Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 86322 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86322 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Expecting to find Lucian’s name on the screen, I almost hit ignore, but stopped at the last minute when I saw Ash’s name instead.
“Hey,” I answered, my voice rough from sleep.
“Are you sleeping?” he asked incredulously. “It’s one o’clock.”
“Technically, it’s only noon here.”
“Wait? What? Where is here?”
I rolled to my back and yawned. “New Orleans.”
“What are you doing in New Orleans?”
“Hiding.”
“From who?” He scoffed. “And since when do you hide?”
The day, the week, the past few months lumped together and weighed me down. The urge to spill every detail sat at the tip of my tongue, desperate for someone else to weigh in on the wild storm taking over my life. Yet I still hesitated.
My lips parted and…nothing came out.
I couldn’t bring myself to confess the lies around my agreement with Lucian, but this was Ash—my friend who never judged me. I could at least be honest about some of what sent me running and acting so out of character.
“Since…” I sighed and bit my lip before trudging on. “Since I’m not sure who I am anymore.”
“What?” he exclaimed.
I winced, realizing I Quentin Tarantino’d my explanation by starting at the end. Pausing, I took a moment to figure out how to explain what I meant.
“How did you know you wanted to be a musician?”
“Uhhh…”
“Just go with it,” I urged, pushing him past his confusion.
“Honestly, I don’t know. I just always loved music and did all kinds of music shit in school. Teachers told me I was gifted, or whatever that meant. I guess because I could learn any instrument easily.” He paused, his tone turning reverent. “But the bass made me feel. If that makes sense.”
“Yeah. It does,” I said softly. “I get it.”
I didn’t want to work at Quinn Music Group just because it was my family’s company. I worked there because I loved the job—the music. Music had gotten me through so many difficult times in my life, being there when I needed to feel like someone else understood what I was going through. Being there to help pull me out of my sorrow. Being there to remind me of some of my best moments.
I listened to the lyrics, the beat, the rhythm, and everything in between, and I just felt it. So, yeah. I got it.
“And it was the cool thing to do to be in a band. Chicks sure loved it.”
I laughed. “So, the real truth comes out.”
He joined me in laughing before falling silent. “What’s this about, Aspen?”
I sat up in bed and heaved a deep exhale, my shoulders collapsing back against the cushioned headboard. “I don’t know…I mean…” I groaned, struggling to find the right words. “Did you try other things? Did it take you a while to figure out what you did and didn’t like, or did you just give all you had to music?”
“Yeah, I tried other things. I played basketball in high school and probably would have played in college if we hadn’t gotten signed, but I didn’t like it. I also played soccer when I was a kid, but I sucked so bad at it.”
I snorted, imagining a young Ash fumbling around a field and smiling.
Then my humor faded when I tried to relate and came up empty. “I never did that,” I said, my voice solemn. “I put myself on a path and never deviated from it—like a racehorse with blinders on, I didn’t stop to see anything else. What if I missed something? What if I’m playing basketball when I could be playing bass?”
“Aspen,” he sighed. “I hated basketball. I did it because my dad forced me to. If I’d found the feeling bass gave me from the beginning, then I never would have wasted my time with anything else. I don’t think you need to worry about missing out on some childhood sports because you focused on what you loved. Besides, you’re only twenty-five. You have your whole life ahead of you to discover new things. I mean, look at Oprah; she didn’t become Oprah until her thirties.”
“Yeah,” I agreed flatly. I got what he meant, but so many questions still rose and fell like waves, plaguing me.
There was a pause on the line before he spoke again. “What does the fiancé say about this?”
I groaned, sinking lower down the bed.
“That good?” he asked with a quiet breath of amusement.
“I technically don’t have a fiancé anymore,” I mumbled.
“Technically?”
As if the words from earlier had never abandoned their perch on the tip of my tongue, I bolted upright as they spewed without thought. “Listen, it was all a sham anyway, and I forgot that. Which led to a whole dramatic situation, and I…I just couldn’t do it anymore?”
“A sham?”
I scrambled for an explanation that avoided the whole truth. “I mean-I meant… I just meant that we both knew what we were looking for when he asked me to marry him. Like I told you before…it was unconventional.”