Page 97 of I Just Want to be Yours

Brian hangs up the phone and heads over to us. He claps his hands together. “Okay, we need to get into the studio as soon as possible.” He looks at Mya. “You filled them in?”

She bobs her head from side to side. “More or less. Jackson knows everything, and the other guys know we need to record something Jackson wrote.”

Brian nods. “Good enough. So, when can we do this? We need to ride the wave, and we don’t know how long this will last, so the sooner the better.”

“All the days between shows for the rest of the tour will be spent traveling, so it will have to be after.” Brady says.

Dave nods. “I guess we know what we’re doing with our few days off between tours now. We’ll find an available studio and rent it out for the day.” He turns to me. “How much of this song do you have?”

My knee bounces under the table. I can’t stay here between tours. I need to see Margot. “All of it. But you guys can make changes. It could probably use some help.”

“No changes,” Brian says with a firm shake of his head. “Everyone already loves it. We can’t change it.”

Brady frowns. “Who’s everyone?”

Mya props her elbow on the table, looking far too pleased with herself. “Just 2.4 million viewers.”

Marty balks. “I’m sorry. Did you say 2.4million?”

Everyone waits for confirmation, and Mya happily nods.

The guys break out in comments I can’t keep track of because all I can think about is how much I don’t want to record this song using the few days we have between tours.

“Damn!” Marty leans forward to look over at me. “I knew your pretty face would come in handy.”

I flip him off with a laugh.

Brian snaps his fingers to get all our attention. “Focus. Studio time. I want to reserve the hours now, so when can we do it?”

“Between tours works for me,” Brady says with a shrug.

“Same,” Dave agrees.

“I’ve got no plans,” Marty chimes in.

Then they’re all looking at me. My fists clench on the tabletop. I never want to be the one to let the band down, but I never want to be the one to let Margot down, either. If I don’t see her during this break—if I don’t even come home like I said I would, I know there will be no shot at us working things out. Saying yes to the band this time feels like saying goodbye to Margot forever, and I’m not ready for that.

I don’t think I’ll ever be ready for that.

But they’re all fucking staring at me, and it’s like I can feel the compounded pressure with each of their gazes. Especially Brian’s. He’s looking at me like his career hangs in the balance of how I respond to this question, and it’s too much.

“I . . .” Rubbing a tense hand over my mouth, I shake my head. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

Brian curses under his breath. “Why?”

I don’t want to answer him because I know he’ll think my reason is dumb. They all will. Well, everyone except for Mya judging by the slight lift to her lips. My knee bounces under thetable, and I clasp both hands in front of my mouth. “I have to go home. I’m sorry.”

The irony of my statement plummets in my stomach. Because I don’t technically have a home. I wouldn’t consider my parents’ house home, and Margot technically isn’t a home for me right now either. If I go back to the apartment, and she won’t see me, I don’t know where I’ll go. Then losing the opportunity to record with the band will have been for nothing. I swallow at the thought.

Marty’s eyebrows furrow. “To see Margot?”

My jaw tenses, and I nod.

He looks over at Dave. “I thought you said they broke up?”

His question sends a pang through my chest, and I drop my gaze. The entire table goes quiet, and when I dare to look up, I find Dave looking innocently from me to Marty. “I thought they did.” When my eyebrows crease, Dave adds, “You just haven’t seemed like yourself.”

I guess that’s fair. I haven’t felt like myself either.

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