Chapter Twenty-Nine. Riley
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Riley
I’ve been trying to hold everything together for Luna, but as I whisk the eggs for her omelet, my mind is running a mile a minute.
The Rolling Stone article came out today, and despite our best efforts to avoid any photographs of the two of us, the first photo within the article, after the glamour lead shot of Luna onstage, is a shot where she’s watching me walk out of the dressing room.
You can’t really see me—I’m just an out-of-focus blur of white top and curves in the foreground—but the expression on her face is why everyone’s talking about it.
She didn’t think she was being photographed, and she’s staring after me with pure unadulterated longing.
It’s already inspired a million memes. Everything from the way I look at my morning bagel to I want someone to look at me the way Luna looks at Riley.
I’m not named in the article, but Luna tagged me the other day, and since then everyone has known who I am and I’ve been inundated with both kind messages and messages from people calling me homophobic names, a home-wrecker, and even worse.
And to make things just one level crazier, I leaned about an inch too far out of the VIP tent the other night, and fans got a video of me blowing Luna a kiss and the way her face lit up when she saw me.
It’s the most beautiful moment, but it’s not ours anymore.
Suddenly I’ve been thrust into the spotlight and this lightning rod of a narrative, and I feel completely unprepared for my every move to be scrutinized by millions of people.
Out of nowhere, a glob of egg hits me in the face. I’ve been whisking so aggressively as I got lost in my thoughts that it’s spilled everywhere. At least this will be a good blooper in my video today. I put the entire bowl in the sink, take out a clean one, and start again.
I remind myself that no matter how crazy everything out there gets, in the kitchen I’m still in control.
I crack three fresh eggs into the bowl and whisk them with milk and freshly ground pepper.
I pay attention this time and take care not to overmix, before pouring them into the preheated pan.
After that’s cooked just enough, I sprinkle the seared peppers and onions I prepared onto it, let it sit a moment more, then fold it over.
I place it on the plate with microgreens and a homemade yogurt parfait cup. This, I can do perfectly.
I bring the tray up to Luna’s dressing room, and when I go to knock, she swings open the door. “I recognized your footsteps.”
I step inside and set down the tray, and she immediately pulls me to her.
I run my hand through her smooth hair and kiss her, holding her tight to me so I can savor this moment and remember it when the noise in my head gets to be too much.
“How are you holding up?” I ask when we finally break apart.
“I’m much better,” Luna says with a smile. “Hudson shared the article with a message of support, and I feel like I said just enough that everyone is standing up for me. Ashley thinks the song will be in the top ten on the charts this week, which would be huge. Finally.”
“I’m glad,” I say. I expect Luna to ask how I’m holding up, if I’m okay with being under the microscope like this. I open my mouth, about to ask if she’s seen all the trolls, but before I can say anything, she kisses me.
“I can’t wait to dive into the new album once this leg of the tour wraps. All I want to do is get into the studio right now. Will you come to New York with me?”
“Oh…” I hesitate, taken by surprise. “I mean, I need to go home first. I love the summers in P-town, and I haven’t seen my dads in almost two months. I’m sure they could use a hand at the shack.”
Luna kisses me, and I melt into her. I try to push away my slight annoyance that she’s making plans without asking me what I want.
Part of what I’ve loved about her is how supportive she is of my work—it’s been so fun to have someone to dream with, when I’ve been quashing my secret culinary aspirations for years now.
But ever since we’ve been outed, she’s been totally focused on her own life.
There’s a Grammy at stake, I remind myself.
This is huge for her career. Anyone would be distracted by it.
And honestly, isn’t my spiraling about telling my dads I want to cook a little inconsequential compared to Luna writing music that girls all over the world will listen to?
“They’ve been doing fine all summer. Why don’t you have them come to New York?
We can see a show with them after I wrap in the studio, go out to nice dinners.
” My hesitation must be obvious, because she switches tactics.
“I can get Ashley to set something up with New York chefs, I don’t know.
I just would love to have you there. I need you right now. ”
“That does sound really nice,” I agree. “My dads won’t be able to leave You’re My Lobster in August. But maybe I can come for a bit.
” But something churns in my gut, and I don’t know if it’s guilt over ditching You’re My Lobster, anxiety over the conversation I’ve put off having with my dads, or unease over how everything is moving on Luna’s timeline here. But I want to be there for her.
“Amazing. I’ll see what Ashley can do,” Luna says. She kisses me again, but I can tell her mind is already elsewhere. “I’ve got to get moving—I’m meeting Sala about potentially collabbing on a song for the new album.”
