Page 109 of Harrison's Wedding

Xavier Reid’s voice comes through the line, and I cringe. He’s calling to ask for the guitar back and to confirm the end of our partnership.

“Yes, it is,” I confirm, deciding not to give away that I know who it is.

Every second he has to spend explaining who’s calling is a second longer before I hear the news.

“It’s Xavier Reid. We’ve emailed you several times, and it’s urgent that we get your feedback on the guitar. I understand you’ve had some”—he pauses for a second, apparently trying to word it delicately—“personal issues. We’re happy to push back the release a month or so, but if we’re still going to do the clinics, we can’t give you any more than that. It means we need the feedback pretty much immediately, though.”

I’m unable to reply. They still want to work with me. Their first email came through, marked as urgent, right when everyone else was canceling, and I just assumed.

“Are you still there, Harrison?”

“Yes, I am. I just—you still want to work with me? After…” I trail off.

Xavier sighs. “Yes, we do. I’m guessing you thought we wanted to cancel?”

“You’ve read the news articles.” I cringe.

There have been plenty. Every brand that dropped Cruise Control came along with a big rehash of what happened and speculation that it was the reason we were being dropped.

“There’s no point in pretending that I haven’t,” Xavier says bluntly. “However, we’ve had very few cancelations for the clinics, and pre-orders for the guitar are still strong. We just need you to do your part.”

“Of course. I took notes when I used it to recordGames We Play,” I tell him. “I was going to send them to you when we finished, but then…”

“I understand. Well, send them through and we can get production started.” He pauses for a moment and then says, “I hope you’re okay, Harrison. I was sorry to hear about what happened.”

He doesn’t know the half of it. The knowledge that my engagement is officially over as of a few hours ago comes rushing back to me, washing away any excitement I’d been feeling about our deal still being on.

“Thanks,” I mumble, unable to say anything more.

We wrap up the call quickly after that, and I stare at the phone. I want to be excited, and for a moment, I was. Now, that’s been buried in an avalanche of hurt, and I drop my head to my hands and cry. After some time, I pull myself together and get my laptop out.

I can’t fuck this up. So, I open my email and look at the ones from Reid Music. The first was from Felicity and didn’t mention anything about what happened. The last two were from Xavier. The first danced around what happened, and the second asked if I was still interested in working with them. He reiterated both times that they still wanted to work with me.

I open the document with my notes from when we were recording and send the reply, apologizing profusely for the delay and copying in Felicity so she’ll get the information at once.

Once the email is sent, though, I’m left with no distraction from the knowledge that my relationship is over. The memory of Heather crying as she handed me her ring hits me, and I fight back tears again. I sigh heavily, because I need to get my mind off what happened today.

I search the apartment and find Hayden playing pool against himself in his games room. I walk in as he hits the blue number ten with the white ball, and it bounces off the pocket and ricochets around the table.

I’m on edge, and I want to get out of here. I think that if I stay here, I’ll spend the entire evening thinking about Heather.

“Let’s go to Club Delirium tonight,” I announce.

Hayden jumps and looks up at me. “Oh god, I didn’t see you come in. Did you say you want to go to Club Delirium?”

“Yeah, I need to get drunk.” I shrug.

“That’s not a good idea,” Hayden says.

“Probably not, but I want to go anyway. My fiancée broke up with me today, and I want to go out and forget about it.”

He doesn’t reply straight away, but his tone is solemn when he does. “The paparazzi will be all over you, Harrison.”

“What do I care? The fucking paparazzi can’t do anything to me, now. Heather’s already broken up with me.” I give an acidic laugh.

“Just think about it. I know things are shit right now, but you’ll make it worse if you go out in public tonight.” Hayden’s eyebrows have knit together in a frown.

“I’m going to go get dressed. You can come with me or not, I guess. But I’m going either way,” I tell him.

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