47. Bailey
bailey
. . .
The mirror in the hotel suite feels achingly familiar.
Like a deja vu moment I don't want to be a part of.
One year ago I stood in front of another mirror in another suite wearing crystals and sequins and a smile so practised it hurt my face.
A year ago I was Country Princess Bailey Brooks.
With the perfect hair and posture, but what no one knows is, I was a perfect lie.
Tonight the woman in the reflection looks nothing like her.
I don’t even recognize myself tonight. Black lace clings to my arms and chest, sheer in places, the fitted dress softer and darker than anything my team would have picked a year ago.
My makeup is smudged slightly around my eyes on purpose, my blonde hair loose and natural around my shoulders instead of sculpted into soft polished curls.
Tonight won't sparkle. Tonight they won’t get the princess… just me. Or at least whatever version of me survived this past year.
I stare at myself for a long moment, fingers tightening around the edge of the vanity. Last year I looked like something the industry built. Tonight I look like ragged grief.
A knock sounds softly behind me before the door opens and Luke steps inside holding two coffees. And for one impossible second my chest hurts so badly I almost can’t breathe.
Because last year I begged him to come. Tonight he is already here. I didn’t have to chase or beg. In the reflection of the mirror I see Luke standing in the doorway in black pants and a matching button down with his tie hanging loose around his neck like he forgot to finish putting it on.
His eyes move over me slowly.
“You okay?” he asks quietly.
No. But I nod anyway. Because I don’t think there’s words to accurately describe how un-okay I am.
He crosses the room and hands me one of the coffees before setting the other down beside my makeup bag.
“You should eat something.”
“I can’t… I haven’t been able to keep anything down.”
His eyes soften slightly and he looks like he wants to say something, but holds it back. He has been doing that a lot lately, being there for me, but holding back.
My phone buzzes against the vanity and instinctively my chest tightens. For one split second my brain still expects it to be Sadie wishing me luck and telling me she is proud of me. The realization hits immediately after. I swallow against it and look down anyway.
It’s not Sadie. It’s Cole.
My throat closes before I even open the message. Luke must see something on my face because he goes very still beside me while I unlock my phone.
And then I see the picture.
Thomas stands in the middle grinning proudly in a black Bailey Brooks tour shirt, with Rose beside him wiping at her eyes while smiling anyway. Cole holds Iris against his chest.
And Iris…
Iris is wearing a tiny little onesie with my face on it.
I make this horrible sound halfway between a laugh and a sob. Luke steps closer immediately. The message underneath the photo is simple.
Cole
We’re watching from home.
Iris can’t wait till she’s old enough to see her auntie Bailey perform.
My vision blurs instantly. Cole has barely spoken since Sadie died. He moves through the world now like every piece of energy he has belongs to Iris. Like the only reason he remembers to breathe, stand… Show up is because of her. For her.
And somehow he still thought to send me this. I press the phone against my chest trying not to completely fall apart before we even leave the hotel. Rachel said she would meet me at the venue and that alone felt strange.
I close my eyes, taking steadying breaths. Readying myself for what I am about to do.
Luke’s hand settles lightly against my lower back and the words bubble out of me, “I don’t know how to do this without her,” before I can stop myself.
Silence stretches between us. Then quietly Luke says, “You don’t have to do it alone. I know you have every right not to believe me. But I am here, Bailey.”
The words hit somewhere deep and aching inside me. Because one year ago those words were what I needed from him. Now I want to simmer in my rage, but Luke keeps showing up, softening my jagged edges and I don’t know what to do with that.
The red carpet is worse this year. Last year it felt intrusive, tonight it feels vicious.
Cameras explode the second we step from the SUV, flashes so bright they blur together while security pushes us forward.
The screaming starts instantly.
“Bailey!”
“Luke!”
“Over here!”
“Are the baby rumors true?”
“Bailey did you cheat on Luke with Jackson Reed?”
“Luke are you back together?”
“Bailey what can fans expect from the performance tonight?”
“Was the DUI a gimmick?”
“Is Wild Again about you and Rhett?”
“Where’s the baby?”
“Luke, how does it feel watching your wife move on publicly?”
My entire body goes rigid and I fight the urge to lash out right here and now. Beside me Luke’s hand brushes mine once. Not enough for cameras to catch. Just enough for me to feel it. Like he knows what I need right now. I look over at him and he isn’t looking at the camera’s, he is looking at me.
I lift my chin and keep moving. Questions slam into us from every direction while people scream my name like they own pieces of me. And maybe they do. Maybe I sold those pieces away one song at a time.
Inside the venue the noise dulls, replaced by backstage chaos and bright lights and producers speaking into headsets, running around making sure everything is ready to go.
Just like last year.
Only last year I still believed this mattered. Tonight I feel like a ghost walking through a memory. Rachel appears the second we clear security and her eyes immediately scan me head to toe.
“You look incredible.”
“I don’t look like me.” I whisper, my emotions all over the place.
“Maybe you are exactly who you need to be right now to get through this moment.”
I feel my throat threatening to close up and I have to blink back the tears pushing to fall. Rachel grabs my hands before I can move away.
“Listen to me carefully,” she says quietly. “No matter what happens tonight, you do not owe these people anything. But I want you to think about what you owe yourself.”
I look away first. Because if I hold eye contact I might break.
“You don’t understand,” I whisper.
“No, Bailey.” Her voice softens. “I understand perfectly.”
Luke stays quiet beside me. But I can feel him watching me carefully.
The stage manager appears a few minutes later.
