Page 3 of Christmas Music
I knew. I’d grown up with the entire town taking the idea of Christmas entirely too seriously. Not that I’d ever minded, of course. Christmas was my favorite season, and I’d been just as excited about it as anyone else when I was a kid.
Right now, though, when I was running home to hide my face rather than celebrate...
Well, I’m sure you can see the problem.
I wasn’t exactly in a deck-the-halls, come-ye-gentlemen sort of mood. I was in a get-me-the-hell-out-of-Nashville-before-my-heart-breaks-any-further sort of mood.
I took one last glance at all the Christmas goodness and then turned myself and my luggage into the one and only coffee shop in town—one of my favorite places in the world, and the place I’d always come when I felt blue. Christmas had gone up in here as well, and the place was packed full of decorations, garland, mistletoe, and two full-sized Christmas trees shoved into corners.
The sight brought me to a sharp stop in the doorway—like I hadn’t already known what to expect—but then I saw my best friend at the bar, a coffee already in her hand... and one sitting on the counter next to her, waiting for me. I moved toward her like a ship that’s seen its home port, my breathing suddenly easier at the sight of her considering face. Parker Pelton and I had known each other since we were kids, come up through the grades in the one and only school in town and been so close we could have been sisters.
There were many times, in fact, when I’d wished I’d gotten her instead of the real sister Ididhave. Not that I hated my sister. She was wonderful. Most of the time.
Parker had always just been more my style.
“Parker,” I said gratefully, sliding onto the bar stool next to her.
She lifted one eyebrow and slid the coffee she wasn’t drinking over to sit in front of me. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Liv, but you don’t look good.”
I grinned at her, already closer to laughing than I had been in a week. Trust Parker to give me the truth, no matter how harsh it might be. “Well don’t hold back, Parker. Tell me how you really feel.” I grabbed the coffee and brought it to my mouth, already salivating at the idea of the caffeinated goodness.
“Gingerbread,” I moaned. “Have I told you how much I love you for knowing how I like my coffee?”
She snorted and took a sip of her own drink. “I live with you. I see you drinking coffee every morning. It’d be hard to forget.”
I made a face at her. “They don’t have coffee like this in Nashville, and you know it. How about you just let me give you the compliment?”
She stuck her tongue out at me. “I’ll take the compliment if you tell me what the hell is going on. Why are you here? I thought we agreed that we were never coming back here. And why do you look so...” She gestured vaguely at my face—and outfit—as if she didn’t really have the words to describe what she was seeing.
I could have asked her the same thing. Parker had been just as anxious to get out of this town as me, and we’d run for Nashville the moment we were legal. We’d been living there together—along with a girl from the next town over, who was also trying to breaking into the music industry—for years, now.
And yet here she was, back in Arberry for the last week, staying in the town she’d sworn she’d never come back to. Granted, she had a good reason. The record company she worked for—and the one I was trying to sign with—had sent her here to do some publicity. She’d packed up a week ago and headed out, complaining the entire time about having to come back.
She’d missed everything that happened in the last couple days.
“First of all, I just got off a five-hour bus ride,” I said primly. “And I’d like to seeyoulook perfect after something like that.”
She just rolled her eyes. “Uh-huh. Five hours on a bus, when you could have been sleeping, didn’t cause that full set of baggage under your eyes. And it sure didn’t make you look like you woke up this morning and forgot to take a shower before you left the house.”
Oh, that.
It was a good question, honestly, because the last time Parker saw me, I’d been on the verge of a record deal, partnered up with a guy who was not only my lead guitarist and bandmate but also my boyfriend. We’d gotten the news the night before she left, and I’d taken her to coffee to celebrate. She was my closest friend in Nashville, the girl I’d known almost my entire life, and I hadn’t been able to think of anyone I’d rather celebrate with more.
Not even the boyfriend with whom I was about to sign the contract.
Unfortunately, after that, it had all gone... well, wrong.
Dean had started carrying on about how the contract was more about him than it was about me, and how he considered me a backup singer to his lead. He’d decided that we should start the tour we’d been promised with his music rather than mine, and that his name was going to get lead billing when it came to appearances.
In short, he’d started acting like the whole thing was his doing, and like I owed him some sort of thanks for the deal we were about to sign. He’d discounted all the work I’d done—and all the music I’d written—and taken all the glory for himself.
He’d become a completely different person. One I’d never seen before—and one I’d never seen coming.
It had taken me approximately one night of that to decide that though Dean and I might have made some really beautiful music together, I was done. I’d been in love with the guy once, but listening to him go on and on about how he was the talent of the duo...
“Let’s just say it’s over between Dean and me,” I said, settling on the most straightforward explanation possible. “He seemed to think that the contract was about him rather than us, and that I was going to play second fiddle to his Big Man on Campus routine.”
Parker gave a very unladylike snort. “Idiot. So you’re here to recover from the breakup.”
