Chapter 2

“I’d like peonies for my funeral,” I say gloomily. “Or roses. Either will work.”

Ashley snorts. “It’s December.”

“So?”

“So, both of those are out of season.” She plops a bottle of peppermint schnapps into the shopping basket I’m struggling to hold with the growing weight. “Oh, come on. Surely it wasn’t that bad?”

“You have met my parents before, haven’t you?”

Ashley rolls her eyes. “You mean the ones who practically raised Scott and me? Yeah, I have.”

She starts placing a collection of colorful cans into the cart, stretching on her tiptoes to reach the top shelf. A sales assistant shoots her a suspicious look, and I don’t blame him; with Ashley’s short legs, brunette pigtails, and striped T-shirt, she can easily pass for fourteen.

“They want me to go back,” I say to her, half-heartedly examining a bottle of red wine. “To repeat the year.”

“But you don’t want to?”

“I hate economics.” I pull a face. “You know that.”

“So, switch programs.”

“To what?”

“Music. Obviously.” She looks at me as if I’ve lost my mind.

“I can’t.”

“Because of Aiden?” She pinches the bridge of her nose. “Carly, you’re so talented. Aiden shouldn’t impact these kinds of decisions for you.”

“It’s not that simple, Ashley.”

“Yes, it really is, Carly.”

I grip the bottle of wine. Ashley makes it sound easy. But my parents are already angry at me for dropping out, so I can imagine how that conversation would go. As failed musicians themselves, my parents view studying music a lot like buying lottery tickets: often futile and meaningless and more likely to ruin your life than enhance it.

Then there’s Aiden, the prodigy.

I set the bottle of wine back on the shelf, suddenly feeling exhausted. Shade is a chart-topping world-class band. They’ve won a few Grammy awards, including the Album of the Year award, and countless others I can never remember.

I can never live up to him.

I blow out a breath. No, music is out of the question. Studying economics at Colorado State is now out of the question.

“What else are you going to do?” Ashley makes a face as she examines a packet of shimmery crystals that dissolve in champagne. “Live on your parents’ couch?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Well, there would be worse places to live.” She chuckles.

“Look!” I seize a gaudy plastic Santa Claus, mostly to distract her, and waggle my eyebrows. “What do you think?”

“There’s no way that’s making its way into Sophia’s house.”

“Really?”

“Go on then.” She crosses her arms, smirking. “I dare you.”

For a moment, I consider it; then I picture Sophia’s sleek, modern house, with its white shag rugs and rose-gold bar cart, and I swiftly set the ugly Santa down.

“It wouldn’t make it past the front door.”

Ashley hands over her ID at the checkout, and the elderly woman takes her time in examining it, holding it up to the light and checking for any reason to doubt the legitimacy of it. I duck out of sight to hide a smile. Ashley turned twenty-two last month, but sales assistants never believe her. It drives her nuts.

Sure enough, Ashley looks thunderstruck as a manager is called over.

“Unbelievable,” she mutters as soon as we exit the store with arms laden with plastic shopping bags. “You wouldn’t believe the things I go through as a short person.”

Once we have everything loaded into the trunk of Ashley’s Jeep, we make our way back to my place. My apartment isn’t anything close to the level of sophistication of my parents’. But it’s still charming and has everything I need. Ashley smoothly parks in one of the empty spaces across from the door of my building. Together we load our arms with sacks and head inside.

Some of my friends give me grief for not using the money Aiden graciously gives us all on a nicer place, a fancy car, or really anything. They don’t understand that I’ve never once asked for a penny from my brother. Oh, he offers, but I always say no. I do just fine with my part-time job and the money my parents gave me when I graduated from high school. They set up savings accounts for both my brother and me to go to college. Only Aiden didn’t go to college and probably never will now. So, he dumped his account into mine, doubling what I would have received otherwise. I didn’t know about that until a few months after I received the money. When I broached the subject with Aiden, he shrugged it off and told me the money would be better spent with me than him. That and he was making plenty with Shade on tour. I dropped it after that.

We reach the top of the second flight of stairs, and I struggle to get my key into the lock. With a flick of my wrist, the lock clicks, and I push the door open with my shoulder. I flip on the lights inside the door, and we make our way to my kitchen and living room area. I don’t spend much time here, so everything is sparse and mostly clean. I spend most of my time at school or at work. I suppose without school now, I’ll probably be around here more often. I mull that around in my head for a moment.

The cream-colored walls, the light brown hardwood floors, and the stark white ceilings give the rooms a warm and welcoming feel, taking the notice away from how small the overall apartment is. The two floor-to-ceiling windows on the far wall of the living room are separated by my personal favorite feature: the stone gas fireplace.

