I read Linnea’s text for probably the hundredth time since I got it a few hours ago.

Linnea: My audition is done. I don’t think I’ve ever played better.

I replied right away, to tell her how proud I am. Which is the honest truth. I’m so fucking proud of her. I know how nervous she was for this audition, and I wanted her to nail it. I wanted her to feel good about her performance.

But it also sucks.

I’ve heard her play. I know how talented she is. If she played her best—if she played better than her best—there’s no way she’s not going to get this job.

There’s a knock on my door, so I put down my phone and get up to answer it. It’s Weston, holding a brown paper bag.

“What are you doing here?” I ask.

He sighs and comes in, walking past me toward the kitchen. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Get what over with?” I close the door and follow him inside.

“Don’t make it weird by talking too much.” He pulls a bottle of Maker’s Mark out of the bag and sets it on the counter. “Is Bug around?”

“No, I have to be at the hospital tonight, so she’s spending the night at Alex and Mia’s.” I watch him get glasses out of the cupboard and pour two fingers of bourbon into each. He hands one to me, then wordlessly takes his drink over to the couch. I bring mine and sit in the armchair.

He takes a sip. “Pittsburgh?”

“What, Linnea?” I ask. “Yeah, she’s in Pittsburgh.”

“Why the fuck did you let her go?”

I set my drink on the coffee table; I have to go to work soon, so I can’t drink it. “What kind of a question is that? She doesn’t belong to me. I can’t tell her what to do.”

“Can’t you?”

“No. This is her career we’re talking about,” I say. “If Kendra had some big conference to go to, would you stop her?”

“If it meant I was going to lose her, yes,” he says.

I sit back in my chair. “That’s interesting, coming from you.”

“Why, because I’ve made mistakes?” he asks. “At least with Kendra I figured shit out before it was too late.”

“This isn’t the same thing,” I say. “I didn’t get in some stupid fight with her. She had an audition with one of the best symphonies in the country. It’s what she wants to do with her life. I’ve known that from day one.”

“Don’t be a dumbass,” he says. “This isn’t about her audition.”

“Actually, that’s exactly what it’s about,” I say.

“No, it’s about your relationship with her,” he says. “Did you tell her you don’t want her to leave?”

“Of course not,” I say.

He shakes his head. “Why?”

“How could I? I can’t ask her to pass up an opportunity like that.”

“Why not?”

He’s starting to piss me off. “What is she supposed to do? Stay here? Date a guy with a kid? Fucking make me dinner every night?”

“I don’t know about dinner, but yeah,” he says.

“How is that fair to her?” I ask.

“What exactly is so wrong with what you guys had?” he asks.

“Nothing was wrong with it,” I say. “That’s not the point.”

“No, that is the point,” he says. “You seem to think that moving across the country, alone, to play with the goddamn Pittsburgh Symphony is infinitely better than her relationship with you. And with Bug.”

“She’s twenty-two years old,” I say. “How can I possibly ask her to give up on her dreams to be stuck with a family?”

Weston stares at me, his drink held loosely in his hand. “Are you kidding?”

“No.”

“Why the hell do you think giving her a family is a bad thing?” he asks. “It’s the best fucking thing in the world when all you’ve had is a shitty one.”

I open my mouth to reply, but I’ve got nothing. The enormity of what Weston just said leaves me speechless. Because I know he’s speaking from experience. Aside from his speech to Kendra at our brother’s wedding, that’s about the most heartfelt thing I’ve ever heard come out of his mouth.

Suddenly that bourbon seems like a good idea, but I leave it on the table.

“I’m the world’s most unobservant person,” he says. “Even I noticed how good you were together. That’s how obvious it was.”

“If she wanted to stay with me, she would have.”

“Did you give her a reason to?” he asks. “Or did you pack her bag and drive her to the airport?”

“I…” Fuck, I did give her a ride to the airport.

“You’re not her father,” he says.

I glare at him. “Dude, that’s creepy.”

“Then stop acting like it,” he says. “She doesn’t need you to sacrifice your happiness so she can get a good job.”

“Then what does she need me to do?”

“She needs you to be honest with her,” he says. “Don’t wall yourself off because you think it’s what’s best for her. She’s an adult. She can decide what’s best. Tell her the truth—that you fucking love her and she’s perfect for you and you should be together. Don’t hold that back because you think she’ll regret it if she stays with you. That’s her call, not yours. And you’re selling her short if you don’t think she’s capable of making her own choices.”

Fuck. How messed up is my life that Weston is telling me I have my head up my ass? “What am I supposed to do? She’s there. She had her audition and she killed it. They’re going to offer her the job.”

Weston takes another sip. “If it were me, I’d text Mia and ask her what to do.”

“Mia?” I ask. “She trips over her own feet. How will she know what to do about Linnea?”

He shrugs. “I’m just saying, she’ll know.”

I sit back in the chair and pinch the bridge of my nose. “Fuck.”

“Yep. Love will fuck you right up.” He stands and takes his glass to the kitchen. “I need to get home to my baby mama, so stop being a dumbass.”

