Page 62 of Broken Chords
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Vamp:improvised accompaniment, usually a repeating pattern played before the next musical passage
Charlie
The resort is exactly as elegant as I’d expect from Jonathan and Gabby. Rich, plush, decorated in understated creams and sage, but luxury evident in every amenity from the high thread count sheets to the included spa package. There’s a gift basket filled with chocolates, expensive body care products for both of us, name brand bottled water, and a note saying “Enjoy!” folded around a gift certificate for a couples massage, a facial for me, and a hot shave for Damian.
Damian looks over my shoulder as I unfold it. “Wow,” he breathes, clearly not expecting such sumptuous gifts from our hosts.
I shrug and smile up at him. “It’s pretty standard at these kinds of things.”
His arms wrap around my waist. “When my sister got married, she and my mom put together little gift bags for everyone, but they had the mini water bottles from Costco, mini Hershey’s bars, a list of fun things to do in the area, and a coupon for Marco’s restaurant. Not”—he reaches over my shoulder and plucks a candy bar from the basket—“full-sized Toblerone bars and a gift certificate for massages.”
Turning in his arms, I force my smile wider. “Welcome to the other half. Jonathan and Gabby can more than afford all this. Just enjoy it.”
He sets the Toblerone bar on the table and settles his hands on my low back, kissing me softly. “I know. I will. It’s just weird. When I knew her, Gabby was another college kid like me, eating on meal plan, and scraping together enough extra cash to go out for dinner once in a while to get a break from the cafeteria.”
I bite my lip, stifling a giggle. “Um, well, since she met Jonathan like the first week of classes, I doubt she was scrounging for off-campus dinners as often as you.”
“Jonathan was a normal college student at that point too, though.”
“Not quite. He was a member of Brash. And even though they were just a flash in the pan, they did well for themselves. He had more money than most college students probably do.”
“Oh.”
I pat his chest. “Don’t worry about it. She’s still the same person she was before. She just has access to more resources now.”
“I guess so.” He says the words slowly, as though he’s unsure of their truthfulness, his eyes unfocused as he stares over my shoulder. Then he shakes his head, bringing his eyes back to mine. “You don’t think all this—the fame, the money, everything—changes a person, though? They say power corrupts, after all.”
I laugh now, but it’s forced. “You think fame and power are the same thing?”
He lifts one shoulder and tilts his head. “Isn’t it? Famous people have money and influence. I couldn’t rent out a hotel for a wedding. Neither could my parents. We reserved a block of rooms when Sara got married. But the people who came paid for their own rooms. When I got the invitation for this, I assumed we’d have to pay for our own room. It wasn’t until later that I realized all we’d have to cover was our travel expenses. If they decide to support a cause, people listen, don’t they?”
I barely manage to nod, my muscles freezing up as I’m seized by fear. “Yeah. I guess so,” I choke out.
Oh God. How will Damian react when I tell him the truth? I was going to make us dinner and sit him down and fill him in on all the sordid details of my family and how I became Charlotte James when we got back. But if he’s worried about Gabby changing after her brief flirtation with fame and fortune, what’s he going to think of me—the pop diva for the better part of a decade?
“Um, I need to use the restroom. And then maybe have a snack.” My lips are numb as I force the words past them, backing out of Damian’s hold and bumping into the table behind me.
Concern creases his features. “Are you okay?”
I nod, stumbling past him. “Yeah. Yeah. Fine. I just, I think something I ate isn’t agreeing with me.”
“Okay. I can go to the gift shop and get you some medicine if you need, or …”
I wave a hand. “No, no. I don’t need anything. I just …”
His worried face and nod of understanding is the last thing I see before I close the door, letting my forehead rest against it for a minute before flipping on the fan, hoping that’ll make my story more convincing.
Shit. Shit shit shit.
I take several deep breaths, then slow them down, counting to four on the inhale, holding for four counts, and breathing out for eight until my panicky heart rate slows to something more manageable.
It’s normal to think that someone might change based on their experiences. It happens. In many ways, I’ve already changed from my experience at Marycliff. I’m more confident in my abilities, and even Dr. Gomez has commented on how much my technique has improved over the last semester. I haven’t found out my grades yet, but I know I did well in all my music classes, which are the ones that matter most to me. All the faculty members were complimentary after I played my jury, both on my poise and musicality. No one gushed about my technique, but I didn’t expect them to.
So if that’s true, even if I reveal the truth to Damian, I just have to convince him that I’m not corrupted by fame and power, even if I do have access to more money than he’s used to. I’m the person he knows and loves. As long as he sees that, we’ll be fine.
Okay. I take another deep breath and stare at myself in the mirror. This isn’t that big of a deal. It doesn’t change anything. We’ll get through the wedding this weekend, and then we’ll spend time with just the two of us when we get back. I’ll tell him everything. He’ll be surprised. But he’ll realize that it’s really not that big of a deal. Everything will be fine.
