Chapter One
Gabby
“Hey!” I say into my phone. “I didn’t expect to hear from you this early. Not that I’m complaining.” Since Jonathan’s in California and I’ve been in Texas for the last few weeks, we’ve fallen into a routine where he calls me around seven. It’s only five, though. “Couldn’t wait to talk to me, huh?”
“Good,” he answers, sounding relieved. “You haven’t seen it yet.”
I freeze halfway up the stairs on the way to my bedroom. “Uh, no. I guess not. Why? I’m guessing from your tone that whatever it is isn’t good. What haven’t I seen?”
He lets out a frustrated growl. “It’s stupid. I met my friend Charlie for lunch today, and now it’s making headlines on all the entertainment news sites. They take a billion pictures to make things look like more than what they are.”
My brows furrow together as I hurry up the rest of the stairs, going two at a time, eager to get to my bedroom and my computer to figure out what the hell he’s talking about. “Who’s Charlie? And why would lunch with him be made into something it’s not? What are they making it look like?”
He chuckles, but it’s the kind of laugh that means whatever this is, it isn’t funny. “Charlie’s a girl. You probably know her better as Charlotte James.”
Freezing again, this time with my door halfway closed, I process what he’s saying. “Oh my God, you’re friends with Charlotte James? Why haven’t you mentioned this before?”
“Because it’s not something I talk about much.”
“But I’m your girlfriend. Not just some random weirdo.”
“No, I know. I wasn’t trying to keep it from you. It’s not—We’ve known each other since Brash. We both ended up in the same sorts of lineups. She was already working with Disney when we were in talks with them. But Colt’s voice changed, so that didn’t work out.”
Sitting at my computer, I pull up the pages that have been most interested in Jonathan since that video went viral last fall. This is one of our points of conflict. Jonathan wishes I wouldn’t look at these gossip sites at all. But I can’t help myself. That’s why he’s expected me to have seen whatever he’s talking about already.
“Anyway,” he continues as I switch the phone to my left hand so I can use the mouse, “Charlie and I have stayed friends. We email every so often, and we’ll get together if she’s around when I’m in town. She’s pretty busy, so I haven’t seen her since last summer. We had lunch today, and when I hugged her goodbye, they managed to make it look like we’re kissing.”
Just as he says that, I find the picture he’s talking about. With a big headline—“Jonny B and C-James Together Again?” The article speculates about him and I having broken up or if he’s cheating on me with her. And they seem to think both options are equally understandable. Oh my God.
“Gabby, calm down. It’s not what it looks like.”
“Oh my God,” I say again, just now realizing I said it out loud before. “Oh my God.” That last one is because this particular website seems to think I’m trying for a fame grab by dating Jonathan.
“Gabby, I swear. It was a hug between old friends. Our publicists tried to make it look like we were dating when we were teenagers, but that was ages ago, and we’ve never had any chemistry. We were always just friends. She had a thing for Brendan at the time, actually, not that that ever went anywhere either. Anyway, that’s not the point. The point is, I’d never cheat on you. Ever. They find the worst angles and Photoshop what they can’t get for real. I didn’t kiss her. You have to believe me.”
I’ve only been half listening to him as I scan the article, but I finally realize he’s trying to defend himself. “I know, Jonathan. That’s not—yeah, okay, I’m not thrilled that it looks like you’re kissing some other girl. But I trust you. I know you wouldn’t do that to me.”
“Oh, thank God.”
A smile comes to my face as I imagine him deflating with relief. He’s probably been running his hand through his hair, yanking on the strands, and now his hand is finally relaxing, his posture wilting as he realizes I’m not pissed at him.
“Sorry. I was reacting to the article. They’re apparently not fans of mine and would rather see you with her.”
“Yeah, well, they can go suck a bag of dicks.”
I burst out laughing. “That’s quite a picture.”
“I wish you were here, Gabby. I miss you so much.”
“I know.” I close the tab on my browser, sitting back in my desk chair. I can’t look at that picture, that article, anymore. I’m just making myself crazy. “I miss you too.” I heave a deep sigh. “I wish there were some way to prove crap like that wrong. They think we’ve broken up. Or that you’re cheating on me. And they’re positively gleeful about that prospect. I don’t know if that says more about their low opinion of you or of me.”
