Page 124 of Loaded

Ardath and I have never said more than three words to each other, even at family dinners. She’s not the most talkative. Honestly, I’ve never seen her talk to Bea either, or heard them chatting on the phone. “That would be. . .”

“Weird,” Jake says.

I nod. “Yeah, Ardath kind of scares me.”

He chuckles. “Me too.”

“I’ll have to go in blind.”

Jake nods. “I know she cares a lot about you, and I think that, even if she isn’t ready, it’s got to be nice to know you are.”

“She told you I said I love you first.”

His smirk confirms it.

“I’m not chill,” I say. “I have no coolness, not anywhere inside of me.”

“I mean, you’re a cool guy, but yeah, you’re pretty tightly wound.”

“I don’t even know what kind of ring to get her.”

“Now, there, you have a secret weapon, right?”

I have no idea what he means.

“You have a sister.”

“But not all girls like the same things.”

Jake groans. “This stuff is too hard.”

But I do have an idea, so I decide to run with it. “You said you’d rather I not be involved in the initial presentation, right?”

Jake narrows his eyes. “This is going somewhere interesting, I can tell.”

I hope he’s right.

But most of all, I hope that Bea’s real mom was able to repair the damage her birth mom did. I really hope Bea doesn’t just turn me down flat. I’m not one hundred percent positive that’s something I can recover from—a complete rejection. Which means that proposing carries a real risk, because in my entire life, I’ve never wanted someone to say yes more.

25

BEA

It takes three days for her to pick up my calls, and more than two weeks for Octavia to finally come over and meet me before work to try a new song. When she walked through the door, she acted like nothing had ever happened. I almost insisted that we talk through things, but then I decided I’d let her lead this part. It’s not my wound.

“You know, some people can go weeks or even months without having a new song idea,” she says.

“People can, I guess,” I say. “But not me.”

“So you’re saying your whole life. . .”

“I’ve had songs rolling around in my head.”

“What did you do with them?”

I take three steps and kick a box in the corner.

“Wait,” she says. “Are all of those. . .” Her eyebrows rise.

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