Page 11 of One More Made Up Love Song
If you had asked me yesterday what the cruelest form of torture would be, I would not have conjured up a shirtless Freddie crawling into my very tiny bunk to have a heart-to-heart about my living situation.
But after last night? My answer has definitely changed.
There is nothing Freddie could do that would be more torturous than that. The way he smelled, clean and fresh, the way his skin felt under my palm when I went searching for his hand.
I turned the light off because I couldn’t trust myself not to stare at his body, to study the many,manytattoos that decorate his torso. But I didn’t account for the unexpected intimacy created by talking—in the dark.
I texted him about moving out for my own peace of mind, but I had no clue he would charge in like Sherlock Holmes, ready to ask me all the hard questions. That was amiscalculation I shouldn’t have made. I know Freddie better than anyone. I should have guessed he would have reacted like he did. Nothing gets to him more than the knowledge that someone he cares about isn’t happy.
To be in Freddie’s inner circle is truly amazing. He’s so good to his friends. Good to me.
And I don’t want that to stop.
But if I’m going to keep my heart from cracking open, I have to do it on my own terms. From myownapartment.
My phone buzzes in my hand, and I glance down to see a text from Mira Stapleton.
Mira
Hey Ivy! Long time, no see. My messages aren’t getting through to Freddie. Did his number change?
I tap my phone onto my palm and debate whether I should respond. Despite my annoyance that Mira is the only woman who has actually managed to get Freddie on a date the past few years, I can’t truly hate her. Mostly because she’s one of the nicest people I’ve ever met—genuine and funny and real—and she talks to me like I’m a real person and not just hired help.
But I also can’t hate her because I’m pretty confident Freddie doesn’t like her as much as she likes him. They don’t have a ton of chemistry, and he’s never seemed all that excited about going out with her. She’s an easy date when his publicist wants him to make a public appearance, but I know him well enough to pick up on his lack of enthusiasm.
It’s selfish of me to think it, but if Ihaveto watch Freddie date another woman, I’d rather it be someone like Mira—someone he doesn’t actually like.
Honestly, I probably would have quit by now if he made a habit of dating people for real. He goes out plenty, but rarely more than once with the same person. And it’s never been more than twice with anyone but Mira.
I pocket my phone without responding to Mira’s message. I’m pretty sure she doesn’t actually think Freddie’s number changed. She’s just hoping I’ll nudge him to respond to what I’m guessing was an unanswered text she sent to him.
I’ll ask him about it later. It’s probably time he put the poor woman out of her misery and tell her he doesn’t have feelings for her.
“How’s he doing?” a voice asks from behind me.
I swivel around, one hand flying to my chest. As far as I knew, I was alone in the control room opposite the recording studio.
“Sloane,” I say to Freddie’s agent. “What are you doing here?”
“I flew in for a meeting with another client,” she says. “Figured it wouldn’t hurt to check in while I’m in town.”
Sloane Mercer is a million times better than Freddie’s old agent, mostly because she’shonest.But she’s also slightly terrifying.
She’s gorgeous, for one. Tall and sleek and business-professional, with a polish to her appearance I could never dream of achieving. Somehow, she is both nurturing, like the best kind of mom—she has two grown children, so she has some experience on that front—and unflinchingly firm. She made it very clear in her first meetings with Freddie that if he does what she says, she will always steer him toward success. But he has to trust her.
It’s a relief, honestly, to be working with her. After somany years with Kevin, Freddie’s old agent, I got really good at recognizing his lies. But it was always work to get Freddie to see them. Kevin was the agent for Midnight Rush, the boyband that launched Freddie’s career, so there was probably some measure of nostalgia or misdirected loyalty that kept Freddie hanging on to Kevin for so long.
But Sloane, in the nine months since Freddie hired her, has already proven her worth.
That doesn’t mean I’m not surprised to see her.
It isn’tthatstrange that Sloane is in Chicago to meet with another client. It’s a big city. But I’m still guessing this is more than just a casual drop-in.
With how little progress Freddie has made on his album, she has to be feeling the stress of his looming deadline as much as he is.
“He’s doing great,” I say, trying to keep my voice chill. “He’s a natural in interviews.”
Sloane steps closer to the giant window looking into the recording booth and folds her arms.
