Page 10 of No More Love Songs

Kit makes a sound like he’s about to say something, but when I turn to look at him, he seems to regret having made any noise at all.

“You have your doubts,” I say out loud what he’s obviously thinking.

“Not doubts,” he insists. “I just wonder if it’s more a matter of getting reacquainted with yourself rather than the new music. You’re clearly going through some sort of transition if love songs aren’t your jam anymore. Maybe the part of you trying to surface through your music now deserves a little more time and attention before you force it to make its big debut.”

I make a face. Grayson is usually good about showing me my blind spots, but even he hasn’t said anything this insightful since I dumped all my new songs into his lap. I crinkle my nose and twitch it back and forth, displeased with the direction this conversation took. “Next time you hire a musician, I want one that doesn’t speak English.”

Kit laughs. Wise and a sense of humor. I can see why Grayson is friends with him. He’s our kind of people.

Which does raise one more question. “How come we’ve never met before now? I mean, I get that work-wise things haven’t lined up before this album, but you two have a personal relationship, you’re friends. And I’m...” I’m not sure where I’m going with this. In the middle of everything my brother and Grayson attempt to do with their private lives? That’s not exactly a flattering statement about me. Though it’s undeniably and uncomfortably true.

“I don’t come into the city much,” Kit fills me in, saving me from having to explain myself. “My place is up in the foothills.”

“And we only invite friends over when you’re on tour,” Grayson adds the most important part.

“Rude.”

“That you have no respect for boundaries?” Grayson nods to answer his own question. “Yes, very.”

I sigh. Now that I’ve been blasted with multiple truth bombs, my energy levels are taking a dive beyond even what coffee could restore. “So, I owe you an apology.”

“Since when?” Grayson laughs at the suggestion.

“Not you. Kit,” I inform him indignantly. “Our boundary issue goes both ways, I’m not about to say sorry for something we mutually agreed to. You know, in unspoken terms.”

Kit frowns. “Why are you apologizing to me? Seems to me, I’ve been the one upsetting you, not the other way around.”

“You didn’t upset me as much as you ripped off a band-aid I didn’t realize I was wearing.” I stop to think over what I’ve just said. “I’m not sure that made sense. But I have a feeling you know what I mean.” I shake my head trying to arrange my thoughts back into order. “In any event, I think we need to reschedule out session for another day.”

“You don’t want to do the song now?” Grayson asks, sounding as surprised as I feel by my own decision. “You’ve been obsessed with this song since you came up with the chorus.”

“Yeah,” I agree. “But I think maybe that’s the problem. I’m obsessed with it. I’m not in love with it.”

Kit takes another drink of his coffee, but he’s not fast enough to hide the smug smile that crept onto his face while we were talking.

“So, what now? We’re not knocking the album out in ten days?” Grayson seems worried by the thought.

“I know it screws up the timeline for the deal we made with Janelle,” I admit. “But this is my life. I can’t make these decisions based on some spur of the moment deal we made while I was starving, and Janelle was stuffing falafel in her face.”

Apparently, we’ve piqued Kit’s curiosity. “What deal is this?”

“To get her manager to agree to pitch the new concept to the label, Skylar had to concede to give us thirty days to help her fall back in love with love.”

Kit’s brow furrows. “Wait, so it’s love you’re done with? Not love songs.”

“They kind of go hand in hand.” I kind of thought that part was obvious.

“If you think that, that may be part of your problem.” He chuckles, like he’s laughing at me. He’s definitely our kind of people. Even if I’m not sure I like him very much at this very moment.

“And what do you know about it, country boy?” I scoff. I kind of hate how coupled up people always think they have a better understanding of love than us poor dejected folk who wound up eternally tainted by divorce. “You probably married your high school sweetheart and lived happily ever after in fairy tale cottage in the mountains. Pretty easy to think you have a deep understanding of love when you’ve always had it, doesn’t mean you do though. You only know one side of it.”

I can hear Grayson clear his throat followed by the sound of his chair sliding a few inches away from the table.

“Actually,” Kit says, sitting up a little straighter. “I’m divorced like you. I married a woman I met on the road in my twenties,” he pauses, probably to make a point because I also married a man I met while on the road, and in my twenties, “and our happy ever after lasted about two seconds before I found out she was cheating on me the entire time. Then she decided taking responsibility for her choices wasn’t fun and left. Me and our daughter.” He taps the side of his mug with his fingertips, but his eyes stay locked on mine. “After that, I gave up on the idea of falling in love with a woman and decided to fall in love with life instead. My daughter. Nature. Music. My work out at the lodge. Loads of ways to fall in love out there, just our narrow minds being brainwashed by commercialism keeping us locked on the one because it’s most profitable. When it succeeds as well as when it fails.”

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KIT

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