He snorts. “Yeah, well, I can’t say I’m too worried about their low opinion of me. But I do worry about your opinion.” He pauses. “You know, there is one good way to convince them we’re still together.”
My eyes widen, even though he can’t see me. “Oh yeah? And how’s that?”
“You come here for the summer. Stay with me.”
I let out another deep breath. “Yeah. That would probably do the trick. It’d also make my parents lose their shit.”
“I could try talking to them. See if we can change their minds.”
I tap my fingers on my desk, thinking it over. “It couldn’t hurt. We could video chat even. If they can see you, that might help.”
“I could even fly out there and stay for a week or something before bringing you back with me. Let them get to know me in person.”
I hold my breath and consider his suggestion. This isn’t a new conversation. We’ve had some variation of it for the past three weeks since I got back. “But you have to be in the studio soon.”
“I could reschedule.”
A sad smile comes to my face. “No. You can’t. You and I both know it.”
“Fine. I’ll tell them all to fuck off and just move to Dallas for the summer. Surely there are producers there. I’ll record my own album and go indie.”
My smile grows wider, but I shake my head. “That would be silly. You already have a great contract, a great manager, a great producer, and a label that wants you so bad they’ve already bent over backwards for you. I think your manager would cut your balls off if you tried to back out of everything at this point.”
“Yeah,” he sighs. “You’re right. I know. It’s just—“
The silence stretches, both of us unable to articulate how we feel about the entire situation. We love each other, but there’s so much keeping us apart right now. And it sucks. Hard. “I know,” I whisper. “Me too.”
“Yeah.”
“Let me talk to my mom. I’ve been here a few weeks already. She might be more open to the idea now that I’m not fresh off the plane from being gone for months. Hell, maybe they’re getting tired of me already and will be happy for the excuse to get rid of me.” Riiiight. Like that’s true. Ha.
Jonathan chuckles. “Yeah, sure.” He knows that’s a load of crap as much as I do.
My parents are both protective of me as the baby of the family. Going to school two thousand miles away was hard enough on them, even though my brother did the same thing a few years ago and stayed. Him being there is the only reason they’re okay with me going to Marycliff at all. I’m not sure how they would’ve reacted if I’d picked New York or Massachusetts, since no family lives anywhere near there. I guess I’ll get to find out now.
“I’ll let you know what my mom says.”
“Okay. Tell me if there’s anything I can do to help convince them.”
“I will. I love you.”
“I love you too.”
After we hang up, I go looking for my mom. First I need to figure out something for us to do together to soften her up and cement our connection. Then I’ll hit her up about going to California for the rest of the summer. I’ll need her on my side before we approach Dad. He’s the one who’ll be the hardest to convince. Maybe I should get my sister Marissa in on it too. Three against one is even better odds, right?
I end up waiting until the next day before approaching my mom about going to California. She started selling real estate when I was in high school, and she had two showings today, one in the morning, and one in the late afternoon. Before she left this morning, I told her I’d make dinner. Part one of my plan to soften her up.
She looked surprised for a second, but said, “Okay,” and proceeded to tell me what she had planned for that night. I’ve switched it up and decided to make baked spaghetti instead. It’s a long-standing family favorite, but Mom doesn’t make it very often because, while it’s simple, it takes a while to put it all together. I’ve just layered everything in the baking dish and popped it in the oven when Mom comes home. Perfect timing.
Pouring us both a glass of sweet tea, I motion for her to join me at the table. “How did your showings go? Did your clients find anything they like?”
She takes a sip of her tea. “There’s one possibility. They’re going to talk about it and decide if they want to make an offer. It’s priced a little higher than they want to spend, but they might decide to see how motivated the seller is.”
“That’s great. I hope they get it if they like it.”
“Me too. But if not, there are always more houses for sale and lots of nice neighborhoods in the area. I’m sure we’ll find them something.” She glances from me to the kitchen, her eyes focusing on the oven timer. “What are you making, Gabby? The dinner I’d planned didn’t need to be baked.”
