The music starts.
I’m in automatic pilot. I’ve heard this song ten million times. I don’t even need to think to sing it.
There’s got to be a logical explanation why Josh didn’t tell me about his move that has nothing to do with him intending to break up with me when he moves here. He had to have his reasons. Good reasons. The fact that he didn’t tell me doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to be with me. There’s got to be another logical reason. But I can’t think what it could be. What other reason could there possibly be except that Josh doesn’t want to be with me when he moves to Seattle?
Tears fill my eyes. Why doesn’t he want to be with me? I want to be with him more than anything. More than I want literally anything else. I think it’s fair to say I want to be with Josh more than I want to breathe.
I pick up the microphone.
Maybe he was just gonna surprise me with the news—and Jonas let the cat out of the bag? But, no. I saw Josh’s face when Jonas spilled the beans. He didn’t look like a guy whose happy surprise got unwittingly spilled by his brother. He looked like a guy who just got busted on something—a guy whose cover just got blown.
The teleprompter begins scrolling the words to the song, and, even though I have no desire to sing it right now, my mouth begins half-heartedly mumble-singing the first lines. But the words are slaying me. They’re too close to home. They’re about Whitney having no choice but to leave her lover. She loves him, but she’s got to go. It’s just the way it is.
Everyone’s cheering uproariously. As far as they’re concerned, I’m giving the performance of a lifetime—an emotion-packed Whitney-tribute.
I yank the scarf off my head. Fucking scarf. Why the fuck am I doing this? I don’t want to role-play a freakin’ fantasy right now. I wanna talk to Josh in real-life. I wanna know why he didn’t tell me.
The teleprompter reaches the words of the chorus—the words I’ve been singing at the top of my lungs in the shower since I was ten years old.
I look at Josh. He’s standing stock-still, no longer playing his part. He’s looking at me with the same expression he had when I opened my door to him in Las Vegas after reading his application.
My eyes drift to the teleprompter again, though I certainly don’t need it to know the lyrics.
I can’t sing these words to Josh. Not like this. These are sacred words—magic words. The words I’d planned to say to Josh later tonight when we were all alone in my bed.
The words I’d planned to say when I thought Josh loved me, too, but just didn’t know how to say it. And now, suddenly, I realize he doesn’t feel the way I do.
Without conscious thought, I toss the scarf into the air, letting it flutter to the ground, bolt out of my chair, and sprint out the front doors of the bar, ugly tears streaming down my face.
39
JOSH
“Kat!” I yell. She doesn’t turn around. The night air is chilly, but my skin is blazing hot. This is a fucking catastrophe. “Kat!” I yell again, my voice strained.
She whips around to face me, heat wafting off her skin. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she blurts, tears streaming down her cheeks.
My heart is physically pained at the sight of her. I grab her shoulders, desperate to make her understand. “You’re blowing this way out of proportion. Just listen to me, okay?”
“You put your house on the market three weeks ago—you’ve obviously known for a while.”
I exhale. “I only decided for sure about a month ago.”
She throws up her hands.
“But I’m not moving for two or three months,” I say. “I can’t move until I’ve got everything squared away with Faraday & Sons.”
Her expression is a wicked combination of devastation and fury.
“I didn’t wanna say anything until it was closer,” I say soothingly. “That’s all. I was gonna tell you. Justlater.”
She clenches her jaw. “Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why wait ’til later to tell me?”
“Because I didn’t want you to get your hopes up if...” I stop. I can already tell this isn’t gonna go over well. Oh shit. I’m fucked.
