Nick tapped his fingers on the table. “Well, you probably shouldn’t take relationship advice from me, but I can tell you one thing: if you love her, don’t let her walk away without a fight.”
“Even with a lie this size?”
“I know her lie was a doozie, but she was scared and, it sounds like, carrying around a truckload of baggage. Finding out you’re about to have a baby is a scary experience, even when you’re already married. And can you imagine her dilemma when she miscarried? She would’ve had to decide which would cause you more pain—telling you there was a baby or telling you there wasn’t.”
Matt considered his words. Had she really thought she was being selfless? Putting his needs and dreams ahead of her own?
Nick emptied his pint, turning the glass upside down. “You’re an open, giving guy and one of the best things about you is you always let people make amends. Yes, maybe this will prevent you from getting back together, but I think you need to let her explain—in a non-heated moment—so you don’t have to carry this around with you forever.”
Matt pinched the bridge of his nose. “Maybe.”
“Sleep on it.”
“If only I could. I didn’t sleep one wink last night.”
“You want to come over and hang with me and Henry tonight? We can ride to practice together tomorrow.”
“Shit. I forgot all about practice.”
“Dude, we moved it to Sunday for you, so it wouldn’t interfere with your final week at the station.”
Matt closed his eyes and shook his head. “The station. How do I go back there?”
“You don’t have to.”
“I signed a contract and . . .” Matt stuttered to a stop.
“Is the radio gig about proving to everyone you’re more than a pretty face?”
Matt snorted. “Damn self-help magazines.”
“And Matt?”
“Yes, oh wise one?” He was glad he’d called Nick. He might still not know what to do about Amy-Lynn, but at least the vise that was strangling his heart had loosened a little.
“Work out what you need for yourself, but don’t think for a minute that you need to prove anything to the band.”
Matt’s smile faltered. “Sure, whatever.”
Nick tapped his fingers against Matt’s glass. “I’m serious. If the teasing bothers you, tell the guys.”
Matt snorted. “Right. Then they’ll tease me about being all touchy-feely.”
A smile broke across Nick’s face. “Better you than me, brother.”
“If they start in on me, I’m totally throwing you and your magazines under the bus.”
“Go ahead, it’s not like anyone will believe you.”
“Grace would. She’s like some sort of clairvoyant.”
Nick chuckled. “And yet, she’s willingly living with Andrew.”
“Wonders never cease.” He clinked his empty glass against Nick’s. “Thanks, man.”
“You bet. Meet me at the house?”
Matt nodded. “Yeah. I’m just going to run home and grab some clothes.”
Nick slid to the edge of the booth and stopped, turning back to Matt. “Think about what I said. I often wonder, if I’d been more understanding, whether Kirsten and I would still be together. I’m still upset with the way she acted, but I miss her more.”
Matt nodded. Did Amy-Lynn’s lie trump how much he wanted to be with her? His heart knew the answer. His mind was going to need a little more convincing.
Matt threw a t-shirt, boxers, socks, and jeans into a duffel bag. Add in a couple of things from the bathroom and he’d be good to go to Nick’s place. He flipped on the light and stared at the man reflected in the mirror.
That face. His face. It sounded ridiculous, but it was both a blessing and a curse. It opened doors. He couldn’t deny that. But it also kept people from looking deeper. People, like the server at the bar tonight or women at the signing table, made assumptions. They didn’t bother finding out who he was as a person. They didn’t care.
But when did he stop caring?
When did he start believing he was nothing more than the way he looked?
When did he start doubting his talent?
Was it when Amy-Lynn walked away? Or was her rejection just an easy excuse? A way to play it safe and never have to try too hard?
It didn’t matter anymore.
Amy-Lynn hadn’t left him because he wasn’t enough. Nick told him he had nothing to prove to the band. The radio station had done nothing but compliment his work.
No one was going to bury the doubts for him. That was a one-man job. And it started now. He tossed deodorant and a toothbrush into his bag and flipped off the light.
