deserved it. Everyone knew I deserved it, and I have to live every day knowing I ruined it for myself with that DUI. I go to AA every week and somehow I’m still telling the same story like a broken fucking record, and it’s that I hate myself.
Not because I ruined every relationship I had.
Not because I was a shit creative partner.
Not because I put people’s lives at risk driving drunk and high.
No. I am still so selfishly obsessed with my music that what I hate the most is that I threw away my own Grammy just to get drunk. ”
He doesn’t look away from me this whole time.
I reach out and take his hand in spite of myself.
Even though I know Riley can probably see us.
My understanding of the weight of a career loss like that is visceral.
If this Hudson was the one who showed up every day, I’d probably be in love with him.
What I thought I felt when we recorded could have become something real.
But glimpses of him that are this authentic are rare, and I wonder why he’s so afraid of being …
himself. “I’m sorry,” I say quietly. “You did deserve it.”
“I hate that I was a better drunk than I was an artist,” he says softly, squeezing my hand in turn. “But ‘You and Me’ is good enough. And I’ve been campaigning for us for months with all of these social media stunts. I want to nail this final push.”
“Hudson, I do too. But I need to write something of my own next.” I pause, thinking, as he runs his thumb over my palm. “I think it’s time, Hudson. You know it. I know it. We need to break up.”
His grip on my hand loosens, and I gently pull mine away. “Are you serious?” he asks. “Is there actually another guy?”
My breath catches for a moment at his words.
Is there actually another guy? Of course everyone assumes it’ll be another guy, after Hudson.
For some reason that assumption feels like a fresh bruise he’s poked his finger in.
Not being seen clearly burns, but when all I’ve shown the world is one thing, why should I expect them to see me in a more multifaceted way?
But also, what will happen when it’s not another guy?
But I don’t say any of that. I just shake my head.
Even though it’s dishonest, when Riley is literally right here.
“There’s no other guy. And I have had such a, um, nice time dating you.
But Ashley actually suggested this … and it’s not the worst idea I’ve heard.
” Hudson’s shoulders relax noticeably when I say this was Ashley’s idea.
He nods, and I continue. “She thought we could maximize press by showing that things are better than ever, then breaking up and shocking everyone, then being seen together before the Grammys so people are still guessing what’s happening, and then ideally performing at the show. ”
It feels like a huge weight off my chest to finally say I want to end this, even if I wasn’t completely honest. “I really care about you,” I add.
“We both know we’re not endgame, but I loved writing the song together and I love performing with you.
I feel like that’s when we’re really great together.
So maybe this can be one last big performance. ”
Hudson purses his lips, and I can tell he’s thinking about it.
As I spoke he leaned back from me almost imperceptibly, so subtle a change that I don’t even know if he noticed, and I can’t tell if I’ve hurt his feelings.
“Are you sure that nothing is going to come out that makes me look stupid? There’s really no other guy? ”
I put my hand on his knee and try to look reassuring. “Seriously, there’s nothing. We’ll be doing this together.”
I hear a rustle behind me, but Hudson doesn’t notice.
It’s only then that I realize what I said.
There’s nothing. Riley isn’t nothing, and I’m gripped by an urge to turn around and shout that, but I get control of myself.
This is my career. If Hudson realizes someone has been in the room for everything he just said, he’ll flip.
My career is most important, I repeat to myself in my head like a twisted mantra.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Hudson asks. “We can always just keep dating; it doesn’t matter what Ashley says. I can propose if you want! That’d be great press.”
I look down for a moment, grateful he can’t see my blush through my stage makeup. “Hudson, you don’t actually love me,” I say quietly. “I can tell.”
“I love that I’m a better version of myself with you,” he says smoothly, cupping my cheek in his hand and gently tilting my face so I’m looking at him. “And I can work on being the boyfriend you deserve.”
“I think this may be the first time we’ve made eye contact offstage in a month.”
He deflates slightly. “I know, I know. I just … I have nothing real left to give after AA and my music. It’s not you, it’s me, really. I know that sounds clichéd, but it’s true. But this has been great.”
“It’s been great for me too,” I say, and it’s the truth.
Hudson may not be the guy who sweeps me off my feet like I thought he would be.
But maybe I don’t need a guy to do that at all.
This has all gone so much easier than I ever anticipated, I’m suddenly weary with relief.
I didn’t realize how stressed I’d been about waiting to break up with him.
He leans forward and kisses me on the forehead. “You’re a great girl, Luna. I’ll see you onstage tomorrow? And our managers can sort the timeline for the rest?”
“Perfect,” I say with a smile.
As soon as the door closes behind him, I jump up and run to the wardrobe rack, but Riley is already halfway out of it. She’s unsteady stepping out of the boots, and I grab on to her waist to balance her. She pushes my hands away.
“I should go,” Riley says, her voice tight.
“Riley, please stay,” I say quickly. “I didn’t mean ‘nothing.’ I just—I was fixing things.”
“Luna, it’s okay, really. I just … I have to go.”
Riley pushes past me and runs out the door in only her socks.
I grab her Birks from behind the couch, ready to run after her.
They look tiny compared to my size-nine boots and are well worn and faded.
I don’t think I own anything that’s been worn as much as these have.
But then I just sit on the couch instead and clutch them as I start to cry.
Because once again, I’m sitting here completely alone.
The next day, I spend thirty minutes ice-rolling my face in the hotel room before I go to hair and makeup. I want to make things right with Riley. But the show comes first. So for now I do my best to push the thoughts of last night out of my mind and focus on the show.
That night, Hudson joins me onstage for the surprise song, and now that our breakup is secured, I feel more comfortable playing up our chemistry.
We’re all over each other and the crowd loves it.
At the end of the night I invite him out again and we make one of my other songs a duet, even though I’ve only ever sung it solo before, and then he stays for the bows and closing fireworks.
Once we exit the stage, he grabs my hand. “Let’s not take the back way. It’ll be cheesy, but it’ll make you look good, I promise.” Knowing that we’re both in on using our relationship for publicity feels so much better than having him just drag me around places.
“Let’s do it.”
I follow Hudson and our security down the backstage steps, hand in hand, and once we’re in view of the people still in the arena, fans scream.
People from the stands start filming and clapping, and Hudson stops walking to clap for me too.
I laugh and roll my eyes, then curtsey, and he picks me up and spins me around before taking my hands again and running across the floor seating area to the other door that leads right to the hallway with my greenroom.
Once we’re in private, Hudson takes the entire plate of cookies Riley left in my greenroom and makes a swift exit through the back door, and I ask a PA to take me to the kitchen.
I follow them downstairs, still in my costume, until we reach a room that smells like freshly baked cookies, and I see Riley packing equipment into giant black cases.
“It smells amazing in here,” I say. I set her Birkenstocks down on the floor next to the counter.