Page 52 of P.S. I Miss You

He’s quiet for a minute, thought I can make out sounds from the tour bus in the background. People talking. Doors opening and closing. Beer cans hissing.

“Maybe you’re tired?” I ask. “Maybe you should take a couple days off from partying and … I don’t know … deal with whatever it is that’s bothering you. I feel like soul searching after, like, five Jager bombs is probably a really bad idea.”

“I miss the local scene, you know? Small bars. Same faces every weekend. No need for security.”

“Nick, get some sleep. We’ll talk about this when you’re sober.”

“It’s just …” he continues, ignoring me. “I look at Adam with his insane bank account and his supermodel wife and millions of screaming fans and I have to ask myself … is that what I really want?”

“Yeah, you have to ask yourself—”

“No, Melrose. The answer is no.”

“Okay.” I lie on my bed, shoving the suitcase out of the way. If he needs to let it out, then by all means. “Go on.”

“I thought I did,” he says. “For the longest time, I really thought that’s what I wanted. And I was embarrassed about it. That’s why I never told anyone. But now? Now that I’ve seen everything up close? It’s all a fucking facade. These people aren’t happy, they’re pretending to be happy. Where’s the meaning in any of it?”

“The meaning is in the entertainment value.”

“No, I mean …” Nick’s voice trails. “I feel like I’m not making any sense.”

“It’s okay. You’re drunk.”

I hear him laugh through his nose.

“I wish you were here.” His voice is low, like the words he’s saying are solely meant for my ears. “You always make everything better, Mel. You always have.”

Staring at the ceiling, I think back to our younger days. Childhood is meant to be carefree, nothing but long summer days by the pool and riding bikes down the street and letting popsicle juice drip down our chins.

But Nick didn’t have that.

His parents fought nonstop.

Every day.

Every night.

That’s what happens when you have two hotheaded, artistic types with raging insecurity streaks and an odd competitive component to their marriage.

I didn’t realize it until years later, but the reason he gave me his other walkie-talkie shortly after we first became friends was so he’d have someone to talk to at night … so he could drown out the screaming match that always seemed to be a precursor to bedtime.

His music was his escape.

I was his distraction.

And his band, Melrose Nights, was a culmination of the two.

“Get some sleep, okay?” I switch my phone to the opposite ear. “I promise your life is going to make more sense after a good night’s rest. And don’t think too hard about things. It’ll just make you crazy.”

“Yeah, yeah. All right.”

“I mean it, Nick. Get some sleep. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

“Melrose?”

“Yes?”

“I miss you.”

“I know. I miss you too.”

I end the call and dock my phone on the charger. Now I’m worried. He’s never sounded so blue before, so conflicted. He should be having the time of his life, but instead it’s like he’s doubting everything he’s ever wanted for himself, second-guessing his life choices.

That’s not the Nick I know.

The lock on the bathroom door pops, and I peer past my doorway in time to get a glimpse of Sutter with a towel wrapped low on his hips making his way to his room.

Funny how a month ago, I was freaking out about his indecency, and now I’d give anything to sneak a peek at that fine derriere of his.

Making my way to his door, I give it a light rap with my knuckles and bite away a smile as I wait.

I ANSWER THE KNOCK at my door, one hand loosely gripping the knotted towel at my waist, the other hand braced against the door.

“Hey,” she says, full mouth twisted at the side as her eyes sparkle.

I know that look.

I know what she came for.

She’s not getting it.

“Hey,” I say.

She glances over my shoulder. “What … are you doing?”

“Heading out,” I say.

Her expression falls. “Yeah?”

“Meeting some friends for a beer.”

Melrose squints, almost like she’s waiting for an invite that never comes.

She asked me earlier about her mystery question. And I was going to tell her. I figured at that point I had nothing to lose, and her cousin seemed pretty convinced the feeling was mutual.

But then Nick called.

And I watched her smile grow from big to bigger.

I watched her plop down on her bed and settle in for a long conversation.

I heard her infectious laugh through the walls.

If it’s true that Melrose has a thing for guys she can’t have … then she must have a thing for Nick.

She’s wanted him her entire life, I bet.

Her best friend.

Her confidant.

Her everything.

And he’s always been out manwhoring around, refusing to stay in one place with one girl a minute longer than he has to.

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