He locked his apartment door and, walking down the hallway, texted Nick. On my way.
He’d figure out what to do about Amy-Lynn tomorrow.
Tonight, he was figuring out what to do with himself.
Chapter Twenty
Avery had spent the last forty-eight hours thinking about what she really wanted from her life. She’d forced herself to take long walks so there was no chance of getting caught up in lists and color-coded spreadsheets. She needed to listen to herself without all her organizational crutches.
When Jess had asked for her assistance with Wyatt, she’d said no. And only felt guilty for a few minutes. Okay, maybe an hour. She’d replayed her conversation with her mother and saw her parents’ marriage through a new lens. She’d stumbled upon a southern red oak—her father’s favorite—and sat cross-legged under its sprawling branches. She closed her eyes and asked him for forgiveness, for assuming he was running from his family.
She cried for the baby and the man she lost.
And finally, she asked herself the million-dollar question: did she simply want forgiveness from Matt, or did she want him back in her life as her partner?
The answer had roared through her, nearly knocking the breath from her.
She’d run home. And that brought her to where she was now, rinsing out a cereal bowl, impatiently waiting for a return text. Not much of a lunch, but her stomach refused most everything.
She needed help, and she needed it today. She wanted matters settled with Matt as quickly as possible. Grace’s loyalty was undeniably with Storyhill, but she hoped she would still help.
Had Matt told anyone about her secret? What would they think?
She shook out her shoulders. It didn’t matter. It’s not like she could change her decisions now. The first step in jettisoning her baggage was to stop worrying so much about what other people thought.
Her phone pinged and she ran to grab it.
Storyhill is in a closed practice today, Grace wrote. But I know someone on the inside. ;) Text me when you get here and I’ll meet you at the door. I don’t know what happened, but Matt looks terrible. And I love grand gestures.
Too bad Avery didn’t have a grand gesture. She couldn’t offer him her heart. She’d given it to him fifteen years ago, and he’d had it ever since.
Thanks, she texted back to Grace. When I told you it’d be cool to collaborate, this is not what I had in mind. C U soon.
She laid her phone back on the counter and ran up the stairs. She rummaged through her drawers until she found it. Her OU sweatshirt—or rather his. She’d never been able to part with it. She pulled it over her head, and it dropped nearly to her knees.
It was a little warm for a sweatshirt today, but she had a feeling she was going to need to pull out every trick in the book.
Would he be angry that she was interrupting practice? Would he blame Grace? In the end, it didn’t matter. She needed to get to him as soon as possible, and especially before tomorrow’s show.
Avery descended the stairs to find Momma, Jess, and Wyatt making lunch.
“You feeling okay, Sissy?” Jess asked. “It’s kinda toasty for a sweatshirt.”
Avery tried to steady her quaking fingers. “I’ve felt better.”
Jess felt Avery’s forehead. “Oh no, did you get Wyatt’s c
old?”
“No, it’s nothing like that,” Avery said, shaking her head.
“It’s the nauseousness you get when you decide to go after your dreams,” Isabel said, a smile playing on her lips.
“What?” Jess said, before understanding dawned. “Oh. Oh.”
“There’s a reason people stay inside their comfort zones,” Avery said, rubbing her belly. “It feels terrible out here.”
“Comfort zones are boring,” Jess said. “Welcome to the technicolor side of life.”
“Boring!” Wyatt echoed, slamming his chubby fist on the counter.
It was just enough to break the tension. Avery laughed, and the colony of butterflies in her stomach stopped fluttering so fast.
“I’m proud of you, Amy-Lynn,” Isabel said.
“What if he doesn’t forgive me?” Avery whispered.
“Then you can finally move on,” Isabel said.
“Forgive you for what?” Jess asked, looking at Avery and Isabel.
“It’s a long story. I’ll tell you later.”
“How bad can it be? It’s not like you’ve ever done anything wrong in your perfect life.”
“I’m far from perfect.”
