Page 30 of Tattoos and Heartbreak
“So what do you get when you’re getting a full breakfast?” she asked, her eyes going back to her menu.
I jerked a bit, surprised. My mind had been so caught up in black thoughts about my past that I’d thought for sure she’d have asked something serious. The light question about breakfast was unexpected.
It was also perfectly Lila.
“Pancakes,” I said immediately. “When I grew up... Well, I didn’t get them often, and since I got old enough to order them for myself, they’re pretty much all I’ll eat for breakfast.”
She looked up and I saw the question in her eyes about why I hadn’t had them when I was a kid. What sort of upbringing could possibly have resulted in me not being allowed pancakes. Any normal person would have asked. They would have pressed for details long past what I was willing to give, and made it awkward and horrible.
Instead, she leaned toward me and narrowed her eyes. “Chocolate chip or regular?”
I leaned in as well, suppressing a smile. “Regular. Putting anything in hotcakes ruins them.”
She laughed at that, her voice loud and joyous, and nodded. “A true connoisseur, I see. At some point I’ll need to take you home for my mother’s pancakes. I’ve been ordering them in restaurants for years and have never found anyone else who could top her.”
Okay, I hadn’t expected that, either, and I didn’t want to think too hard about the fact that she thought she was going to take me home to her parents. Her family in Nashville, with their big house and traditional values and pancakes for breakfast. Everything normal and good about a family.
It wasn’t for me. But I also wasn’t going to discount the idea that it might be, one day.
Instead, I waved the waitress over and ordered us both a stack of pancakes. Lila added eggs and bacon to hers and I added hash browns, and we both laughed and agreed to sample what the other had ordered just in case we liked it better.
And from there, the conversation went on to the song we’d sang together on stage and how Lila might come up on stage some nights to perform with my band. She thought it would give Taylor a chance to really fall in love with her and asked if Anna could come, too, and I laughed and told her that they were going to take over my band before too long and the guys would forget all about me.
Before long, the conversation was so normal and friendly that I forgot all about trying to apologize to her. She didn’t seem like she needed it, and if she had questions about me or my past... well, I figured she’d ask them on her own time.
And then, right as I was starting to think this might all be just fine, and that we might be okay, someone stopped next to our table.
“Lila! Thanks so much for your advice last night. I had the best time.”
I looked up, confused, to see the guy she’d been talking to during the show last night. The guy I’d called her away from, my heart burning with jealousy and the need to have her all to myself.
The guy I’d forgotten about until right now.
All the good feelings disappeared in a puff of smoke and I felt my hands squeezing into fists. This guy had just interrupted our breakfast—which I was sure the photographers were shooting—to what, remind her that she’d given him good advice last night? What sort of advice had she given him? Had she seen him again? Maybe after we got off the stage?
Some small, rational part of my brain said that she’d probably given him advice that didn’t mean anything. What sort of drink to get or which band he should stick around for. She wasn’t the sort of girl who went beyond that with a stranger, I didn’t think.
And yet, the larger part of my brain said, she’d gone farther than that with me. And I’d thought I’d been special.
Maybe I wasn’t.
I got up without saying anything, threw some cash down on the table, and stalked away. I didn’t want the drama of caring so much about a girl I didn’t know that well. I didn’t want the danger of hurting her by caring for her.
And I didn’t want to risk her happiness—or my own—by keeping this going. Sure, I’d told Taylor I would. My spot on this tour depended on it. But surely we’d done enough by now. I’d taken about a million photographs and had her up on stage with me, for God’s sake.
Taylor could take that as good enough.
I was done putting myself out there and getting hurt.
LILA
Iwatched him walk out, my jaw practically on the table in shock.
“Sorry, did I interrupt something?” the guy from last night asked.
I looked up at him, only now remembering that he was there and that he’d said something to me. Something about advice, wasn’t it?
“No, it’s fine,” I said faintly. “Um, you’re welcome.”
