AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Chapter Fourteen
Celeste and Val caught a late flight back to LA, and their leaving made Remy feel every bit as uneven as their arrival had. He waved as their ride service pulled off, then he poked around the buses for a while, trying to fill the moments until he became tired enough to justify going to sleep. David and Michael were visiting local friends, Parish and Laurel had vanished together, Ro was on the phone…everyone was busy with someone or something.
So Remy went to Vivi’s bus.
He wasn’t entirely sure when he made the decision to go—his feet seemed to take him there of their own accord. As he walked, he reminded himself that he couldn’t just drop in on Vivi Swan without warning—but he didn’t stop. Lights were on inside her bus, and he was surprised and pleased when the security team hovering around didn’t stop him from knocking gently—
The door swung open, so fast and hard that it clacked against the back wall. Remy’s eyes widened. Vivi was standing in front of him, and while her lipstick was flawless, her mascara was heavy around her eyes. Crying, Remy realized. She’d been crying, and not in that just-writing-a-song way this time. Upon seeing Remy, Vivi took three fast, shallow breaths then forced her lips into a smile.
“Let’s just talk later, okay?” she said quickly, and Remy realized she was on the phone. She turned and dropped her voice, though it did little to keep Remy from hearing her say, “Tuesday, please. Later.”
Then she lowered the phone and, as she turned around, hit a button that dimmed the lights, casting her face into enough shadow that it hid the tearstains.
“Uh, sorry,” Remy said quickly. “I shouldn’t have come unannounced. I should have texted or…I don’t know. Something. We’ll talk later.” He was already backing away, holding his hands up as if she were a wild animal.
“No, no, it’s okay!” Vivi said, voice a little high. She smoothed her hair. “It’s fine, seriously. Anyway. What did you need?”
“Um,” Remy said, cycling through his thoughts, his excuses, his justifications. What did he need, exactly? Vivi watched him from the near-darkness, waiting. He took a long breath, puffed his cheeks out as he answered, “I figured you’d be watchingHouse Hunters. Thought I’d come watch with you. But if you’re busy, I can…go.”
Vivi didn’t react for a second too long—long enough for Remy to hate himself and every word he’d ever uttered. But then she smiled, her teeth glinting in the pale light. “See? That show gets under your skin,” she said. “Give me a minute to change?” she asked. Remy nodded, and she stepped away from the door, leaving it open for him. By the time he boarded the bus, she’d run into the back rooms. Without a laptop to busy his hands, he reorganized her sugar packets.
When Vivi reemerged, her makeup was tidied and polished, her hair neat, and she had changed into something that looked moderately comfortable but stylish enough to be in a magazine—burgundy fitted jeans and a striped shirt. She’d even put on a necklace that matched the entire thing, as if she were dressing for a day out rather than watchingHouse Hunters.
“Did your brother like the show?” she asked, voice a bit clipped as she opened the fridge then ducked her head down to riffle through it.
“He did. It’s very different than anything we ever did. Not just the size of the audience, just the show altogether.”
“He’s not a fan of pop music,” Vivi said, rising with a bottle of water in her hand. She smiled, teasing the answer from him.
“He’s not,” Remy admitted.
“People are afraid of what they don’t understand,” Vivi said. “Especially when so many peopledounderstand it.”
Remy frowned, and Vivi’s face faltered, concerned she’d offended him. “No, no—that was just…that was a great way of putting it,” he assured her.
“Thanks. It’s like that in country music too—people don’t like me because I started in country, but now I’m more pop…but they still play me on country stations. There are whole websites devoted to menotbeing a country artist anymore, like it’s something that needs to be proven,” she said then sat by him on the couch. She was unbearably close, close enough that when she pulled her legs up and crossed them, her knees brushed his thigh. She took the remote and flicked through the television channels, stopping immediately when the show popped up.
“Have you seen this one?” Remy asked after grounding himself. He leaned back a little, forced his spine to relax, an action that drove her knee farther into him.
“I think so,” Vivi said. “They pick the good house. It’s not the nicest-looking one, but you can tell it’s the one they’ll be happiest in. Like, it’s the sort of place you know they’ll live in for ages and put kids’ growth charts on the wall and…all that sort of stuff.”
They sat quietly on the tour bus for a while, watching the house hunters prowling around mansions on exotic islands, but there was something heavy settling over them, a drowsiness or a loneliness or a sigh. The couple had nearly chosen a house when Remy felt the slow, gentle touch of her hand sliding over his. Her fingers were warm and light, and she closed the tips over the top of his hand delicately. He felt the corner of his mouth pulling into a smile he couldn’t resist, then, carefully, turned his hand over so their palms were touching and wrapped his fingers around her hand. He waited, worried she’d pull away, but she didn’t. She didn’t move, save to exhale a breath that sounded like she’d been holding it for some time.
They sat there silently for so long that the sparking, electrical feeling between their palms faded into a steady buzz that wasn’t shocking so much as comforting. Remy caught himself running his thumb over the ridge of her knuckles, counting the spaces between them, memorizing the geography of her hands. She settled her hand deeper into his.
“I just feel like I’m losing her,” Vivi said quietly.
Remy didn’t speak for a few long breaths—it felt like she’d perhaps said that by mistake, and his responding might startle her away. Finally, though, he asked, “Tuesday, you mean?”
She nodded. “She never would have bailed on me like this before. But the longer she’s with Nick, the worse it’s gotten, and it’s like—it’s like being with Nick is who she is, now. She’s Nick Maddon’s girlfriend. Professionally, personally, emotionally…but it’s not like I can make her choices for her. Maybe we’re just growing apart and we’re driving each other crazy trying to hang on. I don’t know. It’s stupid. Forget I said anything, actually.” She turned back to the TV and stared, eyes too focused on the screen.
Remy inhaled and spoke, voice low. “My brother is…he’s writing a song. Without me.”
Vivi unlocked her gaze, looked to him. “Oh?”
“And I’m working with you and not him. He and I talked about it tonight, and it’s weird. I feel like I’m losing him but also like he’s…better. Like it’s good for him. And I hate that and then feel shitty that I hate it.”
Vivi smiled the tiniest bit. “I think there’s a pretty distinct possibility that you and I are just really worried about being left behind by the people we love.”
