Wright that Got Away (Wright)

“Did you do this so that I’d stay?” he asked, gesturing to the pregnancy test.

Tears came to my eyes. “Do what?” I glanced down at the test. “You think it isn’t real?”

“I don’t know, Blaire. Fuck. You said you’d do anything to make me stay.”

“I said I’d leave for you,” I yelled back. “Why would I fucking fake this? What could I possibly gain? You’d hate me forever, and I’d deserve it. Instead, you’re being a total asshole.”

He shook his head and paced away from me. The news was sinking into him now. It was real to him, as it had been real to me since I had taken this test this morning. But he was still shaking his head. I knew then that the carefully optimistic fantasy I’d had in my head was never going to be a reality.

Campbell wasn’t going to stay for me. He wasn’t going to stay for the baby inside of me. He wasn’t going to stay for anything.

And he hadn’t.

He’d gone.

I’d stayed.

“It’s not the same,” I finally got out to my mother. “It won’t be the same as last time.”

She gave me a perfectly blank therapist look and held up her pen. “Tell me more about that.”

Which I knew, as well as she did, meant, You’re lying to yourself.

27

Campbell

We were a week away from returning to LA and only had about half an album. I had been working on new songs, but none of them were ready. At least we had a solid six with “The One That Got Away” as a strong seventh spot. It still wasn’t finished. I’d finally agreed to let the band hear the chorus and bridge I’d sung to Blaire. They’d all been pissed at me for not playing it for them earlier. But seven songs wasn’t an album. So, we were going to have to return home with a lot more work to do than I’d planned.

And Blaire had been…out of it the last couple days.

“You sure you’re okay?”

She glanced up at me from where she was seated with her laptop open. She was waiting for Honey to show up to the studio. She was going to work from here today while she recorded a few new videos and set up her calendar for when she was in LA with me. “Yeah. I’m fine. You can stop asking.”

But something wasn’t quite right. She was still in my bed every night, but I could tell that something was bothering her.

I dropped into the seat next to her. “You know you can tell me anything.”

She nodded. Then, with a heavy sigh, she took my hand. “I went and talked to my mom about us. She just upset me.”

“What did she say?” I asked, already getting defensive for her.

“Nothing that matters.”

“Blaire…”

“She just…she was there for me when I was…” She bit her lip and said the word neither of us had spoken, “Pregnant.”

“Oh.”

“She’s not a great mom, but she was in that one instance. And you were…”

“Gone.”

I kissed her fingers and mournfully looked up at her. “If I could change how it all happened, you know that I would. I’d go back in time and not be an utter jackass that night.”

“I know,” she whispered. “She just pushes all of my buttons.”

“Yeah, I get that. My dad is the same way.”

She nodded. “So, I’m in my own feels about it. Don’t worry about it. It’ll pass.” She drew me in for a kiss. “And you need to stop beating yourself up about the album.”

“I’m not beating myself up. I just thought I’d have all the songs ready.”

“You have seven songs. A month ago, you had zero. I think it’s okay to give yourself at least another month for the rest of the songs to come to you.”

She was right, of course. But I’d always worked in manic fits, and a part of me was worried that I’d already lost mine. It sounded ridiculous because that wasn’t how it worked every time. That didn’t mean my brain would listen when I told it that I’d figure it all out.

“All right. Sure. We still need to get ‘Tightrope’ just right anyway.”

“You’ll get it.” She turned back to her laptop. That far, distant look in her eyes again. Fuck. I hated that. “When is everyone else showing up?”

I glanced down at my phone. “Should be any minute. West is getting everything set up.”

And as if summoned, the rest of the band strode into the studio. Viv with a pointed yawn. Santi practically skipped in, clapping me on the back and offering a chipper, “Good morning.” Yorke said not a word, and Michael was on his phone.

“Tell Virginia I said hi,” I called to him.

He flipped me off and kept walking.

I chuckled. Viv smacked a kiss on my cheek.

“You ready to go, bro?” Santi asked. He bounced from foot to foot.