Page 39 of Lies and Lullabies
I yawned, still unwilling to open my eyes. But something smelled good, and the smell was getting stronger. When I finally peeked, Ethan was waving a bowl of chili under my face. His amazing, chunky, homemade chili, with sour cream and shaved cheddar cheese melting on top. My stomach growled at the savory scent.
“Sit up.”
I didn’t fight him on this. I pulled myself up and leaned back against the headboard.
Ethan put a tray on my lap, then stuck a spoon in my hand. “Eat this. Every bite.”
He didn’t leave after making his delivery. He sat there on the bed until the food started going in at a satisfactory rate. Ethan’s last act of mercy was to open the beer he’d put on the tray and press it into my free hand. Then he left the room.
I hadn’t spoken a word to him, but that was okay. Several hours ago—though it felt like several weeks—I had tried to explain to Kira that everyone who cared for me was on my payroll. When I’d said it, I was feeling sorry for myself. But tonight the payroll was seriously pulling its weight.
After eating, I left the tray on the mattress and carried the beer into the lodge’s shared bathroom. The shower was already occupied, so I bent over one of the sinks and splashed water on my face. Since Quinn’s toiletry bag was sitting there, I helped myself to some kind of fancy soap. Then I nabbed her brush, raking it through my hair.
I tossed it back into place as Quinn stepped out of the shower wrapped in a towel. When our eyes met in the mirror, she got straight to the point. “Wow, Jonas, is it true? You really have a kid?”
“Looks that way.” My voice was rough from disuse.
“You’re not sure?” Her eyes got wider.
“No, I’m sure.”
“Oh honey. How come you’re just finding out now?” Quinn picked up the brush I’d abandoned and began teasing the tangles from her long hair. “Five years later? Whodoesthat? What a bitch.”
“Don’t call her that,” I growled.
Quinn snorted. “Okay. Sure. But that isn’t normal behavior, Jonas. What the hell was she thinking? You’d have to be a stone-cold bitch to keep that from a guy. Or else…” She flinched.
“Or else what? Just say it already.”
“Damaged,” she said quietly. “Either way, it’s not good news for you.”
I bristled, even though Quinn always had my best interests at heart. Most days her bluntness didn’t bother me much, because I was pretty sure she was a little damaged, too.
Maybe we all were. I was still mad at Kira, of course. But I was just as mad at myself.
“Either way,” Quinn chirped, “be careful. The media is going to eat this up. And the label will love it. They’ll exploit this all summer long if it means ‘Sweetness’ rides the Billboard charts. I’m surprised your phone isn’t already ringing with an offer to put the whole fam-damily on the cover ofPeople.”
Jesus. I felt sick just picturing that. Without another glance at Quinn, I left the bathroom.
The idea of paparazzi photographing Vivi made my skin crawl. Not only would Kira hate it, but what four-year-old could understand strangers jumping out of the lilac hedge with a camera?
I was accustomed to that kind of bullshit and understood my millions of dollars in the bank were fed by the media machine. But I’d made that choice myself. Kira and Vivi hadn’t.
Fuck.
Back in my room, I dropped to the braided rug on the floor and began banging out pushups. It always helped me think.
Quinn could have been nicer about it, but she’d made a good point. Given half a chance, the media would eat up this story. I’d seen these things unfold. Even if everyone on the tour bus kept their traps shut, all it would take would be for some paralegal at my lawyer’s office to leak the story. I might be a thousand miles away singing in some stadium in Virginia while some asshole bore down on Kira and Vivi outside their Boston apartment building with a video camera.
Shit. For the first time, Kira’s decision not to tell me about Vivi seemed almost reasonable.
And the new single made it all worse, right? It wasn’t a huge leap to lay the inspiration for “Sweetness” at Kira’s feet.
It had taken me five years to write that song, because it had taken me that long to figure out what I was trying to say. Even now the song was far from perfect, but I’d gotten impatient with myself and recorded it anyway.
If I was honest with myself, I’d hoped that Kira would hear it. I’d gone so far as to picture her in a car somewhere, listening to a Spotify playlist and tapping her thumbs on the steering wheel. In my daydream, she’d googled the song later and figured out that I was that guy from five years ago. She’d realize I’d written it just for her.
And then—in my fantasy—she’d smiled.
