Chelsea

I’m not sure I ever really managed to sleep last night with my phone ringing constantly. I don’t know who leaked my number, but every reporter and blogger and industry person is calling for the juicy gossip. And even when no one’s bothering me, my phone’s still blowing up with notifications from all the news outlets reporting our split.

Yeah. In less than twelve hours, the whole world has found out that Ian and I are through. And somehow everyone knows that our brief affair is over because he’s using again. Every time I see it in writing, tears swim in front of my eyes and I’m crying again. Until eventually I’m out of tears and my head hurts and I’m exhausted, but I can’t stop thinking about how wrong everything went.

I turned the sound off my phone first. Then I had to turn the vibration off. And then, when the notification light was flashing like a freaking lighthouse in the dark, I turned the whole damn thing off and shoved it in my bag. This is why I have Rosa and PR people. They can handle this mess.

That thought just makes me cringe though, because I know Rosa’s got to be feeling pretty smug with “I told you so” satisfaction. She warned me about this. She told me not to get in too deep, but I wouldn’t listen. And look where it got me.

I’m still lying in bed, trying to force myself to sleep when the sun comes up. And I keep lying there well into the morning until there’s a knock on the door. I groan and roll over, ignoring it. Whoever is here can just get the hell out.

“It’s me, and I have a key,” Rosa says. I groan again and pull the blankets up over my head. I don’t need her to see me like this. I probably look awful. I know I feel awful.

It’s not fair that I can’t run away or tell her to leave. She swipes the key card over the door and I hear the lock click open before the knob turns.

But I’m not coming out of my blanket cocoon and she can’t make me.

I can hear her footsteps across the plush carpet and then she sits on the bed with me, making the mattress sag toward her.

“Hey,” she says gently. “How are you feeling?”

I shrug, but with the blanket over me, I don’t know if she can tell what the gesture is.

“Well, I’ve got some news you might like to hear…”

I really doubt it. There’s nothing that can make me feel better right now. Nothing that could possibly ease this pain in my chest. The one that’s making it hard to breathe, hard to think without nearly falling into tears again.

“Chelsea, will you at least look at me?”

“You don’t wanna see me,” I mutter, burying my head in the pillow. Rosa’s been with me a long time. She’s seen the ups and downs. She’s seen me at my absolute worst and my absolute best. But still, something about this time makes me just want to be left alone.

She sighs and pats the pillow. I’m sure she’s aiming for my head, but there’s no way to know where I am from her perspective.

“I talked to the label and they’re going to go ahead and cancel the last four shows. The record’s still going to be released and all the proceeds are still going to charity, but at this time, they feel like the best course is to just let this partnership fade out of the limelight for now. Let the heat die off and then we’ll start working on another solo album.”

My stomach turns at the thought of being in the studio again without Ian. It just seems wrong. The idea of going out on stage alone seems so lonely.

And I know I should be happy that the tour’s over. I was already dreading having to force myself to go out on stage with him and act like everything’s all right in front of the fans. But I’m still disappointed. There’s a part of me that wants to cry even harder for the loss of our amazing music, for those shows we’ll never get to put on. The memories that will never be made.

“Okay,” is all I say. Maybe with some distance, the solo thing won’t sound so bad. I’m not going to make any rash decisions today.

Rosa sighs and sits there in silence for a long time. I know she’s trying to find the exact right thing to say to make me perky and performance-ready again. That’s what she does. That’s all she’s ever able to focus on. But I can’t blame her obviously. It’s her job to do it.

“There’s something else,” she says hesitantly, and now I fling the blanket over my head and give her a look. Because that tone is one I know well and I know she’s going to tell me something I really don’t want to hear.

“What?”

“Well, we’re flying out tonight, but I couldn’t get us a separate plane.”

The air in my lungs turns to lead and I can’t think, let alone breathe.

“What?” I say again, parroting myself even though I heard her perfectly well. I heard her. I just don’t understand. “Why not book something commercial?” It’s not something I’d typically want to do, but if it means I get to avoid facing Ian again, I can deal with the airport madness.

Rosa shakes her head, looking at me with pity in her eyes. “That wouldn’t be a good idea. Not with all the attention you’re getting right now. Having you out in the open in public is only going to make things worse.”

“Ugh.” I bury my face in my hands and groan. “Fine.” There’s no use in fighting it. She’s right. I just have to suck it up and fly with Ian. I’ll just put my headphones in and stare out the window the whole time. Or maybe Rosa still has those sleeping pills I used on the international tour to combat jet lag. Sleeping through the whole ordeal sounds like a great idea.

Rosa gives me a sad smile and claps me on the shoulder. “It’ll be all right. I’ll be there to run interference if needed.”

“Thanks, Rosa,” I say, leaning into her as she wraps an arm around my shoulder. Rosa’s not just my manager. While I’m on the road, she’s kind of my mom too. And since she’s been with me since I was a kid, I think the feeling’s mutual. Which is why we butt heads so much I guess, but I’m always glad for her support.

We sit like that for a little while longer and then finally she rubs my arm and pulls away. “Why don’t you have a nice long shower before you pack your things. We’ve got plenty of time until we need to be at the airport, so get yourself together and prepare.”

“Yeah, okay,” I say, finally sitting up in bed. I know she’s right. At the very least, when I get on that plane, I don’t want to look as terrible as I feel right now. I don’t want Ian to know how much his betrayal affected me. Mostly because I don’t really want to admit it to myself.

I told myself I shouldn’t get involved with him. And then I told myself it was just fun. And then I told myself I liked him, but it wouldn’t last forever. And then there was nothing left to tell myself because I knew I was falling for him and I couldn’t stop myself. It was too late. And now he did exactly the thing I was so afraid he would do.

I wish I could believe him when he said it wasn’t his, but I remember all too well Eric giving me that same story. Coming out of rehab the model patient, everyone so excited and happy for his new lease on life. And then the next thing I knew, he was dead. And thinking about Ian cold and gray in a coffin is more than I can bear. If Ian wants to kill himself, he can do it without me around. I can’t go through that again.

Rosa heads out and I venture into the shower, standing under the hot stream of water long enough that I lose track of time. It’s an hour later when I’m stepping out and toweling off. It doesn’t take long for me to get dressed or pack the few things I’ve taken out of my bag—I haven’t exactly been spending much time in my room during this tour—and then there’s nothing left for me to do but flip through TV channels, trying to force myself to get interested in a show about garden makeovers to take my mind off of how much I miss Ian right now. It doesn’t really work.