I head back down to the kitchen, wondering if I should have brought up my concerns to Luna. I don’t even know what I would say, though. There are haters online? It’s scary how invested people are in us? I miss how it was before this?
I start prepping the fish and chips for her lunch, even though I’m not sure if she’ll be back for it. I’m carefully slicing potatoes for the homemade chips when Ashley pops her head into the kitchen. “Riley. Do you have a minute?”
“Of course,” I say, putting down the knife before I cut off a finger.
“Well, first things first, I’m sure this is obvious, but I’d love to officially extend your contract for Asia, Australia, and New Zealand this fall and winter.
But I also wanted to see how you’re holding up.
I appreciate you being so flexible with all of our strategizing this week—it hasn’t gone unnoticed.
I’m sure it isn’t easy being in the spotlight for the first time, especially during this moment. ”
“I … Thank you.” This is what I was hoping to get from Luna earlier today. But instead she just told me about herself and moved on. I haven’t even wrapped my head around the fact that I’m going to get to do this again, but I can process that later. “Are people always this mean on the internet?”
“Unfortunately, yes. You should stop reading the comments. Our team will be monitoring your accounts for any potential threats or noteworthy interactions as long as you’re dating Luna.
If necessary, you can even have one of her assistants log into your account and upload your videos so that you don’t have to be exposed at all. ”
I think this is the nicest Ashley’s ever been to me. I don’t know quite what to make of it. “I appreciate that. I’ll let you know, I guess? This has all been happening really fast.”
Ashley smiles wanly. “That’s what it’s like to date someone famous. I’d hoped to keep things under wraps longer, but c’est la vie.”
“Why are you telling me this?” I blurt out suddenly. “I didn’t think you even really liked me.”
I’m blushing furiously, but Ashley just laughs.
“I never disliked you, Riley. But my entire job is Luna. First I was worried we’d be better off with someone more experienced as a chef.
But you’re fantastic at your job and quickly proved that my concerns were unfounded.
More recently I’ll admit I was hoping Luna would just …
choose an easier path. Find someone else to like.
Not because I don’t like you, but because, I mean, you’ve seen the kind of things people say.
The world has come a long way, but the dark corners of the internet are still really scary.
But I do like you. I can tell you actually care about Luna, which I can’t say about all of her past boyfriends.
I see how happy you make her, and I can hear it in her new music. ”
“Thank you,” I reply. “I do really care about her. And I’m glad you like my cooking.”
“I love your cooking. And agents have been ringing me trying to get to you the past few days. I’m having them vetted, but you’re going to be able to do whatever you want after this tour wraps.”
That should be music to my ears. But instead my chest tightens at her words. After chickening out on the phone the other day, the conversation I’m telling myself I’ll have with my dads feels even more impossible.
“That’s really exciting,” I say, and try to force enthusiasm into my voice. It seems to work, or maybe since Ashley’s real job is Luna, not me, she doesn’t care enough to ask why I’m not more excited.
As soon as she leaves, I pull out my phone and go to Liv’s contact.
My finger hovers above the call button. I should go find Rhia or call my dads or have a more open conversation with Luna.
I should talk to anyone who can actually respond to me.
But instead I give in with a flush of relief and hit call.
The phone rings, but after the familiar four peals, someone picks up. “Hello?” The voice is a young man, maybe even a teenager.
My stomach drops. “Hel-hello? Liv?”
“Um, this is Danny. New number, though. What’s up? Who is this?”
I can’t speak for a moment. I’m stunned. I didn’t think my dads would keep her number active forever, but I didn’t expect them to cancel it without saying anything. I realize they don’t know how often I call her, but it still hits me like a punch in the gut.
“Hello?” Danny repeats.
“I—Sorry. Wrong number.”
I hang up, my heart racing. Even though I know that Liv was never going to pick up, the loss still feels guttural. I choke back a sob, covering my mouth with my hand. I can’t break down right now. I can’t. That voicemail wasn’t Liv. But it was something.
I suddenly feel like I’m doing the impossible. How am I supposed to tell my dads I’m going to cook? I can’t do that. Not without Liv. Not without Luna, who’s now too busy with her own life to remember to ask if I’ve talked to them or how it went. I can’t do this.
My heart is racing, and despite my best efforts, tears are falling.
I wipe my face and take a cut of cod out of the fridge with shaky hands.
As I fry the cod and compose a simple sandwich, just like at You’re My Lobster, my tears subside.
I may not know what to do next. But as I take a bite of the fish sandwich, my version of comfort food, I do know that no matter what, my cooking is here for me.