THAT EVENING, we’re at a Mexican restaurant a few blocks from the apartment, sharing chips and guacamole. Christmas is coming up in a few weeks, and gaudy holiday decorations are strewn around the space.
“We should find out when Daisy’s birthday is,” I say between sips of my margarita.
“She’s a rescue, so she probably doesn’t have an official birthday.”
My heart sinks. “Everyone should have a birthday.”
His gaze rakes over my face, so soft and gentle I can almost feel it. “You’re right. It’s unacceptable.” He pulls his phone out and frowns at his calendar app. “Mid-January? We can have a party.”
“A party? You want to have a party.”
His eyes spark. “Only if you’re there.”
“Oh, I’ll be there. You know you have to wear a dog costume, though, right?”
He rolls his eyes, and I laugh.
“There’s something I want to ask you.” Hesitation passes over his features as he glances at me. “There’s a charity gala at the end of January, and the team is expected to go. It’s in Whistler.”
I love Whistler, and I haven’t been in years, probably since Hazel and I were teenagers.
“Okay.” I lick the salt rim of my drink before taking a sip. “I’ll watch Daisy for the weekend.” The marketing job isn’t supposed to start until February at the earliest. If I get it, that is.
His gaze drops to my mouth, flashing with heat. I think about last night, how hot it was as he towered over me while Rory waited on the other side of the door. The way his eyes darkened with possessiveness as his fingers pressed inside me.
We can’t do it again, but that doesn’t mean I can’t think about it.
“No, uh.” He looks away from my mouth, blinking. “I want you to come with me. As my assistant.”
“No problem.” My voice sounds happy and chipper, but inside, I deflate a little. I shouldn’t, because we both know we can’t be anything more than this, but a little part of me popped when he said as my assistant.
“I’ll book us a suite and take care of getting a dress for you,” he adds.
“Great.” I finish my drink, and as the server passes behind Jamie, I gesture for another.
The conversation drifts toward the upcoming holidays. For the week between Christmas and New Year’s, I’m visiting my parents in Silver Falls, the small town in the interior of British Columbia they relocated to for retirement.
I’ve been trying to think of a Christmas gift for Jamie, but he’s impossible to buy for.
“Are we going to talk about the interview?” he asks, cutting through my thoughts.
I suck in a sharp breath as my stomach churns. “It was fine.”
His eyebrow goes up, and I feel the weight of his gaze as I look away, glancing around the restaurant—at the multi-colored bottles behind the counter, the backsplash tiles behind the bar, the other tables, anywhere but his eyes.
I’m finally ready to admit it—when I picture myself at the marketing job, a little piece of me dies.
“Pippa,” he says, and my resolve crumbles.
“It went well.” My mouth is dry.
Jamie stares at me, waiting.
“I’m probably going to get it,” I say to the ice in my glass.
“You say it like it’s a bad thing.”
I flatten my lips, dragging in a breath, and I’m quiet because I have no fucking clue what to say. It feels like a bad thing.
“Songbird.”
Another chunk of my resolve falls away, and I wish he wouldn’t call me that, because I like it too much. It’s impossible to pretend with him when he calls me that.
He shakes his head. “You don’t want that job, Pippa. Admit it.”
“Fine,” I burst out, and I feel like I’m about to barf. “I don’t want the job. My parents make it sound safe, but…” I pinch my bottom lip between my teeth. What I’m about to say sounds so stupid.
Jamie’s eyes are bright. “Safe is boring.”
The breath whooshes out of me. “Exactly.”
He studies me for a long moment before his expression softens. “Good.”
“Good?” I lean forward, giving him a bemused look. “Are you listening? This is a fucking disaster, Jamie.”
His eyes are steady on my face. “It’s not a disaster.”
Everything my parents worked so hard for, down the drain. All the things they scrimped on so they could afford for me to go to university, all the high hopes they have for me, down the drain. I think about my mom teaching ballet classes, a daily reminder that she failed to make it to the professional level.
Failure hurts, she once said to me.
Jamie leans forward, searching my gaze. I feel the urge to climb into his lap and cling to him like a koala, burying my face in his neck and inhaling him. That’s the only thing that’ll make me feel better right now.
“What about music?” he asks softly.
“What about it?” My heart beats hard, and just saying the words hurts. They feel insincere. They feel cruel and like a betrayal of myself, which makes no sense, because it was never an option anyway.
You don’t have it, Zach told me.
Anger grows inside me, and my fists clench. What if I do, though? The desire to take control, to stop being this girl that things happen to, wraps around my throat and squeezes.