“Opening performance in five.”
The countdown begins and you can hear the crowd getting excited.
This is the first year that they needed an arena because the demand for public seats at an award show has never been this big.
My pulse starts pounding harder with every passing second, suddenly all my anger is mixing with my grief and it’s too close to the surface.
The songs I wrote after Sadie died sit inside me like open wounds and part of me wants to bleed all over this stage. Part of me wants every executive and label head and reporter in this building to hurt. To feel even a fraction of what they took from me.
Luke catches my wrist gently before I can walk toward the stage, his thumb brushes once against my pulse point.
“Whatever you do… whatever happens. I am here. No matter what,” he says quietly.
My throat burns instantly, before I can respond, they call my name and suddenly there’s no more time. The arena is completely dark when I am guided out onto the stage. I don’t have a giant production planned. Just me, my guitar and a spotlight on my rage.
The crowd screams when they see movement on the dark stage. They turned the arena floor into the seating area for the performers, nominees and executives. Everyone deemed important tonight. But the sound is coming from the thousands of people in the seats surrounding me.
I stop at the mic stand, reaching for my guitar and grip it so tightly my fingers ache.
The opening chord waits in my chest, the pain is sharp and it’s meant to burn everything down.
The spotlight hits me and the crowd goes quiet in anticipation. I open my mouth and nothing comes out. The silence stretches and the crowd shifts uneasily somewhere beyond the lights.
I try again, still nothing. Because suddenly all I can think is:
Sadie should be here.
Sadie wanted me to live…
She wouldn’t want this…
I can’t breathe.
I hear murmurs in the crowd.
Then…
A guitar strums softly through the arena. They are the wrong chords for what I planned. But I know them by heart. My head jerks upward.
And then I hear it.
Sadie.
Her voice fills the arena soft and raw. Laughing slightly through the first lyric like she did whenever we recorded late at night and she forgot cameras were rolling.
My entire body locks and all around me massive screens flicker to life. Video fills them instantly.
Sadie sitting cross-legged beside a bonfire singing next to Jackson.
Sadie laughing so hard with Rhett in the studio.
Sadie dancing barefoot through the studio with Iris still in her belly.
The audience goes completely silent. I don’t know if I am holding my breath or if I can’t physically breathe anymore.
Jackson steps into a spotlight first, then Rhett and Noah.
The music builds softly around Sadie’s recorded voice while more clips fill the screens behind us. Her singing in the kitchen, teasing me in the studio and curled beside Cole smiling into the fire. She is everywhere.
Everywhere.
My chest caves inward.
I can’t do this.
I can’t…
My knees buckle and suddenly Luke is there. His strong hands catching me before I hit the floor.
The crowd gasps somewhere far away but all I can hear is Sadie’s voice echoing through the arena.
“I can’t,” I whisper against Luke’s chest. “I can’t do this.”
His hand slides against the back of my neck, grounding me.
Then he gently turns us toward the microphone. Behind us the guys keep playing while the videos continue rolling across the screens.
Sadie laughing in the truck with the windows down.
Sadie singing off-key.
Sadie alive.
Then through the speakers her voice cuts through again.
“Come on Bailey,” she laughs softly. “Sing for me.”
A sob tears out of me and Luke closes his eyes briefly like the sound physically hurt him too.
Then I hear his voice beside hers. I feel it in every fibre of my being, the low steady familiar voice I love.
“There’s no place I’d rather be…”
The words slam through me instantly. They are not the same anymore. They aren’t the words that blew up the remains of our marriage, they aren't how I tried to rebuild myself after… Not after everything.
Now they mean:
I am here.
I came back.
I choose you everyday.
My tears fall harder and Luke keeps singing. He isn’t performing for the crowd. He isn’t even looking at them. He is entirely focused on me.
He is here for me.
And somewhere between his voice and Sadie’s laughter and the videos behind us…
I found mine again.
Soft at first, broken. Then stronger. The crowd is so silent I swear the entire arena stops breathing, not wanting to interrupt this moment.
By the final chorus I’m crying openly while Luke faces me completely, singing like nothing else exists. Like there really is nowhere else he would rather be.
The song ends to absolute silence.
Then the screens shift again and another video starts. Me and Sadie in the truck on the drive back from the beach. Windows down, hair everywhere. Both of us scream-singing Wild Again while laughing hysterically.
Rhett steps toward the mic smiling sadly. “Luke,” he says quietly. “You wanna do me the honour?”
Luke looks at me immediately and I understand the question instantly.
Do I want this?
If I want him gone, he’ll walk off this stage.
If I want distance, he’ll give it.
If I want this moment without him…
He’ll let me have it.
But suddenly the idea of him leaving feels unbearable.
So instead I start singing. The opening line of Wild Again cracks slightly through my tears while the videos behind us keep rolling.
Me stealing Noah’s cider. Jackson singing to Sadie’s belly. Noah singing loudly around the bonfire, Rhett joking about my giggle and Luke watching me when he thought I wasn’t looking.
A life.
Our life.
Luke joins me on the chorus. By the final note the entire crowd is standing. Crying, cheering and screaming. Then the screens fade one final time. A single photo fills the arena. A group picture of the last night Sadie was alive. Words appear slowly beneath it.
In Loving Memory of
Sadie Mercer
Beloved Mother, Sister, Daughter & Friend
The arena explodes as the stage goes dark and my legs finally give out. Luke doesn’t hesitate as he scoops me up and walks with me off stage.
And for the first time in a long time, I don’t feel alone.