Chapter 28
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
kate
“You have to buy this house for this bathroom alone,” Chelsi declares, gawking at the enormous soaker tub and steam shower. “You could fit two people in this tub. Do you have any idea how much fun that could be? And the shower bench is at the perfect height—”
“We should check out the closet,” I say, attempting to prevent Chelsi from making another sexual comment in front of the high-end realtor working with us.
Danica was not pleased when she found out Jake couldn’t join me for the showings, so the last thing I need is for her to get a full dose of Chelsi.
Danica gives major ice-queen vibes and definitely does not get Chelsi’s sense of humor.
“Oh my God. This closet is bigger than my bedroom.” Chelsi disappears into the walk-in closet. “Holy shit. There’s another one. Please tell me you’re going to put an offer on this house.”
“We’re only just getting started. I’m sure there are lots of options for us to consider.
Danica had two more homes lined up for us to view next,” I reply, trying to dampen Chelsi’s excitement a bit because there is no way in hell my cautious personality would allow me to make such a rash decision. Especially without Jake here.
A small pang of sadness hits me, missing him and wishing we were having this experience together.
It’s the start of us building a life in Chicago, and he’s missing out.
Although I completely understand his need to stay in Nashville for the next few weeks to work on the album and soothe the band’s concerns, I can’t pretend it doesn’t hurt.
Or that it doesn’t bring up some of my previous insecurities—ones I thought I was past until now.
“It seems Chelsi is a fan of this house. Do you have any strong feelings about it?” Danica asks pointedly, trying to suss out exactly what I’m looking for and whether today is a waste of time.
How do you politely tell someone you don’t know what you want and will be making zero decisions anytime soon?
To someone who only makes money when you finally close on a home.
Yeah, it’s a precarious situation I have to dance around, because I need her to stay engaged, but I also have no plans on doing anything until Jake’s here.
I tried to explain that to him earlier, but he insisted I go on these showings without him, confident I could pick out what we needed.
“Both homes are lovely. Lots to talk about with Jake. But I doubt we’ll be making any offers today,” I answer, following Chelsi down the hallway as she searches for the next bedroom. If anything, Chelsi is getting more out of this than I am. It’s only making me question why I’m even bothering.
This nagging sensation hits me again, one that I’ve experienced before. It takes my breath away when I finally connect the dots. Is this situation similar to how I felt when Brian left all the wedding planning to me? Will Jake delegate major decisions about our lives to me to complete?
No. He wouldn’t do that. But isn’t that what’s happening now?
Fuck. This is so confusing.
Chelsi continues to be vocal as we finish up the showings, peppering Danica with questions about each home as if she’s the one making the purchase.
I remain mostly quiet, consumed by the negative thoughts running through my mind—the ones making me question whether Jake is going to be as much of a partner as I originally thought.
“Have you and Jake decided how long you plan to live in Chicago?” Chelsi asks, sitting cross-legged on the sectional in our condo as she takes a sip of her Sauvignon Blanc. “I assume you’re not going to split your time between here and Nashville forever.”
“We haven’t set a firm timetable yet, only that we’d want to have one home base when we have children,” I reply, a hint of unease in my tone because, while we agree on the general idea, the spreadsheet-loving side of me wants more information.
A clear timeline we’re working toward rather than a nebulous date.
Chelsi leans in, her eyebrows arched high with a giddy smile. “I swear that man is ready to wife you up at a moment’s notice. How often does he bring up the subject of kids?”
“He’s mentioned it a—”
Three loud knocks on the door interrupt us.
“Hold that thought. Let me get rid of whoever is here. I swear I’m going to go ape shit crazy if it’s another uber fan who’s bypassed security.” Chelsi sets her wine glass on the coffee table and heads to the front door.
From where I’m sitting, I can’t tell who’s there and can barely overhear the brief conversation Chelsi’s having with them. When she steps back into my view, she has a huge smile on her face, carrying a huge vase of cream roses and a decorative box.
