Just as he says that, I find the picture he’s talking about. With a big headline—“Jonny B and C-James Together Again?” The article speculates about him and I having broken up or if he’s cheating on me with her. And they seem to think both options are equally understandable. Oh my God.
“Gabby, calm down. It’s not what it looks like.”
“Oh my God,” I say again, just now realizing I said it out loud before. “Oh my God.” That last one is because this particular website seems to think I’m trying for a fame grab by dating Jonathan.
“Gabby, I swear. It was a hug between old friends. Our publicists tried to make it look like we were dating when we were teenagers, but that was ages ago, and we’ve never had any chemistry. We were always just friends. She had a thing for Brendan at the time, actually, not that that ever went anywhere either. Anyway, that’s not the point. The point is, I’d never cheat on you. Ever. They find the worst angles and Photoshop what they can’t get for real. I didn’t kiss her. You have to believe me.”
I’ve only been half listening to him as I scan the article, but I finally realize he’s trying to defend himself. “I know, Jonathan. That’s not—yeah, okay, I’m not thrilled that it looks like you’re kissing some other girl. But I trust you. I know you wouldn’t do that to me.”
“Oh, thank God.”
A smile comes to my face as I imagine him deflating with relief. He’s probably been running his hand through his hair, yanking on the strands, and now his hand is finally relaxing, his posture wilting as he realizes I’m not pissed at him.
“Sorry. I was reacting to the article. They’re apparently not big fans of mine and would rather see you with her.”
“Yeah, well, they can go suck a bag of dicks.”
I burst out laughing. “That’s quite a picture.”
“I wish you were here, Gabby. I miss you so much.”
“I know.” I close the tab on my browser, sitting back in my desk chair. I can’t look at that picture, that article, anymore. I’m just making myself crazy. “I miss you too.” It’s my turn to heave a deep sigh. “I wish there were some way to prove crap like that wrong. They think we’ve broken up. Or that you’re cheating on me. And they’re positively gleeful about that prospect. I don’t know if that says more about their low opinion of you or of me.”
He snorts. “Yeah, well, I can’t say I’m too worried about their low opinion of me. But I do worry about your opinion.” He’s quiet for a minute. “You know, there is one good way to convince them we’re still together.”
My eyebrow quirks up, even though he can’t see me. “Oh yeah? And how’s that?”
“You come here for the summer. Stay with me.”
I let out another deep breath. “Yeah. That would probably do the trick. It’d also make my parents lose their shit.”
“I could try talking to them. See if we can change their minds.”
I tap my fingers on my desk, thinking it over. “It couldn’t hurt. We could video chat even. If they can see you, that might help.”
“I could even fly out there and stay for a week or something before bringing you back with me. Let them get to know me in person.”
I hold my breath and consider that. This isn’t a new conversation. We’ve had some variation of this for the past three weeks since I got back. “But you have to be in the studio soon.”
“I could reschedule.”
A sad smile comes to my face. “No. You can’t. You and I both know it.”
“Fine. I’ll tell them all to fuck off and just move to Dallas for the summer. Surely there are producers there. I’ll record my own album and go indie.”
My smile grows wider, but I shake my head. “That would be silly. You already have a great contract, a great manager, a great producer, and a label that wants you so bad they’ve already bent over backwards for you. I think your manager would cut your balls off if you tried to back out of everything at this point.”
“Yeah,” he sighs. “You’re right. I know. It’s just—“
The silence stretches, both of us unable to articulate how we feel about the entire situation. We love each other, but there’s so much keeping us apart right now. And it sucks. Hard. “I know,” I whisper. “Me too.”
“Yeah.”
“Let me talk to my mom. I’ve been here a few weeks already. She might be more open to the idea now that I’m not fresh off the plane from being gone for months. Hell, maybe they’re getting tired of me already and will be happy for the excuse to get rid of me.” Riiiight. Like that’s true. Ha.
