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Vivi nodded, but a flicker of guilt crossed her face—she hadn’t considered this. “Well. If I’d remembered, we could have handled it all before now. I just can’t believe I forgot,” Vivi said, shaking her head like she’d let herself down. She began to cream and sugar her coffee, doing so with such intention that she looked like a scientist.
“When?” Remy asked.
“What?”
“When would you have asked me to stay for the whole tour?” Remy asked, voice dropping a bit. This felt important. When did she…want him there?
Vivi started to speak then paused, thinking through her answer. She lifted her coffee mug and sat back, rolling it back and forth on her palms. “I don’t know,” she said, which was a lie, Remy could tell—and it must have been obvious, because she took a breath and said, “After that phone call. The one when we were working on the song and you fell asleep.”
“Really?” Remy asked, a smile playing at his lips.
“Yeah,” Vivi answered, voice smaller than normal. “Do you know the last time I’ve had one of those phone calls? Where they last for hours? Probably…god, probably sixth grade.”
“So I get the nostalgia vote,” he said.
“I didn’t know there was anyone I wanted to talk to for that long,” she said, and it was so sincere that the clever smile on Remy’s face over his nostalgia-vote comment instantly faded. Vivi lifted her eyes to his. “Didyouremember you were leaving?”
“Of course.”
Vivi’s brows knitted again, that wrinkle reappearing. “Do younotwant to go to Europe? Is that it?”
“Of course I want to go to Europe with you,” Remy said, instantly regretting the fact that those last two words—with you—had made it from his brain to his mouth.
Vivi noticed them and shook her head, eyes hurt but voice tense—angry, almost. “I can’t believe you didn’t say anything. We could’ve set it all up!”
Remy felt a jerk in his stomach at the prospect. Vivi didn’t see why he would remember something like this and she wouldn’t, and she didn’t see why he could never have just asked. It seemed unbelievable to him that he had to explain—that despite how real Vivi was, she still had these starlet tendencies underneath. The realization was somewhat disappointing.
Remy half laughed. “Vivi, I can’t just tell my boss I want her to fire her drummer so she and I can hang out more.”
Vivi looked like he’d slapped her—her face long, mouth open, eyes wide. “Your boss,” she said.
“Yes, Vivi, my boss,” Remy repeated, lifting his hands in surrender. It didn’t remedy her expression, so he spoke quickly. “I don’t mean—it’s not a bad thing. But I can’t just ask for a favor because we watchHouse Huntersand go out for breakfast and work on a song in between all that.”
“Of course you can! This whole damn industry runs on favors,” Vivi said, almost yelling but not quite.
“But I wouldn’t be with you as someone from the industry. I’d be with you as…”
And then he stopped, because he wasn’t even sure what the word was.Be with you as… The end of the sentence hung in the air around them, pushing their hearts deeper and deeper into their bodies.
“I wanted to keep it professional,” Remy said, slowly, carefully. “Or at least I wanted to try. I didn’t want to assume anything or for you to think I was just using you for a trip or a gig or…you have Noel and…I just wanted to be professional.” He wasn’t entirely sure if he was saying this to convince Vivi or to convince himself.
“Fine,” Vivi said. “It’s fine.”