“Really? Because from where I stand, you’re the perfect one and I’m the screw-up. You’re the perfect daughter, the perfect sister—always taking care of everyone else. And don’t even get me started on your job—you set a goal at twenty-two and achieved it in less than ten years. What did you do? Out perfect him?” Jess chuckled but stopped when she looked at Avery’s face.
A dam burst inside of Avery. She didn’t want to be that perfect girl anymore—or rather, the woman who thought she needed to be perfect to atone for her sins. She was exhausted. And empty. She’d made keeping up the facade and beating herself up a full-time job. Suddenly what Momma just said felt like a lifeline. Yes, she wanted a life with Matt, but if he couldn’t forgive her, she’d be free of the secrets.
And here was her chance to take a baby step. She turned to Jess and blew out a giant breath.
“I was pregnant and didn’t tell him.”
Jessica’s mouth dropped open, and the spoon she was holding clattered to the counter. “Wait, what?”
Here goes nothing. “I got pregnant shortly before college graduation and didn’t want to repeat Momma and Daddy’s mistakes.” She looked at her mother, and Isabel nodded, encouraging her to continue. “So, when he proposed, I said no, and never told him about the baby. Until Friday.”
“He proposed? And not because you were pregnant?”
“That’s correct.”
Jess spun on her stool toward their mother. “Did you know about this?”
Isabel nodded. “I did, but not until after the miscarriage.”
“A miscarriage? Oh, Sissy.” Jess’s face fell. “Did you go through that alone?”
Avery dropped her eyes to the floor and nodded.
Jess jumped off the stool and threw her arms around Avery. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You were just a kid.”
Jess scoffed. “I was twenty. That’s hardly a kid.”
Avery steadied herself on the kitchen island. “I made some bad decisions.”
“Like not telling Matt,” Jess said, stepping back from Avery.
“Like not telling Matt.”
“Matt Daddy!” Wyatt yelled.
“Wyatt knows Matt was the daddy?” Jess asked.
“No, Wyatt called Matt ‘Daddy’ when we went to pick him up on Friday. The daycare teacher said it was because most of the other kids call the men that come in Daddy,” Avery explained.
“Want Matt!” Wyatt said.
Avery kissed her nephew on the head. “Me, too, Wyatt. Me too.”
“Then go get him,” Jess said, as if it was easy as going to the grocery store for a loaf of bread.
“It’s not that easy, Jess.”
“Well, it’s not if you keep standing here. Go.” She gave her a little push in the back. “Follow my lead and take a step into the unknown. Who knew my life would ever be an example to you, Sissy?”
“Let’s not get too cocky,” Avery said, managing a small laugh.
“I agree, mi hija. If doesn’t work, I’ll make a key lime pie this afternoon, and it’ll be waiting for you.”
Jess strung her arms around Avery’s shoulders. “We’ll all be waiting. Me, Momma, and Wyatt. You don’t have to go through this alone.”
She squeezed her sister’s hands. “When did you grow up?”
“I think it happened when my perfect sister threatened to throw me out.”
Avery sucked in a breath and looked up at the ceiling. “I think I just demonstrated I’m far from perfect.”
“You’re perfect for me. For us,” Jess said, pointing to her son and mother.
“Thank you,” Avery croaked out.
“We don’t judge you, Sissy, we just love you.”
If only she could have internalized that years ago. Avery planted a kiss on each of their cheeks before turning toward the door. “Wish me luck,” she said as her hand stilled on the doorknob.
“You don’t need luck, you’re Avery-fucking-Lind,” her sister said.
“Avery-fucking-Lind,” Wyatt echoed.
Jess squeezed her eyes shut. “Say a prayer he doesn’t repeat that at daycare.”
Avery steepled her fingers, smiled, and forced herself out the door.
I’m here, Avery typed, but her finger hovered over the send arrow.
She could do this. She’d told her sister, and she’d been nothing but supportive. She checked in with her body. No signs of an impending anxiety attack.