I lift a shoulder and sip my tea. “Baked spaghetti. I haven’t had it in a long time and thought it would be nice.”
Her gaze sharpens on me, and she looks down at her glass of tea, then at the kitchen again, before settling on me once more, a knowing look in her eye. “Making dinner, and baked spaghetti no less. And you’ve cleaned up your dishes already and loaded them into the dishwasher. And now iced tea with your mom? Something you want to talk about, Gabby?”
Shifting in my seat, I look down at my glass, running my fingers over the condensation. “Well, now that you mention it …”
“Let me guess. This is about a boy.”
I give her a wan smile. “I miss him, Mom. And he misses me. His schedule is too busy right now for him to come here. I’m not doing anything, so it makes sense for me to go there.”
“And how long do you plan to visit?” She sips her tea, but her eyes never leave my face.
I clear my throat and pull my shoulders back. “Until August.”
Mom’s eyebrows fly up. “Six weeks?”
Looking away again, I give her another casual shrug. “I was thinking until school started.”
“So your father and I would get three weeks with you? Maybe four to give us time to buy a plane ticket? And then you’d just disappear until … when? Would you come home for Christmas? Not till next summer? Maybe not even then?”
“Of course I’d come home for Christmas!” I protest. “It’s not that big of a deal. I’m nineteen. Lots of students don’t spend the full summer at home. They do summer sessions, or a study abroad trip, or … I dunno. A million things. My only plan was to practice and take lessons. I’m sure I could find a teacher in LA. It’s not like it’s the middle of nowhere.”
Mom hums, but doesn’t say anything. The silence stretches between us as she thinks. Mom’s a thinker. She likes to take her time to come to a conclusion, but once she does, changing her mind is almost impossible. I really need her to come down on my side. I want to say something, but I’m afraid that if I push too hard, she’ll tell me no.
Her dark eyes that mirror mine focus on me again, and she sets her glass down. “Say we decide we’re okay with this, your father and I. And you go to California to be with your boyfriend. Where will you stay?”
“Well,” I take another fortifying breath, “Jonathan has an apartment close to the studio where he’ll be recording. I plan on staying there. With him.”
“I see.”
One look at my mom’s face tells me she’s not going for it. So I pull out my trump card. “Lance had already moved in with Abby by this point in their relationship. They were only together for like two months before they got an apartment. Jonathan and I have been together for nine months.”
Mom gives me a look. “Your brother was twenty-two and out of school already. You’re only nineteen.”
“Abby was twenty.” I tilt my chin up, refusing to give in on this.
“I’m not Abby’s mother. And that sweet girl had to grow up far too fast anyway, bless her heart. She’s been more of a parent to her mother than the other way around.” Mom shakes her head, and I’m not sure if it’s about Abby and her family situation or about me.
But I press on. “I’m not even going to be living with him permanently. Just for the summer. And then I’ll be going back to Marycliff at the end of August, and he’ll be doing his thing. Finishing up his album. Getting ready to go on tour.”
Reaching across the table, Mom pats my arm. “I’ll think about it, Gabby. Your dad isn’t going to like this idea one bit. You know it, which is why you went to the trouble of talking to me first.” I open my mouth, but she holds up a hand to forestall my protest. “I get it, Gabby. I do. I know you think we’re old and unreasonable, but I promise, we’re really just trying to look out for you. And we’ve missed you. We already have one child who barely ever comes home. We didn’t expect to add a second one to that list so soon. You’ll have to forgive us if we aren’t leaping at the chance to send you away when you just got home a few weeks ago.”
I nod, sitting back in my chair.
Mom stands and comes around, smoothing a hand over my hair and kissing me on the forehead. “I love you, Gabby. I promise we’ll figure out a way for you to go visit him. I’m not sure it’ll be for the whole summer, and I’m definitely not thrilled with the idea of you staying in his apartment with him, but I’m sure we can spare a couple of weeks in the next month or so for you to go out there.”
Recognizing that as the best I’m going to get right now, I get up and wrap my mom in a big hug. “Thank you, Mom.”
With a chuckle, she pats me on the back. “Don’t thank me yet. We still have to convince your father.”