“You have the drive, Pippa.” His tone has a frustrated bite to it, and his gaze pins me. “You’re so fucking talented, and the only person who doesn’t see this is you.”
I roll my eyes with a bitter laugh. “Zach didn’t see it.”
“He saw it,” Jamie spits out. “He definitely saw it.”
Our surroundings fall away as our gazes lock. I see everything in his deep green eyes; I see that he wants this for me, that he hates what Zach did to me, and that he’s furious that my parents have this unknowing influence on me.
“What about my parents?”
His jaw tenses like he’s upset. “What about you?”
My eyes close for a brief moment. I picture their disappointment, and I feel like I’m crumbling. “It’ll kill them.”
His eyes ignite, focused and furious. It’s the same look I’ve seen on game recaps, in close-ups of his face at the height of action. “They love you, and they’ll get over it.” He says it like a threat, like he’ll make sure it works out like that, and my heart beats harder. “Do you know how many people told me I wouldn’t make it?” His brow furrows with frustration. “Just ask Owens, or Miller, any other professional athlete. Anyone who has done anything bold has naysayers. Shut out those voices. The only opinion that matters is yours.”
“Your opinion matters to me,” I say, truthfully.
His nostrils flare. “Well, I know you can do it, so why don’t you listen to me?”
I want to believe him. I think I might, too. I don’t know if I’m ready to fail hard at something that matters, but there’s a tiny, stubborn part of myself that isn’t ready to give up yet.
When Jamie says things like I know you can do it, that stubborn part thrives. Across the table, he’s studying me with a serious expression, and my heart tugs.
Jamie is so kind. I wish everyone else knew this side of him. I wonder if his ex ever saw it.
“What happened with you and Erin?” I ask softly. It’s none of my business, but I’m curious. He said he only does casual, and I wonder if it has anything to do with her. It must.
He blinks and tears his gaze away.
“You don’t have to tell me,” I rush out. “If it’s personal.”
“No.” He frowns. “It’s fine. It’s personal, but—” He looks across the table at me, really looks at me, and in this moment, I feel like we’re so much more than we are. “I want to tell you. I’ve wanted to tell you for a while, but I wasn’t sure how.” He folds his arms over his chest. “She thought she was pregnant.”
My heart stops. “You were nineteen.”
“Yeah.” His throat works. “It was my rookie year, and her career was just taking off.” He glances at me. “She was a model.”
I nod, not wanting to disclose how much I’ve Googled her.
“Her period was two weeks late, and when she told me she might be pregnant, she looked so happy.” He sucks a breath in as guilt moves over his features. “I was freaking out.”
“Of course.” I can’t even imagine being pregnant at nineteen. I’d be terrified.
“Whenever I had time off, I’d fly home to visit my mom.” His stare goes unfocused, like he’s back there in his memories. “I thought things between me and Erin were casual, but she thought we were more.”
“What happened?”
He lets out a long sigh. “She wasn’t pregnant, but after she saw my face when she thought she was, it was different. We broke up.” His gaze lifts to mine, so full of regret and worry. “And I saw online a week later that she left modeling. She had all these contracts for Fashion Week and she pulled out. She had a really promising career and walked away, and I know it was because of me.” He shakes his head. “I fucking crushed her, Pippa.”
My heart aches for Jamie, because I can see how torn he still is about this. “Jamie.” Our gazes meet, and I give him a soft smile. “That’s a lot of blame to put on yourself. People go through breakups all the time.”
“Zach dumped you and squashed your confidence.”
My lips part and I blink, scrambling to defend myself, but he’s right.
“I can’t do that again,” he says.
This is why he doesn’t do relationships. The realization makes me so sad. Jamie’s been beating himself up about this for years.
“Maybe Zach broke my heart and told me I wasn’t good enough to make music my career, but that doesn’t mean I believe him. I did, but I don’t know if I still do.” I offer him a small smile. “And you have a lot to do with that. Did you ever talk to Erin about what happened?”
He studies me for a long moment. “No.”
The song in the restaurant changes, and my thoughts screech to a halt as I listen to Zach sing the opening lyrics. My stomach drops through the floor.
“What’s wrong?” Jamie’s voice sounds very far away.
The lyrics float around me, and my lips mouth the chorus as Zach sings. I’m vaguely aware that Jamie’s hand is covering mine on top of the table, but all I can focus on is Zach singing my song.
My song. The one I played for him and his manager. The one they laughed at.
They said it wasn’t good enough before they took it.
