Chapter Thirty-Two
Jonathan
“You’re leaving right after your concerts next weekend to go visit Gabby. You’ll spend four nights there and then fly in the same day you have to perform your next show. Do you really think that’s wise?”
I grit my teeth and sit back in my chair, surveying Colt in his position on the couch, iPad in hand to go over my schedule.
“I’m getting a private plane this time. It’s not like I’ll be faced with commercial flight delays.”
Colt’s face is impassive as he studies me. “I’m not worried about delays. I’m worried about you getting enough sleep. You don’t sleep when she’s here, and even though I know you take it easy when you visit her, flying across the country is draining. Even if it is on a private charter. And coming back and putting on a show the same night to kick off a weekend full of shows doesn’t seem like the smartest idea.”
“You’re starting to sound like Mom, you know that?”
He snorts and looks down. “Fine. Do what you want. I’m just trying to look out for you.”
I rub a hand over my face. “Sorry. I know.”
With a shake of his head, he looks at me again. “I guess I shouldn’t complain too much. You’re less of an asshole when you get to see her more often. But …” He holds his hands out, palms up, like he’s weighing something in each hand. “You overtired makes you kind of an asshole too. So it’s a balance. Don’t run yourself into the ground. You’ll make yourself sick, and I’m not playing nurse with you.”
I bark out a laugh. “Duly noted. I’ll nap on the plane, okay?”
“Fine.” He glances down at the iPad screen and taps on it, but whatever the next item on his agenda is gets interrupted by my phone ringing.
I pick it up to see Gabby’s name and picture on the screen. “That’s weird.”
“What’s that?”
Glancing at Colt, I realize I said that out loud. “Gabby’s calling. She doesn’t normally call in the middle of the day. She has a class right now.”
Colt’s brows are drawn together in concern, but I ignore him, standing to accept the call and moving into the bedroom in my suite.
“Hey, little diva. What’s up?”
She sighs into my ear. “Oh, good. I wasn’t sure if you would answer. I know I don’t usually call this early, and I didn’t know what you had going on today.”
“I always have time for you.”
“Did I interrupt something important?”
I wave a hand. “I was just meeting with Colt. We can finish later. What’s going on?”
She sighs again. “Nothing bad, really. It’s just … I have some decisions to make.”
“Oh? What kind?”
“About what I want to do.”
“What do you mean? About what?”
“Life. Apparently I have to decide the rest of my life at twenty years old.” She lets out a weird laugh.
My gut clenches. “What happened?”
“Clara told me in my lesson today that I’ve been selected to play in the pit orchestra for the opera this semester.”
“That’s good, right?”
“Yeah.” But the way she says it doesn’t sound like it’s a good thing.
“Okay.” I draw out the word. “Can you help me see what the problem is?”
“Well, some of the rehearsal and performance dates conflict with concerts I have scheduled with you.”
“Oh.” The single syllable comes out sounding disappointed before I can catch it and keep it neutral. But I plow on, hoping to salvage it. “Well, I’m sure we can reschedule those dates. People will be disappointed, but we’ll put out an announcement on Facebook and Twitter and let people know you have an unavoidable conflict. We might need to find time to lay down the tracks with you sooner than later to give fans a gift to make up for you missing shows where they’re expecting you. I’ll have Colt call that studio I used to record my demos and see if they have any openings soon. I was happy with their setup. And we could probably fly up the producer we used for my album.”
“Oh. Right. Okay.” She doesn’t sound very enthusiastic about my solutions. Maybe she’s just bummed about missing the concerts?
“The opera sounds like a good opportunity for you.”
“Yeah. It is. According to Clara, if I want to make it as an orchestral musician, I need to jump at every chance like this that comes my way.”
“Okay.” I’m careful to keep my voice soft and free from disappointment, even though on the inside I hate everything about this. But I promised myself I wouldn’t get in the way of her dreams. And I’m not going to falter now that it’s even more inconvenient. Now that she’s even more integral to my own career than I ever would’ve expected when she listened to that first song over a year ago. Closing my eyes, I force out the words. “That’s great. I’m proud of you. We’ll work it out. You playing with me is a fun bonus, not something you’re obligated to do. We can always work things around your schedule.”
“Right. Yeah. Okay. Uh, thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
She takes a deep, shuddery breath, and my brow furrows. Is she crying? But when she speaks again, her voice is steady, if still sad sounding. “I guess there’s not as much of a problem as I thought there was. I’ll, uh, I’ll let you get back to your meeting with Colt. Tell him sorry for interrupting.”
“It’s fine. Interrupt anytime. You know I’m always here for you.”
“Yeah.” This time she sounds a little more like herself.
“Good. Have a good rest of your day. Talk tonight?”
“Of course. Thanks, again. I love you.”
I swallow hard. “I love you too.”
After I hang up, I stare at my phone for a second.
I just solved the problem. Gabby said so herself.
So why does it feel like nothing’s resolved at all?