Page 2 of The Ballad of Us
What in the hell is going on?
A brunette with cat-eyeglasses appears beside me like she materialized from thin air, her clipboard and pen in hand. "Hey, Rhea! I'm Diana. I have an NDA and other paperwork that requires your signature. Mind taking care of that for us?"
I lean closer, lowering my voice beneath the general chaos. "I already signed an NDA with Requiem when I started. Why do I need another one?"
Diana's laugh is warm but knowing. "They didn't tell you about the tour?"
The words hit me like ice water. "What tour?"
"Case in Point needs a tour assistant." She says it like it's the most obvious thing in the world, as if I should have somehow known this was coming.
"I'm not a tour assistant." The protest comes out sharper than I intend. "I work in communications. I've never even been on a tour."
Diana's expression shifts, becoming more serious as she studies my face. Without a word, she wraps her fingers around my elbow and guides me out of the room. I don't resist. I need air and space to think, anything to escape the suffocating weight of all those eyes watching my every move.
She leads me across the floor to a bathroom that's more like a luxury spa than a corporate restroom. The sitting area is furnished with Queen Anne chairs and antique settees that cost more than my car. Diana settles me into one of the settees and crouches down to meet my eyes.
"How old are you?" she gently prods.
"Twenty-six." The defensiveness in my tone isn’t easy to hide.
"Kids? Is anyone depending on you?"
"No, but?—"
She cocks her head to the side and lifts a brow. "Boyfriend?"
"No, but?—"
"Pets?"
I sound pathetic even to myself. "No."
Diana rocks back on her heels, studying me with an expression usually reserved for solving puzzles. "Girl, do you understand what just happened in there? You've been handed a golden ticket. There are six gorgeous, talented men who need someone they can trust, and they want to trust you. This is the opportunity of a lifetime, but you're sitting here looking like someone just told you the world is ending. Do you know what this could do for your career? Case in Point could establish you as one of the elite in Nashville."
I worry my bottom lip, my mind racing through all the reasons this is a terrible idea. "I can't just drop everything and go on tour. I have a life here. Responsibilities."
"What responsibilities? You just told me you have no attachments. No one depends on you. What's really stopping you?" Diana's tone isn't unkind, but it's direct.
The question hits deeper than she probably intends.
What is stopping me?
Fear, maybe. The knowledge that I've spent years building walls around myself, creating a safe, predictable life where no one can hurt me.
"I need stability, structure—a routine I can count on."
"Honey, life isn't about playing it safe. It's about taking chances when they're handed to you. Do you know how many women would kill to be in your position right now? And you're sitting here ready to throw it away because it's not part of your five-year plan?" The disappointment is more than apparent in her tone.
Before I can respond, the bathroom door opens, and Gray Garrison walks in.
Time seems to slow as our eyes meet. His silvery-blue gaze widens in surprise at finding two women in what he clearly thought was an empty space.
"Shit. Sorry," he says, already backing toward the door.
"You're fine." Diana waves him in. "We're just having a heart-to-heart. Want to help me convince Rhea here that touring with Case in Point isn't the worst thing that could happen to her?"
She shoots me a wink that's part conspiracy, part challenge, then she heads for the door. "I'll be back in a few minutes to finish the paperwork."
