3. Carly
CARLY
Boone turned into his parents' driveway, and my stomach tightened.
The house sat at the end of a long gravel drive, all white columns and old money, the kind of place that made you feel small the second you walked through the door.
I'd been coming here for ten years, and it still felt like walking into someone else's life.
Boone parked near the front steps and cut the engine.
He pulled out his phone before I'd even unbuckled my seatbelt.
"You ready?" I asked.
"Yeah." He didn't look up. His thumb moved across the screen, tapping something I couldn't see.
I got out of the car and smoothed my hands down the front of my dress.
It was navy blue, simple, the kind of thing Diane wouldn't be able to criticize without sounding petty.
I'd learned that trick years ago. Boone came around the car and took my hand, his fingers warm and familiar, and for a second I thought maybe tonight would be okay.
Maybe we could just get through dinner without anything going wrong.
Then the front door opened, and Diane appeared at the top of the steps.
"Boone," she said, smiling. She came down to meet us, her heels clicking on the stone. "You're late."
"Sorry, Mama." Boone let go of my hand and kissed her on the cheek. "Traffic was a mess."
Diane turned to me, her smile thinning. "Carly," she said. "You look well."
"Thank you." I returned her smile, keeping my voice even. "It's good to see you."
She didn't say it was good to see me. She just nodded and turned back to Boone, already launching into something about the dinner she'd planned and how long it had taken the cook to get the roast just right.
I followed them up the steps, trailing a few paces behind, and told myself it didn't matter.
Inside, the house smelled like rosemary and expensive candles.
The dining room was already set, the long table draped in white linen and covered with more silverware than any single meal required.
Gordon stood near the sideboard, pouring himself a drink.
He looked up when we walked in and nodded at Boone.
"Son," he said.
"Dad." Boone shook his hand, and they exchanged the kind of stiff, formal greeting that always made me feel like I was watching a business transaction.
Gordon glanced at me. "Carly."
"Gordon," I said.
That was it. That was the whole conversation. He turned back to his drink, and I stood there feeling like furniture.
Emily came in from the kitchen, carrying a basket of bread. She saw me and her face lit up. "Carly," she said, setting the basket down and crossing the room to hug me. "Thank God you're here. I've been stuck listening to Mama talk about seating arrangements for twenty minutes."
I laughed, hugging her back. Emily was the only reason I didn't dread these dinners completely. She was twenty-six, seven years younger than Boone, and she'd never treated me like I didn't belong.
"I brought wine," I said, holding up the bottle I'd been carrying.
"Perfect." Emily took it and grinned. "We're going to need it."
Diane's voice cut through the room. "Emily, put that in the kitchen and come help me with the appetizers."
Emily rolled her eyes at me, but she went. I stood there for a second, not sure what to do with my hands, and then Boone's phone buzzed. He pulled it out again, frowning at the screen.
"Everything okay?" I asked.
"Yeah." He tapped something, still frowning. "Just work stuff."
The front door opened again, and I heard voices in the hallway. Diane swept out of the dining room, her heels clicking, and a moment later she came back with Savannah at her side.
My chest went tight.
Savannah looked perfect, like she always did. Her blonde hair was swept up in a loose twist, and she was wearing a cream-colored dress that probably cost more than my entire wardrobe. She smiled when she saw Boone, bright and warm, and he smiled back.
"Savannah," Diane said, her voice full of something I couldn't name. Pride, maybe. Satisfaction. "You remember Boone, of course. And this is Carly, his wife."
Savannah's smile didn't falter. "Of course," she said. She looked at me, and her eyes were kind in a way that felt rehearsed. "Carly, it's so good to see you again."
I forced a smile. "You too."
Diane gestured toward the table. "Savannah is Boone's business partner now," she said. She said it like she was announcing something important, something we should all be impressed by. "Her father's label is signing him. Isn't that wonderful?"
"That's great," I said. My voice came out flat, but nobody seemed to notice.
Boone and Savannah started talking, their heads close together, and I stood there watching them like I was watching a play I hadn't been invited to audition for. Diane was watching too, her expression pleased in a way that made my skin crawl.
