Page 12 of Songs for Libby

CHAPTER FOUR

As I headed to Sean’s house, I tried to carefully put away all the feelings that I associated with this day, unsure about how Sean would react to it. Maybe he’d invited me over today on purpose. He might have even requested these two days off. Knowing how this day would weigh on him increased my anxiety, but I tried to push it down as I drove up the drive, passing Will, who was stationed at the gate. I parked my car right in front of Sean’s front door and jogged up the steps, then rapped my knuckles on the door.

Sean opened the door almost immediately with a big smile, stepping forward to envelop me in a bear hug. “I’m so glad you came.” He stepped back. “Come in. Come in.”

I stepped past him and dumped my purse and shoes beside a swanky chair.

He ushered me through the entry and great room, all the way back into the kitchen before gesturing toward the table, where cartons of my favorite Chinese food sat. “As penance for my poor behavior, I thought I would provide you with sustenance.”

“Thanks,” I said as I approached the table, then looked at him with a hand on my hip. “What else you got?”

He gave me an amused but sad smile as he sank into one of the chairs that surrounded the table. “I really am sorry. And I know those words don’t mean much to you, especially coming from me, but they are true.”

I couldn’t hold his gaze and focused on opening a container instead.

“The way I’ve treated you is…”

“Horrifying?” I supplied helpfully.

“Yeah. And I don’t have an excuse, and I’m shocked every time you accept my apology, but I’m also grateful. You know my life is crazy, so I hope you also know how much it means for me to have you anchoring me.”

I did know. It was why I stayed, why I forgave him. Because the thought of abandoning him to everyone else who was vying for a piece of him made me sick to my stomach. Especially today. This day—above all others—was the one I regretted. Still, he had greeted me with a fair amount of cheer, so I had to wonder if he remembered what this day meant.

“Just so you know,” he continued, “I’ve asked Randy not to contact you anymore.”

I paused in my attempts to dump food onto my plate as I tried to absorb the information. Unfortunately, I couldn’t believe that it would actually happen that way. I looked back at him. “So then…what? Who’s he going to call instead of me? Who else is going to be able to get you out without causing a scene? We all know the record label doesn’t want more bad PR, and believe me when I tell you that you don’t listen to anyone but me when you’re hammered.”

He nodded, taking my accusations in stride. “I’m working on alternatives.”

“You could always just not get drunk,” I dead-panned.

“That’s plan A.”

I wished with everything inside me that he meant it, but I didn’t believe for a second that he did. I went back to putting food on my plate. “Well, you know I would love it if you could manage that.”

He put a hand over mine, pulling my attention back to him. “I love you. You know that, right?”

“I know. And I love you too.” I threw a fortune cookie at him. “Even when you’re an idiot.”

He caught it and grinned at me as he cracked it open. Then he pulled the slip out and cleared his throat dramatically. “Fame and fortune are on the horizon,” he read out loud.

We looked at each other before bursting into laughter.

We dug into our dinner as I pumped him for info about Atlanta. He had gone to record a collaboration with a country singer who was making the transition to pop music. So far I liked her new stuff, but I was sure that whatever she recorded with Sean would be brilliant. Everything Sean touched musically turned to gold. He was like Rumpelstiltskin—maddening and manipulative, but boy could that man make gold.

Okay, that was unfair. He certainly wasn’t the villain that Rumpelstiltskin was. It just felt that way once in a while.

We finished our food and wandered over to the couch as he asked me what was going on in my life. I gave him a few details on work and other innocuous topics. I didn’t mention Jonas. I wasn’t ready to trust him with that yet.

“You’re only here for two days?” I asked, turning the conversation back to him.

“Yeah, we have a music video shoot lined up next.”

“Ooh, I do love a good Sean Amity music video. What’s it going to be this time?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he muttered without looking at me.

“Oh no. Then it must be bad. I mean, they already did the open-white-shirt, riding-a-horse bit. They did the weird silent monk thing which, I’m sorry, made no sense since you were singing.”