Chapter Nineteen
Jonathan
“Oh! I didn’t expect you to be here.”
I look up from my phone to see my mom coming into the kitchen. Giving her a smile, I set my phone down, crossing one ankle over the opposite knee. “Just had some lunch. Don’t worry. I’ll put my dirty plate in the dishwasher.”
She waves a hand, as though that’s not important to her. Ha. That was one of the rules growing up once we got old enough to do it.
“Where’s Gabby?”
“Having a violin lesson.”
Mom’s eyebrows shoot up. “I didn’t realize she’d found a teacher here.”
“One of the other violinists playing the gigs with her offered to take her on as a student for the summer.”
Humming thoughtfully, Mom pulls out the chair across from me and sits down. “I’m surprised you came back here, though. Instead of your place.”
I shrug. “Officially, I’m living here until August, aren’t I?”
She chuckles. “Are you? You haven’t spent very many nights here lately. Unless you’re sneaking in even later than normal?” Her eyebrows go up again, this time inviting an answer.
Shaking my head, I put my foot back down on the floor. “It’s easier to just stay there.”
“Hmm. Well, I don’t feel comfortable lying to her parents.”
“Have they called here?”
“No.” She looks down at the table, brushing away imaginary crumbs. “But I was under the impression that one of the conditions of Gabby being here is that you don’t stay together.”
At my sound of frustration, she looks up, holding her hands palms up. “I’m not trying to meddle. Just pointing out that lying to a girl’s parents isn’t the best way to endear yourself.”
“We’re not lying. I’ve stayed over a couple of nights this week. It’s not like I’ve moved back in.”
“If you say so.”
I have to hold back a growl of frustration at her I’m-right-but-I’m-not-going-to-argue-with-you-about-it tone. “Mom,” I start, but she holds up her hands again.
“I just want you to think about what you’re doing, Jonathan. That’s all I’m saying. How’s the album coming?”
Blinking at the quick change of subject, I clear my throat. “Good. I have a photo shoot coming up for the cover art. And I did that interview for Billboard last week.”
“Oh? Did your relationship with Gabby come up?”
“Yes.” I draw the word out, trying to figure out what she might be getting at.
“And what did you say?”
My brows come together. “That we’re in a committed relationship, and any speculation about me with anyone else is just that—unfounded speculation.”
“So they asked about Charlie.”
“They always do. Ever since our publicists made it look like we were together when we were teenagers. The media drools over the ‘childhood romance all grown up’ angle. But you know as well as I do that it was never a teenage romance. It was all for show. We’re friends, just like we always have been. Never anything more.”
Mom sighs. “Which I’ve always thought was too bad. She’d be good for your career.”
“Mom.” I infuse my tone with warning.
“I’m just saying.”
With a sigh, I stand. “Gabby’s good for my career. She helps me write. Which is the thing that people are excited about, remember? Charlie and I may look good together in pictures, and while I love Charlie, I’m in love with Gabby. I don’t know why I have to explain this to you. Still. After all this time.”
“All this time? Really? You’ve been with Gabby for five minutes.”
“And I was never actually with Charlie. Did you buy into the lie you helped spin for the press? Aren’t you the one that always cautioned us not to believe the articles, the speculation? To be careful when we answered questions—to always plan out what we needed to say or keep our mouths shut?”
She stands too, leaning across the table. “That’s exactly my point. The interview you gave? That won’t run until after Gabby’s back in school. Are you going to call and ask them to change that or leave it out if things go south once you’re apart?”
Shaking my head, I cross my arms. “Jeez, Mom. Thanks for your vote of confidence.”
“I just want you to think about how this will affect your futures. Be careful. For both your sakes.”
“I thought you promised to give Gabby a chance. I’m in love with her, Mom. That’s not going to change. Not even when she’s back at school, and I’m going on tour. I want you to get to know her. For her. Instead of judging her for how she might help or hinder my career. And for the record, she helps it. One hundred percent. I wouldn’t have a career right now without her.”
Her nostrils flare, and I know she wants to spit something back right now, but she keeps her mouth clamped shut as we stare each other down. Finally, her posture relaxes, her spine losing its stiffness, her shoulders dropping to a more natural position. “Fine,” she says, and I’m a little surprised at how easily she’s backing down.
“Fine?”
“Fine. I’ll give her a chance. Get to know her. Bring her around for another dinner. I’d like to spend more time with her. Maybe she and I can go have lunch, just the two of us, before she leaves.”
I relax too, letting my arms drop to my sides. “Oh, yeah. Okay. We can do that. When do you want us to come over?”
“How about next weekend?”
I nod. It’s still jerky, the adrenaline from our showdown still pumping through my system. “Sure. We can do that.”
“We’ll look forward to it then.”
I watch her leave before rinsing my plate and setting it carefully in the dishwasher, rather than slamming it in like part of me wants to do. With my hands braced on the counter, I take a few deep breaths, calming myself. Letting the oxygen scrub the stress hormones from my bloodstream.
I don’t know how serious she is about what she said, wanting to get to know Gabby. But I want to believe her. She said she’d give her a chance. That’s all I can ask.