“Yeah, thanks,” I say.

“Anytime.”

Weston leaves and I pick up my phone. I’m questioning my sanity a little bit as I bring up Mia’s number and send her a text.

Me: You have a second? I guess I need advice.

Mia: Of course. Did you know Bug loves Dr Pepper?

Me: Don’t give her that! It has caffeine.

Mia: Um… too late. But don’t worry. We’ll just keep her up until she’s tired.

Me: Please come talk to me before you have kids.

Mia: Why? So my advice is call her.

Me: I didn’t ask anything yet.

Mia: Linnea, right? Call her. Now.

I start typing another text, but Mia texts back before I finish.

Mia: Stop.

Mia: Whatever you were going to say to me doesn’t matter. Call her. Tell her.

Me: Tell her what?

Mia: Do you really need this much hand-holding? Tell her you love her and you want her to come home.

Me: Shouldn’t I wait and talk to her in person?

Mia: Do you want to take that chance?

I blow out a breath and bring up Linnea’s number. I don’t want to take that chance. Weston’s right, I should have told her how I feel. She deserves the opportunity to make this decision for herself. If she still wants to go to Pittsburgh, I’ll let her go.

Or… figure something out. Jesus, why didn’t I consider the alternatives? I can get a job anywhere. What the hell is wrong with me?

I hit call. It rings twice, but it isn’t Linnea’s voice who answers.

“Caleb?”

“Margo?” I ask. Why is Linnea’s mother answering her phone? “What’s going on? Is Linnea all right?”

“She’s fine,” Margo says.

“Okay… can I talk to her?”

“No, she’s not available at the moment,” she says.

I close my eyes and try to breathe. She has got to be kidding me. “Margo, I really need to talk to her.”

“I don’t think that’s the best thing for her right now,” she says. “You know Linnea. She’s… delicate. She needs to stay focused on her audition.”

“She already told me her audition went well,” I say. “Can you hand her the phone, please?”

“Her audition went very well,” she says. “She just got the call that they want her back for a second audition tomorrow.”

Tomorrow? She’s supposed to come back tomorrow. “That’s um, that’s great. But it doesn’t change the fact that I need to talk to her.”

“Caleb, what are you doing?” she asks.

I clear my throat. “I’m trying to call Linnea and inexplicably talking to you.”

“You know what I’m referring to,” she says. “Quite frankly, I’m shocked. If I had known you would stoop so low as to seduce my daughter, I never would have suggested she live with you in the first place. I didn’t think you were the sort of man to take advantage of an innocent young woman.”

“Take advantage?” I say. “That’s not—”

“Don’t play dumb with me,” she says. “I don’t know what it is about my daughters that makes you want to prey on them. You already ruined Melanie’s life. I am not going to allow you to do the same to Linnea.”

A searing flash of anger rips through me and it’s all I can do to keep my voice level. “I did not ruin Melanie’s life, Margo. She was my wife, and I loved her.”

“Yes, obviously,” she says. “You loved her so much, now you’re sleeping with her little sister.”

I ball my hand into a fist and grind my teeth together. “How I feel about Linnea has nothing to do with Melanie. And it’s none of your goddamn business. Put Linnea on the phone.”

“Caleb, if I have my way, and we both know that I will, Linnea will not be coming back to Seattle at all,” she says. “I’m quite certain the Pittsburgh Symphony is going to hire her, and until it’s time for her to start, she’ll be coming home to Michigan with us.”

“And you don’t give two shits about Charlotte?” I ask. “You expect Linnea to just abandon her without saying goodbye?”

“I love my granddaughter, and I’ve accepted there’s nothing I can do about the way you insist on coddling her,” she says. “But Charlotte needs to learn to handle disappointment.”

“Are you really this cold?” I ask. “How did someone like you produce a woman like Linnea? Because it’s baffling to me. Linnea can make her own decisions about where she lives. I don’t know where you get off thinking you can control her. She’s an adult, not some little puppet child.”

“Believe me, I’ll make sure she sees reason,” she says. “I won’t let her make the same mistakes Melanie did.”

God, I’m so mad I can barely think. “Put her on the phone, Margo.”

“I think we’re done here.”

Click.

“Fuck!” I throw my phone across the room and it hits the wall with a loud crunch. “Goddamn it.”

I run my hands through my hair, clenching my teeth. My back is rigid with tension and I’m so mad I can hardly see straight. She hasn’t made me this angry since she was threatening to try to get custody of Charlotte. What the fuck is wrong with her?

This is a fucking disaster. There’s a dent in the wall where my phone hit, and my phone itself is fucked. The screen is ruined and no matter how many times I press the power button, it won’t turn on.

God, why did I do that?

I toss it on the table and go upstairs to change. I don’t have time to get a new one. I have an overnight shift and who knows if I’ll have time tomorrow.

What a shit-show.

And the worst part is, I have to tell Charlotte that Linnea isn’t coming tomorrow.