She hit send on the text.
Grace’s response was immediate. There’s a stage door on the north side of the building. Meet me there.
Avery’s stomach rolled and flipped. Stage door?? I don’t want to end up on the stage.
Her phone pinged. Grace had fast thumbs. Sorry, bad choice of words. It leads into the main floor seating. But in fairness, there’s nowhere to hide in this venue.
Nowhere to hide. Maybe she should do this at a different time—and place. She knocked her fist against the steering wheel. No. Hiding had gotten her here. She needed to do this. Momma’s words played in her head. Today had value. Whether it was a beginning or an end, it was an important step.
The fact she wasn’t having a panic attack spoke to that.
Getting out of the car. See you in a few. This time, she didn’t hesitate.
She swung her legs out of the car. It really was too hot for her outfit. Hopefully, the auditorium would be air-conditioned. Let’s just hope it wasn’t Matt freezing her out.
She located the door and knocked softly. Grace swung the door open and smiled. A good sign. Or at least Avery was going to take it that way.
Avery could hear music coming from the stage. This is not the way she thought she’d first hear Matt perform live.
“Your timing couldn’t be more perfect. The guys are taking a break after this song, probably in about ten minutes. Until then, let’s step in here.”
Grace led her down a small corridor that emptied into the venue’s lobby.
“I know we’ve just met, but if you need to talk about this, I’m a pretty good listener.”
“Matt says you’re clairvoyant.”
Grace laughed. “I’m hardly clairvoyant, but I do spend a lot of time paying attention to the small details. It’s the songwriter in me, I think. Watching people’s behavior helps me write with more emotion.”
“Makes sense,” Avery said, shaking out her hands and looking at the double doors leading to the auditorium.
“Nervous?”
“Incredibly.”
“I don’t know what’s going on with you and Matt, but in the time I’ve known him, I’ve never seen him happier than he was that night at the party. And I’ve never seen him less like himself than today. You bring out the best in him.”
“And the worst, I’m afraid.”
“Really?”
Grace smiled and shook her head. “Really. When I realized I was in love with Andrew, I got so freaked out that I pushed him away with some really bogus excuses. In retrospect, I was a little unhinged.”
“What did you do?”
“My best friend gave me a healthy portion of tough love,” she leaned in and added in a whisper, “she basically told me to pull my head out of my ass. I did and asked for forgiveness.”
“And he obviously forgave you. I don’t think my situation is so easily resolved.”
Grace placed an arm around Avery’s shoulders. “Never underestimate the power of love.”
“How do you know I’m in love?”
“If you weren’t, you wouldn’t be here.” Grace turned toward the looming doors. “The music has stopped. It’s showtime, Avery Lind.”
Grace pulled open a door and held it open. Avery threw her shoulders back, straightened the sweatshirt, and marched into the auditorium. Matt hadn’t noticed her entrance, deep in conversation with two other bandmates.
Nick, if she was remembering right, tapped Matt on the shoulder and then with a speed belying his size, hustled the other three men off stage.
Grace squeezed her hand and whispered, “Good luck.” She slipped up the side stage stairs and stopped to say something to Matt. Avery couldn’t hear it.
“Hi,” Avery breathed out. What happened to her voice?
“Mac,” he said, standing center stage, not moving. “How did you get in here?”
“I had some help.”
“Oh,” Matt said, nodding, “that explains Grace’s comment.”
“What did she say?”
“That I shouldn’t be angry with her, she did it in my best interest.”
“I hope you agree with her—or will.”
“Is that my sweatshirt?”
Avery pulled at the hem of the oversized shirt. “I could never bring myself to get rid of it. I was wearing it on the—"
He frowned. “The day I proposed.”
“I so wanted to say yes. I’ve spent nine years wishing for a do-over, the chance to make a different choice. I’m so, so sorry.”
“For what?”
Don't Let the Music Die (The Storyhill Musicians Book 2) Page 21
