Love Song (Stage Dive 4.70) - Page 4

“Unless of course when you were talking about the songs being written about the most important and meaningful relationship you’d ever been in, the love of your life that broke your heart into a million tiny little razor-edged pieces, you didn’t in fact mean me. Was that it?”

He scowled, appearing truly put out. “You know I meant you.”

“Wow. Now we’re getting somewhere. Okay,” I said through gritted teeth. “Is this the same relationship where you sprinkled your assorted crap throughout the entire apartment like an indie-rock trash fairy, contributed to household finances solely in the form of cold leftover pepperoni pizza, and missed my birthday dinner because someone invited you to jam at the last minute?”

“I already apologized for that. And you like pizza!”

Bon turned a chuckle into a cough in the front seat. Very professionally done.

I just groaned. “Tell me you’ve achieved some small modicum of personal growth involving some healthy self-realization in the last year. Please.”

Streetlights and nighttime traffic flowed by outside as we made our way through Portland’s downtown area. I’d heard he had an apartment nearby in the Pearl District. If you wanted hip clothes, restaurants, or just the best bookshop in the entire world, it was the place to be. Not that I could afford it, usually.

And all the while, Adam just sat there, watching me with his dark eyes. “You’re still angry, huh?”

“Still angry? No, I was coasting along just fine with simmering resentment until your check arrived, resulting in this conversation and your half-assed denials. Now I’m furious.”

“Miss Schwartz,” said Bon from the front of the vehicle. “While I realize that my client has given you a certain cause for anger.

I’d ask that you not assault him while we’re in a moving vehicle. It’s dangerous for everyone involved.”

“I’m not going to hit him,” I answered, outraged. “I’m a pacifist.”

He just nodded toward the two clenched fists sitting in my lap.

“Oh. We’re just talking. Civilly. Sort of.” Slowly, I stretched out my fingers, rubbing them against the legs of my black skinny jeans. “I’m a very nice person once you get to know me.”

“Of course you are, miss.”

“I’ve never hit anyone in my life.” I frowned. “Where was I?”

“Didn’t we already have this fight when you threw me out?” asked Adam, shoving a frustrated hand through his long hair. Which was seriously long, by the way. Nearing Rapunzel status. It didn’t look as if he’d cut it in forever.

I thought his question over, tapping a finger thoughtfully against my lips. “No. That was a different one. You’ve fucked up in multiple and unforeseen ways since then. It’s mind-blowing, really.”

He just sighed.

“You’d mentioned that Adam failed to pick up his shit, never paid for anything, and missed your birthday dinner,” supplied Mac in a cheerful tone. “Not much of a surprise that you kicked him out, if you ask me. He was asking for it.”

Adam slumped back in the seat with a groan. “Remind me why I pay you again, Mac?”

“You pay me to drive,” answered the chauffeur. “My opinions, however, are my own and thrown in for free. You’re welcome.”

“Great.”

“Honest to God, I gave him so many chances, Mac. You wouldn’t believe it.” I took a deep breath and refocused on the cause of all of my aggravation. “And here’s the bit that gets me. If I really was this great love of your life, Adam, the one that rocked you to your core, worthy of writing all of these horrendous yet strangely catchy tunes about, then why did you never tell me you loved me?”

At that, he froze in terror once more. If we hadn’t been speeding down a busy street, he might have made a move for the door, thrown himself out, and taken his chances with the oncoming traffic. The man looked that desperate.

“You’ve told every music journalist on the planet, it seems. Screamed it from the stage in every other song. Heck, the word even made the title of Lovestricken. But you never told me, not even once.” My eyes started to itch for some weird reason. Let’s not question why. “Why is that exactly?”

He pressed his lips into a tight line. “Can’t you just take the check and call it an apology?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you loved me?”

“We’ve been over for ages. Why does this even matter?”

“Well, it matters because you’ve been talking about me and singing about me pretty much constantly for a while now, Adam. Makes it kind of hard to put everything in the past, in all honesty.”

Tags: Kylie Scott Stage Dive Book Series
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