Page 42 of The New Year's Party
“Tell me the truth, Nathan. For once in your life, look me in the eye and tell me the truth.”
Her tears were a nasty surprise. Little dots of hot ice rolling down her cheeks. She didn’t want Nathan to have the power to make her feel things anymore. Instead, here she was, feelingall the old feelings and doing her least favorite thing, crying, in front of her least favorite person.
He heaved a sigh and looked at her. “It was a long time ago.” He reached behind him to the counter and ripped off a chunk of paper towel. He handed it to Bunny.
“Time doesn’t heal all wounds, Nathan,” she said, registering in some small part of herself that she should write that down in her Notes app, because it was a great line for a song. Not that she even could write songs anymore. It had been so long. She patted her cheeks with the paper towel.
“Come on, Bunny,” said Nathan. He sounded tired. “It’s New Year’s Eve.”
The cold breath of the fridge raised goose bumps over Bunny’s chest and arms, but the protection of the open door was their small confessional, and it was her turn, damn it. Her turn to get the closure he would never give her unless she squeezed it out of him, so that she could stop circling and move the hell on.
“You already hurt me. The damage is done,” she said. “Now you owe me the truth.”
He breathed, long and hard, out his nostrils. Recomposed himself. “You’re—you’re not as talented as you think you are. Okay? So... that’s it. Are we happy now that you’ve dragged that out of me?”
She shook her head. “I don’t get it. What the hell does my music have to do with anything?”
He licked his lips. His tone was light, like he was hoping this wouldn’t be a big deal. “I never really thought you could make a career out of music, okay? I know I led you on, I know Itoldyou I was your biggest fan and all that... I was just trying to be a good boyfriend.”
“Fiancé,” Bunny corrected automatically.
“Fiancé.”
She could feel her pulse behind her eyeballs. “You said Iwas as good as Carrie Underwood. You said I could take it to the top. You said—”
“Come on.” His voice was low. Almost compassionate. “Do you really think you ever could have? Think of how much talent is out there. I honestly never thought you’d even try. I thought it was all talk, and we’d settle down here, in Michigan City. I figured you had your bachelor’s, and you’d get a job as a music teacher or something. Then you actually moved to Nashville...” Nathan rubbed a hand through his hair. “I couldn’t do it, okay? I mean, I did... I moved too, but... I was scared, okay?”
“About what? My supposed lack of talent?” She was feeling hysterical. “That doesn’t make any sense!”
His voice hardened a little. “Watching you fail. I couldn’t stay there and watch that happen.”
Oh, oh, oh. This was worse than she thought. She’d been prepared foryou were too controlling, which she knew she was at that age, orliving with you wasn’t what I imagined, which, to be fair, living with him wasn’t either, or evenyou snore at night, which she did really hate about herself. But not this. Not this.
Her songs were good... weren’t they? Oh, God. Had everyone just been laughing up their sleeves at her? Was she completely deluded? A farce? A joke?
“When you left, I was pregnant,” she said, crumpling the paper towel in her fist.
Nathan’s jaw practically dropped.
“You werepregnant?” he said in a hot whisper. He reached forward and gripped her arm. “Bunny, what the actual fuck? I have a child I didn’t know about?”
“Actually—” she said, feeling as vicious as she’d ever felt in her entire life.
“Phelps! Bunny! We’re waiting on you guys!” came a shout from the dining room. Doug. “We’ve run out ofStar Warshot takes, and we can’t start dessert without you!”
Nathan and Bunny looked at each other.
“Actually what?” said Nathan urgently. Bunny saw the fear in his eyes.
She grabbed the last glass of mousse and stomped off, her whole body zinging. Takethat, Nathan Fucking Phelps. Let him wonder if there was a small Phelps out there. Let him agonize. Let him feel anounceof the agony she had felt, all alone in Nashville with her broken dreams. And fuck him, that she hadn’t written a song since he’d left her. Not a single goddamn song.
“Finally!” cried Doug as they both returned to their seats. “Let’s dig in!”
Bunny felt lightheaded as everyone attacked their mousse. She clutched her tiny dessert spoon in her hand and looked at Nathan, who was determinedlynotlooking at her. She couldn’t bring herself to take a bite.
Talk. That’s what Nathan said:it was all talk. His specialty—and the specialty of everyone at this table. Bullshitting. Shooting the breeze with careless words. Lethal words. Words she had hung herlifeon. Sheneverwould have moved to Nashville after college without Nathan’s belief in her. Never would have assumed she was that talented unless he had blown her up like his stupid inflatable Santa. Compared her to Carrie Underwood, Shania Twain, the country greats. And she hadbelievedhim. Even after he left her, even after he broke her heart, even though she allowed herself to get consumed with side hustles, with Elliott the Ex, with having kids, even though she stopped songwriting, in some small corner of her heart, she hadstillhung on to Nathan’s belief in her music.
She looked across the table at Will, who was dipping into his chocolate mousse as Doug told a long confusing story about the most expensive gutter sale he’d ever made. Lies, she knew it, that’s all these assholes were capable of. Doug, Nathan, Will—disgusting. Enough was enough. And wasn’t this howthe patriarchy propagated itself? Lying, asshole douchebags who went unchallenged year after year, secure in their power. Thinking they could do whatever the hell they wanted and get away with it. No more. She was going to face Will, as soon as possible. Force him to confess by any means necessary that he had betrayed her confidence and ruined her chances at getting her rightful inheritance. And then?