Jonathan chuckles. “Yeah, sure.” He knows that’s a load of crap as much as I do.
My parents are both protective of me as the baby of the family. Going to school two thousand miles away was hard enough on them, even though my brother did the same thing a few years ago and still lives there. That’s the only reason they’re okay with me going to Marycliff at all. I’m not sure how they would’ve reacted if I picked New York or Massachusetts. I guess I’ll get to find out now.
“I’ll let you know what my mom says.”
“Okay. And tell me if there’s anything I can do to help convince them.”
“I will. I love you.”
“I love you too.”
After we hang up, I go looking for my mom. First I need to figure out something for us to do together to soften her up and cement our connection. Then I’ll hit her up about going to California for the rest of the summer. I’ll need her on my side before we approach Dad. He’s the one who’ll be the hardest to convince. Maybe I should get my sister Marissa in on it too. Three against one is even better odds, right?
* * *
I end up waiting until the next day before approaching my mom about going to California. She started selling real estate when I was in high school, and she had two showings today, one in the morning, and one in the late afternoon. Before she left this morning, I told her I’d make dinner. Part one of my plan to soften her up.
She looked surprised for a second, but said, “Okay,” and proceeded to tell me what she had planned for that night. I’ve switched it up and decided to make baked spaghetti instead. It’s a long-standing family favorite, but Mom doesn’t make it very often because, while it’s simple, it takes a while to put it all together. I’ve just layered everything in the baking dish and popped it in the oven when Mom comes home. Perfect timing.
Pouring us both a glass of sweet tea, I motion for her to join me at the table. “How did your showings go? Did your clients find anything they like?”
She takes a sip of her tea, her eyebrows raised. “There’s one possibility. They’re going to talk about it and decide if they want to make an offer. It’s priced a little higher than they want to spend, but they might decide to see how motivated the seller is.”
“That’s great. I hope they get it if they like it.”
“Me too. But if not, there are more houses and lots of nice neighborhoods in the area. I’m sure we’ll find them something.” She glances from me to the kitchen, her eyes focusing on the oven timer. “What are you making, Gabby? The dinner I had planned didn’t need to be baked.”
I lift a shoulder and sip my tea. “Baked spaghetti. I haven’t had it in a long time and thought it would be nice.”
Her gaze sharpens on me, and she looks down at her glass of tea, then at the kitchen again, before settling on me once more, a knowing look in her eye. “Making dinner, and baked spaghetti no less. And you’ve cleaned up your dishes already and loaded them into the dishwasher. And now iced tea with your mom? Something you want to talk about, Gabby?”
Shifting in my seat, I look down at my glass, running my fingers over the condensation gathering there. “Well, now that you mention it …”
“Let me guess. This is about a boy.”
I give her a wan smile. “I miss him, Mom. And he misses me. His schedule is too busy right now for him to come here. I’m not doing anything, so it makes sense for me to go there.”
“And how long do you plan to visit?” She sips her tea, but her eyes never leave my face.
I clear my throat and pull my shoulders back. “Until August.”
Mom’s eyebrows fly up at that. “Six weeks?”
Looking away again, I give her another casual shrug. “I was thinking until school started.”
“So your father and I would get three weeks with you? Maybe four to give us time to buy a plane ticket? And then you’d just disappear until … when? Would you come home for Christmas? Not till next summer? Maybe not even then?”
“Of course I’d come home for Christmas!” I protest. “It’s not that big of a deal. I’m nineteen. Lots of college kids don’t spend the full summer at home. They do summer sessions, or a study abroad trip, or … I dunno. A million things. My only plan was to practice and take lessons. I’m sure I could find a teacher in LA. It’s not like it’s the middle of nowhere.”
Mom hums, but doesn’t say anything. The silence stretches between us as she thinks. Mom’s a thinker. She likes to take her time to come to a conclusion, but once she does, changing her mind is almost impossible. I really need her to come down on my side. I want to say something, but I’m afraid that if I push too hard, I’ll push her into telling me no.
