Page 114 of Perfect Composition
“Yes?”
“The joy you brought to my life outweighs any pain. Now. Always. You’re my music, Austyn.”
She sniffs on the other end of the line. “I love you, Mama.”
“I love you too. See you Saturday.” Pulling the phone away from my ear, I press End, feeling stronger than I have in a long while.
But I still have one more call to make.
Bolstered by the last one, I dial a number I’ve had memorized since I was a little girl. I don’t press the button to connect the call.
For just a moment, I think about the ways I tried to make my father proud. From good grades and joining the right clubs to helping around the house and farm, I was supposed to be a child who made mistakes. I should have known—just as Austyn did—that I could turn to my father in my time of need.
Instead, systematically he’s ripped everything I’d come to depend on. First, by causing Beckett to leave. Then by lying to me about him not being able to be found. And constantly by making me feel less. By not loving me the same because I came after my mother died.
Still, there’s something my father needs to know.
I can’t prevent the shudder that crawls through me when I hear his voice boom out, “Paigey? About damn time you called. This nurse won’t listen to a damn thing. Anyway…”
I let him rant on about the round-the-clock nurse I hired to help him around the house while he recovers from his heart surgery. When he starts to wind down, he finally observes, “You haven’t said much.”
“That’s because I only have one thing to say.” My voice, thankfully, is calm.
“Then say it,” he snaps.
I don’t even hesitate. “I forgive you.” Then before he can form a sentence, I hang up and immediately block his number. “But right now, I can’t quite forget. Maybe if you loved me for me, I would have had enough confidence in me, in him.” I glance down at a phone that hasn’t buzzed in weeks. Not with a news alert, not with anything.
“I’ll work on it though.” And I pull up the hospital app to send a message to Alice to tell her how my conversations went before I check out the room I’d initially designated as Austyn’s to see what I need to do to prepare it for her visit.
BECKETT
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Something must be wrong. Normally, this is when Beckett Miller announces his spring tour, but there’s nothing on his website. Don’t let me down, man.
— @PRyanPOfficial
“So, I’m going to have to break the contract,” I explain to Carys in her office. For the first time in forever, I feel like the aging rocker I actually am. I barely remembered to shrug on a coat on top of the sleeveless tee and torn jeans I’ve been wearing the last three days. Or maybe it’s been longer? I don’t know, and I don’t really care.
I just want to get this business over with so I can go back to doing exactly what I did yesterday. Nothing. I figure if I do itlong enough, I’ll get lost in the moment forever. Then when I close my eyes, I won’t see the wretched pain in Paige’s.
She tries to argue with me. “Why don’t I get an extension? I mean, it’s not like Simon and Evangeline had a hard deadline in the original.”
“Do you think I could compose anything right now?” I ask just as the hair along the back of my neck raises.
“Dad! Where are you?” Austyn shouts from beyond the closed doors. “I know you’re here. I followed you from the penthouse since I’ve been blocked from seeing you!”
I leap from my seat and make it to the door before Carys even has a chance to respond to that. Flinging her door open wide, Austyn collapses into my arms. “Why are you panting like this? And what do you mean, not seeing you? We text all the time. Why the hell wouldn’t I see you? I thought you weren’t coming to visit me because of your mother,” I growl.
“You try getting past your goon squad. Apparently you told them ‘no visitors.’ You didn’t add the caveat, ‘except my beautiful, brilliant daughter!’” Austyn snaps.
Suddenly, a ray of light pierces the darkness I’ve been living in. I gather her close, ignoring the gagging sounds she immediately begins to make. “I’m so sorry, kid. It’s been a rough couple of weeks. I never imagined…”
“Yeah, well, you’ve got nothing on Mama. Your actions have done nothing but make you an ass,” my daughter informs me.
I jerk back. “Excuse me?”
“Can you explain more clearly, Austyn?” Carys, bless her, steps in.
