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Once I get home, the dress taken care of, I have to start working on my wedding gift. But before I can focus, I need to get the details of the song I wrote and plan to submit down on paper. I arranged to meet with Octavia tomorrow morning to record it for the contest. Once I get it reduced to notes and words on a page, I sit back and sigh with relief.

But then I stare at the piano, completely devoid of any ideas.

I’m going to show up at their wedding entirely emptyhanded, and probably emptyheaded, too. I whip out my phone and start googling wedding gift ideas, but within ten minutes I’m right back where I started. Bentley makes so much money that they can already buy whatever they want. After all the thoughtful gifts they’ve given me over the years, I havegotto come up with something good.

But by the time I have to change for work, I still have zero.

HEY. SO. CAN YOU PUT MY NAME ON THE POSTER?

Jake sends me a whole line of laughing emojis.

YOU SUCK.

More laughing faces. This time, with tears.

Bizarrely, work is slow, so I have plenty of time to fret over what I ought to give Aunt Barbara and Uncle Bentley. I mean, I know I should give them a song, but my brain’s just not engaging. Three songs in a week is alot, and I probably shouldn’t be annoyed that there’s not another one waiting in the wings, but here we are.

In between tables, I pull up my phone browser and manage to find an account on Etsy that paints portraits from photos. I shoot her a message and ask if she could do an expedited one. . .Since the image is digitally painted, I could probably have it printed before the wedding, if she did it quick. Thankfully, she replies. The cost is a little painful, but that’s on me for needing it done in days.

All in all, it’s not a terrible day at work. I’m changing for bed when a message comes through from Easton. SORRY—SLAMMED ALL DAY TODAY. SEE YOU IN THE MORNING?

CAN’T. MEETING OCTAVIA TO WORK ON OUR SONG.

OURSONG?

I haven’t really talked to anyone about it. I HATE PERFORMING. I’M WRITING A SONG, AND SHE’S HELPING. WE’LL PERFORM IT TOGETHER IF IT ADVANCES TO FINALS.

THAT’S A BRILLIANT IDEA. SHE HAD A NICE VOICE.

That’s like calling the David a ‘nice’ statue. Or saying the Mona Lisa was a ‘nice’ portrait, but I let it slide. For someone who’s not in the music world, ‘nice’ is probably a perfectly acceptable word. YES. YES, SHE DOES.

I MISSED YOU TODAY.

YOUR PEOPLE WERE GREAT. THAT LADY WAS LIKE WILLY WONKA, BUT INSTEAD OF CANDY, SHE MAKES MAGIC WITH CLOTH.

I ASSEMBLED A GOOD TEAM.

He did. I hadn’t really thought about it like that, but probably every person at that place was hired by him, orat least, hired by someone who was hired by him. The whole company is literally a thing that he built. It’s his song equivalent, only he’s not entering contests and hoping. He’s already won.

Again, I wonder why he likes me.

MAYBE I CAN BRING LUNCH BY FOR YOU TWO WHILE YOU WORK.

I do want to see his face. I’m just a little worried that the more time he spends with me, the more likely it becomes that he’ll realize I’m a loser and give up. I need to get over myself. If that’s going to happen, it’s going to happen. Even so, I wave him off this time. WHAT A NICE OFFER, BUT I DON’T THINK WE’LL HAVE TIME.

IN THE FUTURE, IF I DID BRING FOOD BY, WHAT WOULD YOU LIKE? THAI? SUSHI? PIZZA?

YES.

He sends me laughing emojis next.

I’M NOT SUPER PICKY, ESPECIALLY WHEN IT’S FREE.

PEANUT BUTTER AND JELLY IT IS.

The next morning, I wake up way too early, because the Gorgeous Monstrosity song keeps repeating over and over in my head. Before Octavia arrives, I’ve cleaned up the messy transition, added a harmonic uplift, and made all the changes on paper.

Which means, once we record, we’ll be ready to submit.

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