After a week of physical therapy, I am released from the hospital. My anger and my hurt fueled my recovery. I have gone through all the stages of grief. I thought that maybe Barb was lying to me and just wouldn’t let Jameson see me because we had been drinking and with me being pregnant, but I have to face the reality that he’s gone. He left me.
I’ve been moping around my dad’s apartment. Barb insisted on being the one to take care of me. Said it would be too strenuous on Nan. I don’t know why she bothered it’s not like she is ever even home during the day. She’s out lunching and shopping with her friends spending my father’s money. Flopping down on the couch I grab my laptop and check Jameson’s feed on his social media account. He hasn’t posted since before the accident until today. My heart sinks to the floor and cracks open all over again. He’s in California in a recording studio.
I’ve lost him forever.
I type out an angry comment then hit backspace. He couldn’t be bothered to check on me after nearly killing me in that car wreck. Why should I care what he’s doing now?
Because despite all my hurt I still love the jerk. God do I love him. I just want him back. I want to hear his stupid voice calling me Fancy. Telling me I’m his girl and that he loves me.
I close down my computer and fall apart. I feel like my body is being thrown from that truck all over again. Jameson doesn’t want me. Maybe he never really did. My stomach tenses, and I touch my hand to my lower abdomen wondering if the baby I lost knows that even if Jameson didn’t love us, he or she was wanted. I loved him or her enough for the both of us, and I mourn the loss every single moment of every single day. I mourn them both. Jameson didn’t die but eh might as well have. That’s what this feels like. Death.
Karson has been coming over to keep me company and through a shared love of cookies ‘n crème ice cream and our disdain for stupid jerks we are bonding. I’m finding maybe she’s not so bad after all. Especially when she brings over one of Jameson’s CD’s and we burn it in the backyard.
The Present
“You gonna tell me what happened with Wes?” Nan squeezes my hand across the table.
No, I think to myself not all of it. “We broke up. It was never going to work between us anyway.”
“Well, he wasn’t a favorite of mine. You know your home is always here with me.”
“Thanks, Nan. I think during the duration of filming they rent a house or hotel rooms for the contestants. It’s all in the contract.”
“Sounds exciting. Now tell me where Jameson fits in. Pappy said he couldn’t take his eyes off you the other day when he came by.” I roll my eyes at Jameson not her.
“He’s a complication that I will just have to deal with. He’s going to be a judge on the show, and they want to use our shared past for ratings.”
“Sounds dishonest, but I don’t know much about that stuff. Are you going to be okay?”
“Yeah.” I offer her a weak smile with my lie. I am far from okay. But I know how to pretend. How to fake it till I make it. I’ve been faking it since he left me.
Chapter 17
Jameson
My phone buzzes and it’s Pure Country. I have to take this call, and the distraction is welcome. I need to take my mind off Peyton for five fucking minutes.
“Hello.”
“Mr. Lewis, this is Monica over at Pure Country. Mr. Grant needs you to be in the studio tomorrow at five a.m. to tape a promotional spot for the show.” The icy tone of her voice tells me she didn’t appreciate the signed calendar I sent over to her.
It’s a great calendar too. I did a shoot paying homage to all the greats who have influenced my career. Number one being the King himself — Elvis. I have a fascination with him. His talent still amazes me. I guess my obsession with his music started when I was a young boy. My grandmother loved him; she was always playing his music in the kitchen. She loved his movies too. I’d sit and watch them with her on Friday nights. She said she met him once, and he even kissed her cheek. I can still remember the smile on her face as she retold the story for the millionth time. I never got tired of listening to her tell her stories. They were important pieces of her life so that made them important to me.
She passed away when Ruby was a baby. If she hadn’t died when she did my sister and I probably would have lived with her instead of Rodney and Thea, but then I might have never met Peyton or won battle of the bands. I might not be where I am today.
The concierge has a coffee and car waiting downstairs for me. I get in the back of the car and guzzle the caffeinated sugar. I’m feeling rough from another night of going out drinking with Austin. He had to fly back to LA this morning to handle some shit for the band. We are supposed to be recording a new album soon, but truth is I’ve been needing a beak and this show is the perfect excuse. Not to mention I don’t want to be in the same city as freaking Viola. The crazy bitch. Austin said she poured bleach all over all my shit. Everything is ruined. But it’s only stuff.
Sitting in my chair having my hair and light makeup applied I can feel Monica’s icy glare across the room as she watches me. Sorry, babe, I’m not going to be your good time, but I might be hers if I wasn’t so damn hung up on Peyton. My dick would normally jump at the sight of someone as pretty as Gwen Owens taking up the seat next to me. Sh
e’s young but legal. Her long red hair sweeps across her back and she greets me with a warm smile and piercing green eyes. She’s no Peyton. No one compares to her and they never will. She is irreplaceable, I don’t know why I ever thought there could be anyone for her but me.
I flash my sexy grin and as I look her over, I see her texting and smiling at her phone. She catches me glancing at her phone. “My fiancé.” She waves her phone at me. “He says he misses me already.” She giggles and goes back to her phone. She glances over at me again and says, “My fiancée says his mom loves you.”
I smile at her and tell her I will get her an autograph.
Jace Cyrus takes up the chair to my left. “How you?” He talks like he’s got a mouth full of dip, but it’s just his heavy Louisianan accent. I nod and exchange a few pleasantries with the legend. He’s got songs older than me and I respect him and his career a lot. I guess it’s just the three of us when ah hell no — the she-devil herself comes waltzing in late like she owns the studio. It can’t be. They wouldn’t I tell myself. I close my eyes and take a deep breath and hope that when I open my eyes she’ll be gone and just a figment of my imagination.
I slowly open one eye then another, and peek around the room. No dice she is now taking up the chair opposite of Gwen.