“You have presents. I bet they’re from Jake. Seriously. Does this man have a brother? A cousin. Legit anyone in his family who you could hook a girl up with,” Chelsi teases, placing the flowers and box on the coffee table.
For a brief moment, my chest tightens, and I’m unable to move.
Paralyzed by what’s standing in front of me.
I force a smile, reaching over to read the card and feeling the tension dissipating when I see it’s from Jake, apologizing for missing out on house hunting with me.
He’s sent my favorite flowers, along with a box of chocolate-covered strawberries.
Although it’s an incredibly sweet gesture, my brain keeps flashing back to memories of Brian doing something similar.
Sending a bouquet of red carnations every time he broke a promise.
The size of the bouquet directly correlated to the significance of the broken promises.
That’s not what this is. Jake isn’t Brian.
Am I being triggered by receiving the same type of gift from someone else? Will I feel this way every time Jake sends me flowers when we’re apart? Constantly assuming there’s more to it than the sweet gesture he intends it to be. At what point will my trauma finally stop haunting me?
“Earth to Kate,” Chelsi says loudly, tapping my arm. “Are you okay?”
I nod, hoping it will somehow remove the spiraling thoughts from my mind. “I’m fine.”
“Ugh. The dreaded ‘fine.’ What’s wrong?” Chelsi asks, grabbing her wine and locking her eyes on me.
“Trying to wrap my head around everything.” I take a large gulp of wine to buy me more time before Chelsi starts the inquisition we both know is coming. Using the word “fine” activates her digging skills. She won’t stop until she’s gotten to the root of the problem.
Chelsi appraises me for a minute, tapping her nails against the wine glass, waiting for me to give her any additional clues. “Are we doing brutal honesty or supportive cheerleader?”
I startle at her question, not expecting to get a choice in the matter. “Let’s go with supportive cheerleader.”
Chelsi chuckles. “Wrong answer. You’ll get brutal honesty and then a mini pep talk. That’s all the supportive cheerleader I have in me today.”
I scoff. “Why bother asking me what I wanted, then?”
Chelsi smirks. “To see whether you were going to pick the right one. Or if you’re going to pretend everything’s fine when you’re internally freaking out.”
“I don’t know—”
“Nope. You know the rules of brutal honesty. I talk, you listen.”
“Fine,” I retort, crossing my arms and bracing myself for whatever she’s about to throw my way.
She tucks her legs under her, taking one more long drink of wine before staring at me.
“You’re spooked. It’s probably a combination of things, but you have that deer-in-the-headlights look on your face, like you did when you ended things with Jake.
I supported your decision then because you needed to work on yourself.
Whatever bullshit you’re concocting in your head about how things might be doomed between the two of you has got to stop. ”
I swallow hard, hating how well she can read my inner thoughts. “I’m not going to run this—”
“Don’t want to hear it yet. I still have more to say,” Chelsi replies.
I mimic zipping up my lips and throwing away the key. Anxious yet eager to learn what else she believes is going on with me, wondering if she can unravel the complicated emotions overtaking me that even I don’t quite understand.
“Your first boyfriend-slash-ex-fiancé was a douchebag. Now you’re dating a celebrity and have been thrust into a life you wouldn’t choose for yourself.
Everything about that is hard. It’s only remotely impacting me, and I’m stressed about all of it.
” Chelsi pauses for a moment to take another sip of wine.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if Jake’s thoughtful gift of flowers didn’t immediately make your brain go on high alert, remembering the times when Brian did the same thing.
But he’s not Brian. And you’re not the same woman you were back then, either. ”
“I know,” I whisper, reminding myself how much I’ve grown in the last year.
“Now that we’re done talking about the douche canoe and how he should never take up another second of your thoughts, it’s time to fess up about the root problem.”
I bite my lower lip and avert my gaze. “Not sure what you’re talking about.” It’s technically not a lie because I’m worried about countless different things and don’t have a clue which one she might be referring to.
“Uh-huh. Why don’t you admit that being on tour with him isn’t as easy as you’d thought it would be? Or how you’re unsure how your career and his lifestyle will mesh together long-term?” Chelsi’s eyebrows raise unnervingly high, and her nails tap against the wine glass.