Her dark eyes that mirror mine focus on me again, and she sets her glass down. “Say we decide we’re okay with this, your father and I. And you go to California to be with your boyfriend. Where will you stay?”
“Well,” I take another fortifying breath, “Jonathan has an apartment close to the studio where he’ll be recording. I plan on staying there. With him.”
“I see.”
One look at my mom’s face tells me she’s not going for it. So I pull out my trump card. “Lance had already moved in with Abby by this point in their relationship. They were only together for like two months before they got an apartment. Jonathan and I have been together for nine months.”
Mom gives me a look. “Your brother was twenty-two and out of school already. You’re only nineteen.”
“Abby was twenty.” I tilt my chin up, refusing to give in on this.
“I’m not Abby’s mother. And that sweet girl had to grow up far too fast anyway, bless her heart. She’s been more of a parent to her mother than the other way around.” Mom shakes her head, and I’m not sure if it’s about Abby and her family situation or about me.
But I press on. “I’m not even going to be living with him permanently. Just for the summer. And then I’ll be going back to Marycliff at the end of August, and he’ll be doing his thing. Finishing up his album. Getting ready to go on tour.”
Reaching across the table, Mom pats my arm. “I’ll think about it, Gabby. Your dad isn’t going to like this idea one bit. You know it, which is why you went to the trouble of talking to me first.” I open my mouth, but she holds up a hand to forestall my protest. “I get it, Gabby. I do. I know you think we’re old and unreasonable, but I promise, we’re really just trying to look out for you. And we’ve missed you. We already have one child who barely ever comes home. We didn’t expect to add a second one to that list so soon. You’ll have to forgive us if we aren’t leaping at the chance to send you away when you just got home a few weeks ago.”
I nod, sitting back in my chair.
Mom stands and comes around, smoothing a hand over my hair and kissing me on the forehead. “I love you, Gabby. I promise we’ll figure out a way for you to go visit him. I’m not sure it’ll be for the whole summer, and I’m definitely not thrilled with the idea of you staying alone in his apartment with him, but I’m sure we can spare a couple of weeks in the next month or so for you to go out there.”
Recognizing that as the best I’m going to get right now, I get up and wrap my mom in a big hug. “Thank you, Mom.”
With a chuckle, she pats me on the back. “Don’t thank me yet. We still have to convince your father.”
Chapter Two
Jonathan
I hit the button to accept the video call on my laptop, turning to set aside my guitar as I answer. “Hey, little diva. How’re the ‘rents? Get them to change their mind yet?”
Instead of Gabby’s light alto, a deep baritone answers me. “Well, now. That depends on quite a few things.”
Freezing with my fingers still around the neck of my guitar, I close my eyes, silently cursing myself for not looking at the screen before saying anything when I knew that I’d be talking to Gabby’s parents today. Pasting on my most charming smile, I turn to face the screen. “Hi, Mr. Kane. You’re looking well today.”
One dark eyebrow arches above his steely blue eyes, the expression I’ve seen on Gabby a million times looking strange on his hard, craggy face, his salt and pepper hair and blue eyes looking nothing like his daughter. But the disdainful disbelief dripping from that one look is so Gabby, no one could ever deny that she’s his daughter.
I clear my throat and run my hands on my thighs, grateful that I’m thousands of miles away right now. I could definitely see this guy deciding to punch my teeth in if I say the wrong thing. And since I’m sleeping with his baby girl, “the wrong thing” opens up a lot of possibilities. “I, uh, expected to talk to Gabby first. I didn’t realize …”
“I gathered.” There’s dry amusement in his voice. I’m sure he can tell I’m uncomfortable, and he’s enjoying that fact.
A hand from off-camera slaps his shoulder lightly, and a female voice that sounds like an older version of Gabby says, “Now, Jon. Be nice. We’re trying to get to know him better and figure out a way to make your little girl happy. You promised you wouldn’t be this way.”
