When’s Vince coming back?
Hasn’t that been Jagger’s question of the day—hell, the past couple of days really—and the one that’s been a constant on my mind?
Because while I’ve had a blast exploring with Jagger and spending one-on-one time with him—more than it feels like I’ve been able to in forever—there’s a hole without Vince here. An indescribable something missing in the norm we’ve created over the past few weeks.
It’s amazing how easy you can fall into something—even a major life change—and never realize it.
And it’s currently the question I’ve fallen silent over because I don’t have a response to give.
“So he still hasn’t called or texted?” Simone asks.
“No.”
“And you haven’t called or texted him?”
“Uh-uh.”
“Unwanted advice alert here, but you two might just be the most stubborn people on the face of this earth.”
I chuckle. She has a point and yet . . . “I’ve thrown Vince into you have no choice but to grow up fire, and I tossed him into it without any warning.”
“You didn’t throw him into shit. His dad did.”
“Semantics.”
“Extremely important semantics. I mean, you were willing to go on your merry way and not tell him.”
“Exactly, which is a problem in and of itself if you’re standing in Vince’s shoes.” I lift my face to the sun and welcome its warmth, Jagger’s random boy noises of space invaders crashing into the top step of the pool a constant in the background.
“And this gives justification for you guys not talking to each other, why?”
When she puts it that way, it sounds silly. “He had to leave to promote the new material. I get that. But it’s also the first time since finding out about Jagger, that he’s been away from us. That he’s had time to think without Jagger front and center in his face.”
“I’m not following you.”
“Maybe he needs time to digest it all. To make decisions now that he’s had time to take a step back and process it.”
“I can understand that. But that doesn’t explain why you haven’t reached out to him, especially if he’s telling you how right it feels and all of that.”
“I’m trying to respect his time. I’m trying to show him that I believe him when he told me to trust him. That’s a hard one for me, but if I’m texting him constantly, doesn’t that say the opposite? That I’m afraid and am checking up on him?”
“Are you afraid?” she asks softly.
“I’m trying not to be. Each day that passes doesn’t make it any easier, truth be told. I mean, it was reflex to want to call him and congratulate him on hitting number one, but no matter how many times I typed out the text or picked up the phone, I put it back down.”
“Maybe you’re overthinking this.”
“Maybe I’m trying to prepare myself for life without him. For not being able to pick up that phone and for him to not be on the other end.”
She snorts. “While you’re living in his mansion.”
I laugh, her comment making me realize how ridiculous I sound. “I can hold out as long as needed. He needs to be the one who makes the next move.”
“Hopefully he’s not thinking the same thing about you.”
I scrunch up my nose and give a nod she can’t see. “Don’t make me second-guess myself.”
“Isn’t that my job?” She chuckles. “And even with all that, I know you still want to ask.”
“Am I that obvious?”
“Girl, you’ve been hiding away in a mansion in the land of lakes, only answering texts, and then all of a sudden you pick up the phone and call me?”
“For what it’s worth, I wasn’t picking up because you only call late at night and—”
“And you were too busy getting railed by the rock god to pick up. I get it. I understand. I’ve got you, girl.”
I roll my eyes. “I was going to say my phone is usually on do not disturb at night so it won’t wake up Jagg, but you paint a much better picture.”
“I do, don’t I? And you’re going to have to forgive me because I might have painted that picture off skew and added me in your place for one fleeting moment when he walked past me the other day. I nearly died from his . . . looks, voice, cologne, broodiness . . . just damn everything.”
“You’re forgiven.” But . . . how did he look? How was he? Does he seem okay?
What answer will she provide that gives you any indication that he’s missing you?
None. Zip. Zilch.
He’s at work. He has the number one song in the country. Of course he’s not going to look like anything other than cocky, edgy Vince.
“He looked good, Bristol. I know you want to ask. Like a hundred pounds have been lifted from his shoulders.”
“Hmm.”
“And, no. Don’t go thinking he seems less burdened because he’s here, away from you, and is planning on jetting. It was more . . . I don’t know . . . he looked content. God, I sound like my mother using that word, but that’s the best way I can explain it.”
“Okay. Content is good.” Here with me is better though.
“He stopped by your desk, you know.”
“My old desk?”
“Nah. It’s still yours. McMann hasn’t done anything with it. He didn’t do the normal have someone pack your shit up in a box and leave it at the front desk thing. Your stuff is all still there, right where you left everything.”
“Oh. That’s news to me.”
“Rumor is, Vince went to bat for you and told McMann that if you go, he goes type of shit.”
“Jesus Christ. The last thing I need—”
“It’s the first thing you need. Your man going to bat for you? Threatening for you? Girl, eat that shit up. Let him feel like he’s taking care of you even though we all know you can take care of yourself.”
“I know, but . . .”
“But nothing. Vince hasn’t texted you, he hasn’t called you, and yet he’s still trying to take care of you. Why don’t you use that to ease your worry—and don’t say he’s getting your job back for you because he’s planning on leaving you. No, he’s doing it because he values how fiercely independent you are and knows there is no way in hell you’re going to let him pull the Cinderella shit on you.”
“Cinderella shit?” I laugh.
“Yeah, sweep you off your feet, hide you away in a castle, and never let you work again.”
The thought does sound appealing—the not having to work for McMann part—but she’s right. I’d totally overthink it. I should find comfort in the fact that Vince knows me so well he’s trying to retain my independence for me.
“For the record, he was standing in your cube, with the framed collage of you and Jagger in his hand, just staring at it with a soft smile on his face. I thought you might want to know that.”
Tears well in my eyes as a smile ghosts over my lips. Yeah, I definitely wanted to know that. Needed to.
I clear the emotion from my throat. “Hey, Simone?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you. I needed to hear all of this. To talk to you. Thank you.”
“Girl, I’ll talk you off the ledge any day.” She sighs. “And don’t worry. I’ll think of ways that you can repay me.”
I throw my head back and laugh. “I’m sure you will.”
We hang up, a smile on my face, and my heart lighter than it has been this past week. We’ve been holed up here without anything but each other, calls to my parents, and nothing but time to let my thoughts run wild.
Simone was what I was missing. What I didn’t know I needed.
“Was that him, Momma? Is Vince coming back?”
I shield my eyes, look his way, and smile. “Not yet. Soon. I promise, he’s coming home soon.” And for the first time, I truly believe it.
