Page 108 of Harrison's Wedding

“You’re telling me,” I laugh bitterly. “Did you have fun in New York?”

He looks guilty as he replies, “Yeah, we did. Until this morning, of course.”

There’s a stabbing pain in my chest, and I can’t stop myself from seeking information that I know will make it worse. “What exactly happened?”

“She told me that she was going to end your engagement, and she cried most of the plane ride back to Chicago.”

I can practically see it in my mind’s eye. My angel in torment for the entirety of the plane ride from New York, and I’m grateful that she didn’t have to do it alone.

“Thank you for being there for her,” I tell him.

“You’re welcome. I love you both, and I hope you can get through this.”

I feel a chasm crack open inside me and sadness explodes from it because I have no hope for that happening. I’m exhausted from the emotions of the day, and I need some relief.

“Can you show me which room I’ll be in?” I ask in a cracked voice.

Hayden nods, then leads me to one of his guest bedrooms. “I’ll give you some time to put your things away. I’ll be out in the living area if you need me.”

“Thanks, bro,” I manage to say.

As soon as he closes the door behind him, I give way to the tears that have been threatening to fall. I sit on the bed and pull the ring box out of my pocket. I open it and stare at the ring. Images of Heather twisting it around on her finger absentmindedly come to my mind. It’s so strange that it’s not hers anymore. It belongs to her, but she doesn’t want it. Or me.

I snap the box shut so I can no longer look at it, and set the ring aside on the bed table next to me before I put my head into my hands and cry.

When I manage to get myself together, I slowly move about the room, putting my things away in drawers and hanging some clothes in the closet. I don’t like it. This feels like I’m moving in here, and I don’t want to. I want to be at home with Heather. At the same time, I know that I can’t be, and I can’t stand to live out of a suitcase when I’m not on tour.

I pull my phone out and search Heather’s name on the internet to read the news stories about her in New York, and I’m greeted with a new headline.

ARE SEBASTIAN FOX AND HEATHER YORK OFFICIAL?

I click the link to see a picture of Heather sitting in Sebastian’s Ferrari as they leave our apartment building. She’s wearing big, dark glasses so I can’t see her face, but sadness permeates from this picture. It’s in the way her mouth curves down slightly and her body language, with her shoulders drooping as she slumps against the seat behind her. It’s as though every spark of energy and life is gone.

Sebastian is glaring at the camera in the picture they’ve published. His jaw is tight, and his lips are thin with his nostrils flared. His anger at the intrusion on this moment is apparent, and I don’t blame him. He’s probably taking her to Galena, and I’m grateful that she’ll be safe and away from prying eyes and speculation, at least for a short time.

I save the picture and don’t bother reading the article. I know what it will say. The same thing they’ve been saying for months. I cheated on Heather because she was screwing Sebastian.

For a second, I wonder if I would feel worse or better if Heather had cheated on me. The thought of her with anyone else is devastating, and I don’t think that her having sex with someone else would make me feel better about what I did.

I feel uneasy, and I get up from the bed, then make my way to Hayden’s music room. I walk over to the acoustic guitar that’s there and pick it up, taking it to the sofa as I strum it. I begin to play “If I Were You” because it’s Heather’s song. It makes me feel connected to her, even though I’m not.

I move on to other songs, slowly letting my mind drift away as I play. Everything becomes a mess of chords and melodies as the music envelops me. I close my eyes and allow myself to feel it deep in my soul.

I start playing “Rules to Break,” and I’m reminded of the day we recorded it. The memories are painful, but I keep playing, and they wash through me along with the bittersweet feelings as I recall Heather’s delight at helping us to record.

I sing the chorus while remembering taking her upstairs. The image in my head of her on her knees in front of me causes my cock to stir in my pants, but I keep playing, feeling at ease with everything right now.

I move on to some of our older songs, remembering performances, writing them, recording them, but through all of this, Heather is there. She’s been such an integral part of Cruise Control, and I smile as I remember the way she nudged us into becoming a band in the first place.

I’m not sure how long I play for, but it’s dark outside when I leave the room, and I have a voicemail from Brendan checking in on me because Heather and I missed our appointment this afternoon. It’s as though the magic of the music room has worn off as soon as I leave it. Everything comes crashing back to me, and the pressure of it is intense as I remember that I’m no longer engaged.

I struggle against the pain and the memories of Heather looking beautiful and sad this morning as they flood through my mind. I pull my phone out and look at the picture of her and Sebastian from earlier. I hope he’s able to distract her tonight.

I head to my bedroom and sit on the edge of the bed, staring at the picture of Heather. She’s so beautiful and so sad; the pain cuts through me. As I stare at the screen, my phone starts ringing with a Chicago number that’s vaguely familiar. It’s obviously not in my phone, but I’m sure it’s one I should know, so I answer it.

“Hello?” I answer hesitantly.

“Harrison, is that you?”

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