Page 51 of Playing With My Heart Strings

The cars pull up to the house thirty minutes later, and the girls all pile out. We only have two more weeks before we go on the road for what Ace High is calling a “mini tour.” Truthfully, it’s just three different cities, and two of them are in Tennessee. But it’ll give the girls a taste of what touring with me might look like, and give me an opportunity to perform with them live in front of an audience. Because at the end of the day, this is also about who I want to continue my career with.

“Hi, Dusty!” Katherine waves at me as she walks into the house before walking over to pull me into a hug.

“Morning, ladies,” I greet the rest of them as they follow behind. Once they’re all here, we take a seat at the dining table and the caterers who arrived early this morning start passing out plates of food.

I take a few quick bites, knowing I’ll be leaving here soon before asking, “How was everyone’s night?”

I don’t enjoy small talk, but there’s not much else to discuss right now. The deeper conversations happen during solo dates or one-on-one conversations.

“It was good. It’s wild that there’s only five of us left. It feels like we just arrived,” Valerie answers first, and the other girls nod in agreement, even Aspen.

“Jade and I were pretty close, so I was sad to see her go.” Aspen hangs her head a little, and I can’t tell if it’s genuine or an act now that the cameras are here. Jade was the one person, besides Valerie, who I hadn’t gotten to speak to about Aspen, and part of me wishes I had spoken to her. Especially now, knowing that they were somewhat friends.

“I’m just glad to be here another week.” Sage laughs, lightening the mood a bit.

“I’m looking forward to this week.” I cut into the conversation after dabbing my face to get the syrup from my pancakes out of my mustache. “There are some important conversations to be had, but we’ve got some amazing dates lined up as well.”

Any chatter amongst the girls has ceased as they wait for me to announce who will be going on the first date this week.

“I won’t keep you waiting.” I chuckle as I look around the table. “Valerie, would you like to go on this date with me?”

A sigh escapes the lips of one of the girls, but my eyes are locked on Valerie as she smiles and nods.

“Absolutely, I’ll go on the date with you.” She scoots her chair out from the dining table, leaving her breakfast untouched.

Before I follow suit and slide out from the dining table, I grab a piece of bacon for the road. “Have a great breakfast, ladies, and I’ll see you later.”

As we walk toward the front door of the house, I place my free hand on the small of Valerie’s back and whisper, “I’m excited to have this time with you today.”

She looks over at me, practically beaming, and replies, “Me too.”

The producers bring us to a farmers market in the heart of the city. When we arrive, there are two big open-air buildings—one on each side of us—housing vendors. Straight ahead are the gardens and a stage where a band plays live music in front of a seating area with picnic tables.

“This is amazing,” Valerie gasps as she takes it all in.

Before today, I’d never been to any of the farmers markets in Nashville. I’d never had time with my busy schedule and touring, although supporting small business owners is high on my list of priorities. Back in Oklahoma, my family often sets up at local markets, and being here causes a rush of childhood memories to flow through my mind. But I push them away as quickly as they come, not allowing guilt to rise in my chest.

I left home to make a better life for myselfandfor my family. I don’t—can’t—regret the decision I made, because what’s done is done. But the pressure to succeed, knowing that one wrong decision could be the end of it all, continues to weigh on me.

“Where do you want to go first?” I ask in an attempt to completely clear my mind and focus solely on today’s date.

“Should we just make our way down the line?” she suggests.

I nod, taking her hand and leading her toward the building to our left. Immediately, we’re greeted by stands and stands of fresh fruits and vegetables.

“Good morning, folks!” one of the vendors greets us, even as camera crews follow us around.

“Oh, look at these!” Valerie points to some tomatoes as she moves down the line of vendors. “Do you like to cook?”

“I’m not very good at it.” I laugh. “But I’ll occasionally cook meals for myself. Do you?”

“I love cooking. Especially for my friends and family. My mom is Greek, so growing up, she frequently made a dish called strapatsada for family breakfasts,” she explains. “She didn’t want me and my siblings to forget about our roots, and food is such a wonderful way to bring people together, so she taught us how to make several traditional dishes.”

“Your mom sounds wonderful.” I turn to the seller behind the stand. “How much for a few of these tomatoes?”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that!” Valerie protests.

“I insist. Come on, let me do this for you. That way you can teach me how to make your mom’s dish. I can use all the cooking tips I can get.” I wink at her before handing the vendor a twenty-dollar bill.

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