It’s never too late, I think to myself as I leave. I believe that. Truly.
Maybe I’m wrong about Dallas. Maybe he doesn’t just care about his music and his career. Maybe he cares about me, too.
But if he doesn’t, if he wants absolutely nothing to do with me or my little gummy bear, then so be it.
This wasn’t supposed to be my life, either; unwed mother at almost twenty-four isn’t exactly my childhood dream come true, but it is my life now. And I’m going to live it the best way that I possibly can. My child will know love and kindness and if Dallas doesn’t want him or her, I will want him or her enough for the both of us. And then some.
33 | Dallas
“BABE, I’M NOT TRYING TO HATE ON YOUR COOKING OR ANYTHING, but I legit have no fucking clue what these are.”
Robyn’s smiling at my ignorance when she comes back into the room with a tray of what I hope is recognizable food.
The tour just wrapped up last week and I have a few days before I leave for Mexico. Robyn blew me off for a while, saying she didn’t want me to catch what she had. As much as I didn’t want to sound like a lovesick idiot, I was twenty-five kinds of relieved when she finally called and invited me over for dinner.
“They’re kale chips, silly. Try one.”
“They’re green and it looks like a plate full of the garnish I usually ignore when it’s sitting next to my steak.”
“How very observant of you. Just eat one. They taste like potato chips. I promise.”
Reluctantly, I lift one to my mouth. “Here goes.”
Robyn watches me, an amused grin playing at her lips.
“Stop smirking at me,” I say once I’ve swallowed. “They’re all right, I guess. Though you do know we have plenty of potatoes here in the great state of Texas, right?”
“Potatoes are full of starch, which turns to sugar.”
I pop another freaky green baked leaf into my mouth. Now that I know when Robyn got so nutritionally conscious, I try to just go with it.
“So what other surprises have you got over there?”
“None. I made the Greek chicken that you like and sautéed some vegetables. Ones you’ll recognize.” She slides the tray of food closer to me. “There’s flour tortillas if you want to make a fajita.”
“Sounds good to me.” I work on assembling my fajita while Robyn grabs me a beer. When she returns I see that she’s drinking plain water.
“No wine tonight? Or good old Midnight Bay bourbon?”
I expect her to toss a throw pillow at me but she just sits down. Across from me instead of next to me, which is just plain disappointing. I’m pretty sure I was invited here for a specific reason, more than just to try kale chips. I have a bad feeling it’s not a reason I’m going to like.
“Nope. Plain old water tonight. I’d never drink bourbon with dinner anyway. It’s more of a dessert drink.”
“Too bad. I’d hoped there’d be a bottle lying around somewhere. I wanted to celebrate.”
Robyn’s eyes widen. “Celebrate?”
“My big news. About the tour. I kind of hoped that’s why you invited me over.”
Part of me thinks she’s messing around and that any minute she’s going to bust out a bottle of champagne. Either she’s developed some hard-core acting skills or she truly has no clue what the hell I’m talking about.
“Your big news,” she says slowly. “News that I should’ve heard about by now.”
“The international leg of the tour.” I press my gaze deeper into hers, trying to figure out if she’s playing dumb or if she really has no idea I’m about to be out of the country for nearly three months.
“The tour,” she repeats, her intonation at the end making it sound like a question.
“The international dates have been confirmed. Mexico, Brazil, Canada, London, and maybe even Australia and Tokyo. We leave Monday morning. Did no one at work mention this to you? It’s huge for my career and for Midnight Bay. So basically it’s huge for both of us. I was kind of hoping you might be coming along.” I take a bite of my fajita, and the slightly spicy chicken with the hint of lemon is the best thing I’ve eaten in forever. My girl is a fantastic cook, even if she does substitute garnish for potato chips. “This chicken is amazing, by the way. It’s still my favorite.”
Robyn is staring dazedly at me so I set my dinner on my plate and push it to the side.
“Robyn?”
Suddenly she shakes her head as if shaking herself out of a daydream. “Yeah, um, I mean no. No, I’m not coming on the international leg of the tour. But wow. That’s . . . big news. Congratulations.”
“I can’t believe no one told you.” This doesn’t make sense. I heard Mandy and a few others talking about it. They mentioned Midnight Bay partnering with similar companies overseas. How do I know this and she doesn’t?
“I knew Jase’s tour contract was extended,” she says slowly. “I was out sick for a bit and must’ve missed the announcement that they’d added you on to that leg of the tour as well.”
“I would’ve asked how you’ve been feeling, but you look like you feel one hundred percent better.” Or she did at least, until I mentioned the international tour dates. Now she’s kind of pale and looking like she might be sick again. “You’ve been with the tour this long, I can’t imagine they’d want to send anyone else.”
I should just say it. I should just come right out and tell her the truth. I don’t want to go to all of these new places where I’m going to be a fish out of water without her. The memory of the night in New Orleans is burned into my memory—and not just because of the sex—though, good Lord, I think records were broken and laws of gravity were defied. But the city came alive for me because of her. I want her with me. Always.
The startling realization leaves me sitting there stunned.
“We have marketing associates who specialize in those areas—speak the languages and know the trends—much better than I ever could. I could ask, but they wouldn’t send me. If they did, I’d just be in the way.”
“You’re never in the way, babe.” I try to catch her gaze, but it’s focused on some point past my left shoulder. I glance in that direction but all I see is her spare bedroom door and it’s closed. “You all right?”
“Yeah, um, yes. I’m fine,” she answers too quickly. But then she returns her attention to her food and we eat in awkward silence. Or I do at least. She barely touches her chicken.
“You all done?” she asks once I’ve cleaned my plate. “I’m kind of beat. Being sick took a lot out of me.”
I nearly get whiplash from the sudden turn of events. “I thought you invited me over here to tell me something. If it wasn’t congratulations on the extended tour, what was it?”
Robyn pulls back and glances at the door. She’s either ready for me to vacate the premises or anticipating that I will bolt after she tells me whatever she needs to.
“Dallas,” she says softly. “I do need to tell you something and you might not like it.”
“Okay.” I stand in case it is something that makes me want to leave, but now I feel like I’m looming over her, intimidating her. Being sick did take a lot out of her. Looking closer, I can see that she’s lost at least five or ten pounds. Crouching into her personal space, I lower myself onto the wooden pallets she’s refurbished into a coffee table and place my hands on her hips, pulling her to me. “What is it? Whatever it is, you can tell me.”
Her body is rigid in my arms, which is so completely unusual it causes me to take my hands off her.
“It’s this,” Robyn says, gesturing between us. “I can’t do this anymore. Not with you.”
Before my brain catches up, I have a physical reaction that I have very little control over. My heart pounds harder, my hands tighten on her waist before I release her. My mouth is dry and my brain empties of all coherent thoughts.
“I don’t know that I understand exactly.”