Chapter Ten
It wouldn’t take long for Ryan to pack. All he had to do was throw his clothes in his suitcase, grab his guitar, and hop on a bus to Seattle. Eddie had grumbled about rebooking him, saying there were barely any last-minute flights. He had to get his ass in gear if he had any hope of making that plane.
So why was he standing there, staring at his clothes?
He felt like he could still smell Claire on his pillow, still see the faint indentation her body had left on the sheets. Maybe he was making it up. Maybe he was actually losing his mind.
But it felt like her scent was all around him, as much a part of him as a shadow or a second skin he couldn’t shed. Like he’d be haunted by her perfume on the plane, in the taxi, in his apartment where she’d never set foot.
He’d barely survived getting over her five years ago. Back then, he’d told himself there was nothing he could do, as though he was helpless in his own life. As though he didn’t have a say.
Now, he knew better. Now, he wasn’t so resigned. If he let her go, if he never laid eyes on his daughter beyond a single photograph, it would be his own damn fault.
He reached for his jeans. But instead of folding them and putting them in his suitcase, he looked in the pocket for his phone.
Eddie picked up after only one ring.
“Please tell me you’re on your way to the airport,” he said without even a hello.
“Not quite.”
“But you’re about to be. Tell me, Ryan, that you’re about to be.”
He could picture Eddie standing at his desk, taking off his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb.
“Something’s come up.”
A long sigh.
“Listen, Ryan. If you don’t want to do this, if you want me to say no to restarting Little White Lie and hook you up with a less demanding gig—”
“No,” Ryan interrupted anxiously. “It’s just that there’s one more thing I have to do, and then I promise I’ll be back.”
“We’re supposed to have a meeting with the studio.”
“Tell them… I don’t know. Tell them I was hit by a bus.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Come on, I’m sure you can think of something.”
“To keep these guys interested? You’ve got to strike now, not wait around until everyone forgets about your tour. You don’t get this band back together, I guarantee you every one of those players is going to get poached by someone else. They’re with you for now, but that’s not going to last forever.”
“I’m just saying you’re good at this. I know you can think of something.”
Eddie made a frustrated noise. “It’s not personal, Ry. You gotta think like a businessman.”
“Yeah, I get it,” Ryan said, trying to find his shoes. Everything was scattered across the floor—a reminder of how he and Claire had torn each other’s clothes off last night. He was sure Eddie was saying something important. He just wasn’t entirely sure what.
“What the hell is going on up there, anyway?” Eddie asked.
Ryan opened his mouth, thinking of how to explain what had happened, from the moment the lights came up on stage to the photograph he’d seen. About how there was suddenly something in his life besides albums and tours and the size of the checks Eddie cashed for him. Something even more important than seeing his name listed again with Little White Lie.
But he didn’t want to hear Eddie’s usual pep talk about keeping his eye on the prize and making his way to the top. He didn’t want Eddie to remind him how dangerous it was for Ryan to slip backward instead of looking ahead.
“Nothing,” he said. “Just give me a few more days, okay? A week, tops. I promise I’ll be back then.”
He heard another phone ring in the background and could guess that Eddie had to go. But he didn’t pick it up.
“You’re okay, right?” he asked as the phone kept on ringing.
“Don’t you have to get that?”
“Just answer me, Ryan. Be honest.”
Ryan stopped pacing and sat on the edge of the bed. “Of course I’m okay.”
“You’d tell me, right? If there’s any problem? If there’s anything I need to know?”
“I’m fine, Ed. You worry too much. I just need a little more time.”
“We don’t have a little more time.”
“I promise I’ll get a ticket as soon as I can.”
He hung up to Eddie’s protests and finally started packing his bags. But not to head to Seattle. What he needed was another hotel—one he could actually afford.
He was still going back to Chicago, obviously.
But not until he met Maya.
Which meant not until something important between him and Claire changed.