Good Girl (Love Unexpectedly 2)

“Actually, no,” I say before he can move away. “This one releases as is. No changes.”

He frowns a little. I don’t play that card often. Once on each album, maybe. Musicians who write their own music these days are rare, and even those of us who do aren’t opposed to suggestions…most of the time.

But this one is different.

This one is mine, all mine.

Well, mine and Noah’s.

“All right, sweetheart, let’s hear it,” Tatum says, pulling up a chair on the other side of the glass as an assistant brings me my guitar.

I take a deep breath as I put the strap over my shoulder, pulling up a stool and settling in.

Now, don’t you freak out on me, thinking I’m singing a love song for a lying jerk like Noah Maxwell.

It’s a ballad, yes, but not above love.

This is a farewell. A song about goodbye.

“What are we calling this, babe?” Tatum asks, pencil ready.

I swallow. “It’s called ‘Shoulda Kissed Me.’?”

He nods as he jots it down, then motions for me to continue. Whenever you’re ready.

I’m ready. Ready to say goodbye.

You know that numbness I talked about? The nothingness that has been following me around since I left Louisiana?

It’s gone now. It all fades away as I lose myself in the song.

By the time I finish the song, tears are streaming down my face, and I don’t bother to wipe them away.

Tatum looks a little stunned, as does everyone else in the booth.

He slowly reaches out a finger to switch the microphone back on, leaning down to speak into it. “Congratulations, babe. I think we just found our lead single. Any objections to rushing this one to the airwaves? People miss you, babe.”

Whatever. Don’t care.

The one person I actually want to miss me probably doesn’t even notice I’m gone.

Noah

I’m having déjà vu.

The bad kind.

My head’s under a sink, nasty water keeps leaking on my face from an ancient pipe, and my two best friends are squabbling like a married couple.

“Somehow this feels unfair,” Finn says, going to the window of the bedroom and glaring down at my new Ford. “I lend you my truck for two fucking months, and how do you repay me? You get a better truck.”

“I didn’t hear you complaining when you were borrowing a car whose air-conditioning actually worked for that entire time,” Vaughn says. I glance down at my feet to see Ranger’s tail going crazy, and I know Vaughn’s just shared a piece of his nasty organic protein bar.

“Be honest, Country Club, how old were you when the doctor pulled the silver spoon out of your ass? I think they waited too long.”

“You know that things like AC and toilet paper are no longer considered luxuries, right?” Vaughn asks.

“Wish I woulda known that when I used all those fancy papers from your briefcase to wipe my ass.”