His craggy face softens and he moves back from the camera, making room in the frame for his wife to sit next to him. She gives me a smile, her brown eyes warm, her chin-length brown hair the same color as Gabby’s, except where it’s shot through with streaks of silver. “Hi, Jonathan. How are you today?”
“Good.” I return her smile. “How are you, Mrs. Kane?”
A light laugh escapes her. “I’m well. Please, call me Elizabeth.”
Relaxing ever so slightly, my smile becomes more genuine. “Elizabeth, then.”
“You can keep calling me Mr. Kane.” Gabby’s dad gives me a hard look, straight into the camera, so there’s no mistaking that he intends the menace behind his words.
Elizabeth gives him a quelling look before turning back to me. “You’ll have to excuse my husband. He has a difficult time with change. And sending Gabby out to California this summer is definitely a change of plans for us.”
I clear my throat. This isn’t news to me. Even though I know Gabby told them about us and that she wants to come visit this summer. Apparently they hoped we’d break up again once we were apart like at Thanksgiving. They don’t realize how committed to this relationship we both are.
“I understand,” I say, trying to be diplomatic. “But I’m sure you can understand the difficulty of a long-distance relationship. Since she doesn’t have any real obligations over the summer, it makes more sense for her to come here than for me to come there. And I’ll have an easier time keeping her out of unwanted press here than if I were to come to Dallas.”
Elizabeth smiles at me, then gives her husband another one of those looks while he mutters something under his breath. “Yes, we understand all that. But she is our youngest daughter, and she’s still only nineteen. We expected to spend this summer with her, since we haven’t seen her since Christmas.”
“Especially since she wasn’t even supposed to go to school that far away,” interjects Mr. Kane. “She should’ve stayed in Texas like we’d planned for years. Plenty of good music schools here.”
“Um …” I’m not sure what to say to that.
“Honey, it’s time to let it go. She made her choice already. And she’s your daughter, which means she’s as stubborn as a mule. You know that if we don’t work with her that she’ll just find a way to make it happen without us. She’s legally an adult, so there’s nothing we could do to sto
p her.”
He crosses his arms, sitting back in his chair and grumbling to himself. I’m a little confused, but cautiously hopeful as I turn my attention back to Elizabeth.
“So you’re okay with Gabby coming to visit? Where is Gabby anyway? I thought she’d be part of this conversation.”
Elizabeth looks to her left, and Gabby’s head pops into view. “Hey. Sorry. I’m here, don’t worry. There’s just not anywhere for me to sit where you can see me. My sister, Marissa, is here too. All we’re missing is my brother and his wife, and it’d be a regular family conference.” She gives me a cheeky grin, but I recognize the nerves running underneath her humor.
In the background, her dad stands and motions for her to take his chair, then a minute later he comes back with another chair. Now I can only see part of his shoulder and arm when he sits on his wife’s other side. But at least I don’t feel like I’m discussing Gabby without her around.
Elizabeth takes over the conversation. “Now. Are we okay with Gabby coming to visit?” She purses her lips. “That depends. We’re okay with her coming for a limited period of time—say two weeks—before she comes back here for the remainder of the summer. And we need to discuss where she’ll be staying while she’s there. She mentioned something about staying in your apartment?”
“Yeah, I have a two-bedroom in a nice complex. There’s good security here. She’ll be safe.”
“Good. So if she’s in your apartment, where will you be staying?”
Gabby’s dad’s head pushes into view. “That’s my wife’s subtle way of telling you that there’s no way in hell she’s coming if you two are staying together.”
I swallow, trying to come up with a solution on the spur of the moment. I should’ve seen this coming, but I didn’t. I thought assuring them that Gabby could have her own room would be enough—not that I ever had any intention of her staying there instead of in my bed, but I figured what they don’t know can’t hurt them. Clearly that’s not enough.
Double Exposition (Songs and Sonatas Book 1) Page 23
