Page 89 of Sweet Escape

I tug my bag and suitcase inside and kick the door closed behind me. The open room feels as empty as I do.

I put Theo’s things in storage before I left town, and it still feels strange. Like that time after Christmas, when all the decorations are taken down and the living room suddenly seems stark and lifeless.

When I cross over to the bedroom, I find that it’s the same. The king-size bed frame sits empty in the middle of the room, the bedding and mattress having also been removed during the purge.

It’s a good thing. I know that.

But it’s also sad. I’m sad.

So instead of unpacking, I grab a glass of wine and retreat to my balcony. I take a deep breath of the salty sea air and settle into a chair.

I want to do nothing. I want to be no one. I just want to sit here and listen to the ocean and drink my weight in wine.

But that’s unrealistic, so after a few sips, I pick up my phone and call Todd.

“Hey, your travel home go okay?”

“It did.”

“Good. You ready for tomorrow?”

“I guess.”

Todd laughs. “Yeesh. Don’t sound so excited. It’s only your dream coming true.”

I chuckle a little bit, knowing he’s right. “Sorry, I think I’m tired. And nervous.”

“I’m sure you are. It’s always intimidating to go into the studio for the first time. But remember, you aren’t expected to come in with all your shit perfectly put together. Life has thrown you for a loop recently. Lean into that pain. Use it to create some really amazing music. And I mean, based on the stuff you sent me, it seems like that’s what you’ve already done.”

The truth is, sure, I’m still upset over Theo and the bullshit he put me through. But most of what I’m dealing with right now is not about the man I was in a relationship with for three years.

It’s about Memphis. The man I’ve known for two weeks.

And that’s something I don’t really know how to explain.

Nor do I want to try.

“I’m sure it’ll go great,” I say, trying to put some enthusiasm in my tone.

Todd laughs. “Look, take some time tonight, review your music, feel the feels. And then bring that in tomorrow. I promise you, it’ll be worth it.”

We get off the phone, and I give myself until the end of my glass of wine to sit outside and stew. To ponder the unfairness of it all. Then I make a promise to go over every single song that we’ve been considering for the album.

My emotions are fragile as I strum the guitar, trying to infuse the right emotions into the right moments. And I do what Todd suggests. I let myself feel the feels.

When I pull open the door for the music studio in Century City where I’m scheduled to lay down my first track on Monday morning, I’m still emotional and still nervous, but more in control.

The nerves are unfamiliar. I can stand up on a stage and sing my heart out. I can lead presentations, talk in front of groups, go live on social media ... I mean, anything, really.

But this is different.

I’ve never gone into a real, honest-to-goodness studio. So after I worked through my songs, I lay in bed late into the night readingthroughwhat to expect the first time you have studio timeposts online, and I felt like I’d be prepared.

But the nerves are still here.

And I’m realizing it has more to do with the actual music I’m hoping to record than it is about the studio time itself. Todd really liked the snippets I sent to him, but it’s hard to know how the songs will land with a manager or label when it comes time to lay down the tracks.

Todd is sitting on the couch in the recording room when I get there, and his boss, Jonas, is at the soundboard next to Richie, the producer who will be working on all the tech stuff that doesn’t make sense to me.

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