Damn it. I love and hate how well she can read me. Makes it nearly impossible for me to hide anything from her.
“Ugh. Fine,” I groan, throwing my head back and shaking it momentarily.
“I thought being on the road with Jake would be this big adventure. Traveling to new cities every day, seeing the sights, and spending a ton of time together. And it’s turned out to be nothing but staring at tour buses and identical amphitheaters on repeat.
” I drag my teeth over my lower lip, nervous about how this sounds, because what kind of person complains about traveling with their famous boyfriend to a new place every night? Apparently, me.
“It’s hard to envision maintaining my current career and being on the road like this every weekend for the next however many years. I’m beginning to understand why so many other significant others of country musicians don’t have traditional careers.”
Chelsi chuckles, almost like she’s shocked it’s taken me this long to come to that realization. Perhaps I’ve been living in denial.
“Not to mention, it’s hard to have my every movement photographed and filmed nightly.
One girl filmed my reactions throughout the concert.
I’ve never had so much anxiety watching Jake perform as I did last night.
Terrified I might make some odd expression for a minute and end up as a meme on social. ”
“Ignore it. Act like they aren’t there and go about your business. You can’t control what people film or what they post,” Chelsi states calmly, like it’s the most obvious answer to my problems.
“That’s easy for you and Jake to say. You both enjoy being the center of attention. I hate it. And now I’m in the center ring three nights a week.”
“I get it. There isn’t much you can do about any of that without skipping out on his shows. At least you get to have mind-blowing sex every night. Doesn’t that make up for being gawked at for a couple of hours?”
I chuckle, my cheeks reddening. “There are definitely benefits to being on the road with Jake. I’m probably just being whiny and need to get over it.”
“You’re having a hard time adjusting to this new lifestyle because you can’t control it.
You can’t plan out your life anymore like you’re used to.
” She takes a long drink of her wine before locking eyes with me again.
“And it’s unsettling because you’re questioning whether the future you might want looks different than what you previously had in mind.
And that’s okay. Give yourself permission to want something different. ”
Talk about hitting the nail on the head. Chelsi’s ability to get to the heart of the matter leaves me in stunned silence.
“Now it’s time for the mini pep talk. You and Jake are fantastic together.
He encourages you to be the most authentic version of yourself and never tries to force you into a box to become what and who he wants you to be,” she says with a soft smile, followed by a sigh.
“Although it may seem like a new challenge pops up every day, you’re going to weather this storm.
There’s no doubt in my mind you’ll end up happily married to Jake.
Become one of those adorable old couples who set the bar for what a good marriage is. ”
“When did you become so knowledgeable about relationships?” I ask, flabbergasted by how accurately Chelsi understood how I’m feeling and what my heart truly believes.
“It’s like the saying, ‘Those who can, do, and those who can’t, teach.’ I can’t date effectively, but I can give the best fucking advice on how to do it.” She laughs gently, a hint of sadness in her eyes.
As much as she jokes about her spectacularly bad luck in relationships, I know, deep down, she’s looking for the right man who will treat her like the queen she is. One day, she’ll find her Jake. I know he’s out there somewhere.
“So, what are you going to do about the house situation?” Chelsi sinks back further into the couch. “I’m ready for you to buy the first one we saw.”
I roll my eyes at the thought of doing something that spontaneous. Something I would never do, but Chelsi would.
“Jake and I need to align on a rough timeline for how long we’re planning to stay in Chicago.
It doesn’t have to be set in stone, but it will help better refine what type of housing we want.
Right now, I don’t know whether I should focus on finding a place for the two of us with space for an occasional overnight guest or buying a family home because we may be here the first few years after our kids are born. ”
Chelsi’s mouth drops open. “Did you just mention having kids? On your own? Without any prompting? I’d better call him and tell him to lock you down before you get spooked again.”
“I can’t be that spooked. There are only a handful of things that would be red lines for me when it comes to Jake, and I’m confident I don’t have to worry about him crossing any of them.”