Page 97 of Broken Bridges

“I’m still here in LA. We’ll see each other. I promise. This is a huge change, but it’s the right decision. I don’t want to tell the studio I’m not re-signing until next month when our contracts are up for renewal. So please keep this quiet for now.” She rubbed her hands together. “But enough exciting news for one day. Let’s order dinner. I’m starving. What’s on the menu?”

I’d like that to be Tia.

But that would have to wait.

And just when everything seemed to take a step forward and life was sorting itself out, the following morning, Emilio texted again:

baby, pls call me. you’re all I think about.

we can be happy together.

I want to come see you.

love you, em

Fuck. Fuck. FUCK!

I ignored it.

Over the next few days, Tia and I fell into a routine at home. Every morning when Cole went out running, Tia snuck into my bed. We fooled around, went to work, occasionally saw each other for dinner, crashed in our separate rooms each night, and set repeat.

But I wasn’t a morning person.

By nine a.m. each day, I headed out with the guys. As we were driven to meetings and photoshoots and rehearsals for the album launch, I tried to catch some naps, but the growing hype and excitement around our schedule made it near impossible.

Despite the long days, I stayed true to my word and snuck in two dates with Tia when Cole headed out to catch up with some girls. We went to the Break Room in North Hollywood. Tia smashed the shit out of everything—plates, cups, bottles, even an old desk. The second outing was an evening picnic on the beach. Both were awesome nights.

But I was exhausted before the promo had even started.

The day before we headed to New York, Cole and I headed to Flint’s for one last practice session. In the studio, I picked up my acoustic bass and hooked the strap over my head. I rubbed the stinging sleep from my eyes. I’d caught a couple more hours of dozing after Tia had left this morning, but it hadn’t been enough. Every bone and muscle in my body ached.

I’d brought up the idea of telling everyone with her again this morning. I wanted to leap. She’d been adamant about taking it slow. Tia? Slow? I’d never thought I’d see the day.

We were more than lust-crazed lovers. I knew we were. I was just impatient.

Our deadline couldn’t come soon enough.

Flint pulled up a stool beside his mic. “Let’s nail the stripped-down version of the new single.”

Slip grabbed his acoustic guitar and sat cross-legged on the floor. Cole fetched a single snare drum and his sticks.

Just as we were about to play, my cell phone pinged. I yanked it out of my pocket, hoping for some sexy text from Tia, but no...It was from Emilio. Shit! I clenched my hand around my cell phone and closed my eyes. A tornado of turmoil tumbled through my head. My heart hurt.

This had to stop.

I typed out a reply:

stop texting. we are over.

Letting out a slow breath, I tucked my cell phone away, cleared my head, and set my fingers over my strings to play. I glanced at the guys who were waiting for me. “Sorry. I’m good.”

“Let’s roll.” Flint tapped his fingers against his guitar. “One. Two. Three.”

Slip led with the intro. I was quick to join in, but I lacked concentration. Tia’s reluctance to tell the guys still ate at my insides and knotted my gut. The texts trickling in from Emilio tainted my veins. I was over secrets, my ex, and delays.

I needed a fucking decent sleep.

As the stripped back tune filled the room, Flint’s deep voice haunted the air.

---