My stomach wrenched. Shit was bad, but arguing about it all the time wasn’t doing anything productive other than driving a wedge between us.
I moved into her, wrapping her in a hug, and kissed the top of her head. I didn’t let her stiffness faze me. “I’m not going to let them turn the water off. Or the power. Or anything else you can think of.”
“How?” she croaked, her lack of faith as insulting as it was justified.
I sucked in a deep breath, my chest filling painfully. Dammit. It was time. I couldn’t put it off any longer. Not for pride. Not for what-ifs. Not for all the “maybe one days” in the world. It was our only way out. I was a father and a husband who had responsibilities that didn’t involve chasing a dream.
“I’m gonna pull apart the album,” I whispered.
“Eason,” she gasped, tipping her head back and resting her chin on my pec. So much fucking happiness danced in her eyes that it felt like a knife to the gut.
The spotlight was out of my reach, but I knew how to sell music. Songwriting was where I’d gotten my start. It had paid for our first date, Jessica’s engagement ring, and the down payment on our house. Currently, my dwindling royalties were paying our bills—when we paid them. The first time I’d heard one of my songs on the radio, I’d called everyone I knew, simultaneously laughing and fighting back emotion. I was proud of my accomplishments, but the ultimate goal had always been for me to not only write incredible music, but also be the voice on the radio performing it.
With my signature mix of laid-back pop and soul, Solstice in the ’92 was supposed to be my ticket to the top of the charts. Thirteen songs I’d poured my heart and soul into, each one representing a different stage in my life from growing up without a dad to my party days as a bachelor, all the way to the birth of my daughter. They were bold. They were raw. They were Eason Maxwell. Selling them off was going to feel like being ripped limb from limb.
But they would pay the bills.
Maybe even permanently bring back the light in my wife’s eyes, the spark in our marriage, and allow me to keep my family together. There was nothing I wouldn’t sacrifice—hopes and dreams included—to be the man Jessica and Luna deserved.
For that reason alone, I managed a smile as I stared down at her. “It’s the right thing to do, babe. For you. For Luna. Hell, maybe even for me. A fresh start can’t hurt, right?”
She circled her arms around my neck—the first physical contact she’d initiated in weeks. “How long do you think it will take to shop them around?”
“Hard to say, but I’ll make some calls first thing on Monday.”
She let out a giggle that momentarily quelled the burning in my throat. “‘Turning Pages’ is incredible. I bet someone huge snatches it up.”
Great, just what I’d always wanted: an egocentric prima donna singing about my tumultuous relationship with my narcissistic mother.
I shot her another tight smile. “That would be amazing.”
Her voice had a renewed levity I hadn’t heard in months. “We should celebrate. Grab a bottle of champagne while you’re out.” She paused. “Actually, never mind. I’ll ask Bree. She’ll bring the good stuff.”
Oh, of course. I’d ripped my heart out and set it at my wife’s feet, but it would be Bree who’d save the day.
It was salt in the wound, but like so much of my marriage, I just kept right on smiling. “Sounds great.”
BREE
“He’s selling ’92?” I whispered with utter shock into the phone.
Jessica blew out an exasperated breath on the other end of the line. “Well, he said he was. The real question will be if he actually follows through.”
I peeked around the corner of the kitchen to make sure Rob wasn’t within earshot. My husband hated when Jessica and I talked about his closest friend. Rob always thought we were ganging up on the poor guy, but it was literally at the very top of my best friend job description to make sure Eason was taking care of my girl. My concern was more than warranted. For the last few years, he had been failing in spectacular fashion at that task.
When I was sure Rob was still in the garage, probably whispering sweet nothings to his precious Porsche, I walked back to the oven to check on dinner for the kids. “But he brought up selling the album all on his own this time, right? That has to mean something.”
She scoffed. “Yeah, it means he’s sick of sleeping on the couch and not getting laid.”
“Well, whatever the case. As long as it ends with you and Luna not being homeless, I’m good with it.” I paused and chewed on my bottom lip. “You know if you need anything until he’s able to sell—”
“Nope. Don’t even start with that crap. This is not your problem.”
I let out a sigh. Jessica and I had been friends since our college waitressing days. She was stubborn, hard-headed, and so damn full of pride that she wouldn’t accept a helping hand even if she was flat on her ass. Which wasn’t too far from her current situation.
“Jess, stop. Just let me give you a little—”
“Champagne,” she finished for me. “The only thing I’m accepting from you is champagne. We’re celebrating tonight.”
“This is technically the first time I’ve been away from the kids since Madison was born.”
“Wow. Your first outing is to my crappy living room. What a lucky girl.”
“Hey, I’m just happy to get a night out that doesn’t involve a diaper bag.” This wasn’t totally true. I’d been stressing about leaving the kids all week.
It drove Rob crazy that I’d been shutting down date night after date night for almost ten months. We had a great sitter in our neighbor, Evelyn. She was crazy sweet and patient, with four teenage boys of her own. Rob and I both trusted her with Asher, but Madison was different. She had been a preemie who spent over a month in the NICU. At ten months old, she was thriving, but in my eyes, she would always be that tiny three-and-a-half-pound baby covered in wires and struggling to breathe.
It was time though. Mentally and emotionally, this mama needed a break.
“I’m calling bullshit.” Jessica laughed. “You’ve been pacing the house all day, haven’t you?”
I peeked out of my kitchen window for the sixth time in so many minutes to check on Evelyn and Madison playing on a blanket in the grass. “What? No. I haven’t.”
“Liar.”
Movement at the door to the garage caught my attention. Rob’s deep-brown eyes immediately found mine, and a mischievous smile grew across his face. It was the way he always looked at me—rapt and awestruck.
My cheeks heated as he prowled toward me, his gaze sliding down my body, lingering in all the right places.
“Jess, I need to go.”
“Fine, but Eason should be there any minute to drop off Luna. Chances are Rob already knows about the album, but don’t mention to either of them that I told you.”
“Mmhm,” I hummed, biting my lips. My husband’s muscular body swayed as he made his predatory advance. “See you tonight.” I didn’t say goodbye before hitting the end button.
Rob plucked the phone from my hand and set it on the counter, hooking one arm around my hips to draw me close. “Wow,” he whispered, his breath ghosting across my lips. “You look gorgeous.”