Gordon cleared his throat. "Let's sit down," he said.
We all moved to the table. Diane had assigned seats, because of course she had.
Boone sat at one end, next to his father.
Savannah sat across from him, perfectly positioned so they could talk without anyone else getting in the way.
I was down near the other end, next to Emily.
Diane took her seat at the head of the table and smiled at all of us like she'd just orchestrated something brilliant.
"Shall we?" she said.
The cook brought out the first course, some kind of soup that was probably very expensive and tasted like nothing. I picked up my spoon and tried to focus on eating, but my hands felt clumsy and my stomach was too tight to hold much of anything.
Diane was talking about the weather, about the new garden she'd had installed, about some charity event she was planning.
Nobody was listening. Boone was scrolling through his phone under the table, not even pretending to pay attention.
Savannah was picking at her soup with delicate little bites that made her look like a bird.
Emily leaned over and whispered, "You okay?"
I nodded. "Fine," I whispered back.
She didn't look like she believed me, but she didn't push.
Diane set her spoon down and turned her attention to Savannah. "Tell us about the deal, dear," she said. "I know Gordon and I are just thrilled that you and your father are working with Boone. It's such a wonderful opportunity."
Savannah smiled, modest and gracious. "Daddy's very excited," she said. "He thinks Boone has incredible potential. The new material he's been working on is exactly what the label's looking for."
Boone looked up from his phone, finally. "Your dad really said that?"
"He did." Savannah's smile widened. "He thinks you're going to be the biggest thing to come out of Nashville in years."
Diane beamed. Gordon nodded, looking satisfied. Boone grinned, and I saw that same light in his eyes that I'd seen at the concert, the same excitement that made him look like a kid who'd just been handed everything he'd ever wanted.
Nobody looked at me.
The cook brought out the main course. Roast beef, potatoes, vegetables arranged in neat little rows on the plate. I cut into the meat and tried to eat, but every bite felt like swallowing glass.
Diane turned to me, her expression pleasant and sharp at the same time. "Carly," she said. "You've been so quiet tonight."
Everyone looked at me. I set my fork down and tried to smile. "Just enjoying the meal," I said.
"It's lovely, isn't it?" Diane tilted her head, studying me.
"You know, I was just thinking the other day how nice it would be to have grandchildren.
Some of my friends are already planning christenings and birthday parties, and here I am with none.
" She laughed, light and airy, like it was a joke.
"I suppose I'll just have to keep waiting. "
My throat went tight. I felt Emily shift beside me, her hand brushing mine under the table.
"These things take time, Mama," Boone said. He didn't look at me. He was cutting his roast, his attention already moving on.
Diane sighed. "I suppose," she said. "But it would be wonderful, wouldn't it? A little one running around. Someone to carry on the family name."
I wanted to tell her it wasn't her business.
I wanted to tell her that I'd spent years trying, that Boone and I had talked about it and tried for it and nothing had happened, and now we barely talked at all.
I wanted to tell her that every time she brought it up, it felt like she was twisting a knife I'd already learned to live with.
But I didn't. I just nodded and said, "It would be wonderful."
Savannah looked at me, and for a second I thought I saw something flicker across her face.
Pity, maybe. Or satisfaction. Then it was gone, and she turned back to Boone.
"You know," she said, "Daddy was asking about your process.
How you write, where you get your ideas.
He wants to feature you in an interview for the label's podcast."
Boone's face lit up. "Seriously?"
"Seriously." Savannah leaned forward, her elbows on the table. "He thinks your story is compelling. The son of a successful lawyer who walked away from the family business to follow his passion. It's very marketable."
Diane looked pleased. Gordon looked less so, but he didn't say anything.
Boone was already talking, animated and excited, telling Savannah about the songs he'd been working on and the direction he wanted to take the next album.
She listened like every word he said was the most important thing she'd ever heard.
I picked up my water glass and took a sip, just to have something to do with my hands.
Savannah turned to me suddenly, her expression curious and kind in a way that set my teeth on edge. "Carly," she said. "What is it you actually do?"
The table went quiet. Everyone was looking at me again.
I blinked. "I'm sorry?"