My sectional couch fills up half the living room and is perfect for getting cozy with a good book and a glass of wine. Against the side wall, pushed into a corner, a pair of large bookcases are crammed with an assortment of papers, books, and board games. Against the other wall is a small white wooden desk. I’ve paired an ergonomic black chair that allows me to get work done or get lost in writing music for hours. Stuffed under the desk is a woven wastepaper basket overflowing with crumpled paper and debris. The wall above the desk is completely taken up by my corkboard.

My kitchen is set up for someone with great cooking abilities. I’ve always had a gift when it comes to cooking and baking. It’s well-known to everyone in my life that I’m the go-to girl when it comes to whipping up a dessert or a meal. The thought of opening a side business for it has crossed my mind a few times, but I just don’t think it’s my calling.

Ashley shuffles into the kitchen and places the shopping bags on the counter, looking at my empty white walls. She purses her lips but doesn’t comment on them.

“We should start to get ready,” I tell her as I turn and head down the short hallway to my bedroom.

Without pausing, I open my door and flip the lights on. As we walk into my bedroom, we are stopped short by my bed, which takes up most of the room. I’ve hung silver-colored drapes that fall elegantly down the floor-to-ceiling windows. I walk inside my overly large walk-in closet with Ashley on my heels.

“You could wear your red jumper,” Ashley says as she reaches for one of my black dresses.

“Well, it’s not very festive,” I say, mostly because I know Ashley will try to convince me to wear it otherwise. “What about my red top?”

“It’s versatile,” she says defensively, and I roll my eyes.

“Fine. I’ll wear the jumper,” I say with a half smile.

“OK.” Ashley grabs her phone. “I’m calling Sophia to get her butt over here.”

By the time Sophia arrives, Ashley and I are halfway through a bottle of white wine. At the sound of a knock at the door, Ashley, giddy with excitement and chardonnay, springs gleefully from the bed and tackles her like a linebacker.

“My hair!” Sophia squeals. “Ash, you’ll ruin it!” She tries unsuccessfully to bat Ashley off, but Ashley only clings tighter, like a barnacle to a rock. “Oh, for God’s sake.”

“You missed me,” Ashley says in a singsong voice. “Admit it.”

“I didn’t.”

“You did.” Ashley pokes her cheek. “I can tell.”

Sophia sighs. Her blonde hair is elegantly swept into an elaborate updo, and she’s already wearing heels, eyeliner, and a perfume that smells like roses and vanilla. Her fingernails are painted nude.

“Oh, come on. You both need to get changed. Now.” Sophia ushers us off the bed. “We need to get going. I need to get to the party for the caterers, and someone needs to do damage control for any issues.”

We both change quickly. Ashley wiggles into a green halter dress the same shade as her eyes, and I put on my red satin jumper, which doesn’t completely wash out my light features. Admittedly, the neckline is deeper than I’m comfortable with, but it will do.

It’s a short ride to Sophia’s house in the Village. I can tell by the booming bass from a DJ that the party is picking up, and we are only two steps through the door, when someone presses a gingerbread martini into my hand. I twist my neck to see who and only catch the back of a server.

“We made it,” Ashley announces, as if she might not have shown up to her own coming-to-town party.

We exchange pleasantries with some of the elites Sophia has invited. Halfway through a conversation, I sneakily press the martini into Ashley’s hand. She takes it without question and takes a large swallow. This is our silent system: Ashley takes the drinks, and I take care of her later.

A handsome guy whose name we don’t know is halfway through a story about a basketball game, when Ashley’s eyes darken.

“Oh shit,” she mutters.

“What?”

Ashley tips her head subtly. “Look.”

I follow her gaze and then groan. “Quick,” I say, grabbing her hand. “She hasn’t seen us. There’s still time.”

But alas, there isn’t time.

“Ashley!” A leggy blonde with caked-on makeup materializes next to us. “Oh my God. I saw the papers; you must be so devastated.” She touches Ashley’s arm. “How’s Scott holding up?”

Ashley shoots daggers at the blonde’s hand as if wishing she could impale it with her high heel, and I manage to cover a smile. Unfortunately, my smile is wiped away when I realize the random guy has managed to slip away, leaving us alone with Alex.

The traitor.

“He’s fine,” Ashley says shortly.

“The poor thing,” Alex replies. “He must just want to forget about it.”

“I’m sure he does.”

“If only people would stop talking about it,” Alex says with such sincerity that I cough to hide a laugh. Unfortunately, the noise alerts Alex to my presence. “And how’s Aiden? Is he back in town anytime soon?” she asks with a slight bit of venom in her voice.

“No, no.” I wave her off. “Not for months. They’re just about to start the next tour.”

As if Alex doesn’t already know.

“Well, I’m having a little get-together next week,” Alex says a little too casually. “So, if Aiden’s in town, let him know he’s welcome to stop by. Scott too.”

“And us?” Ashley asks sweetly. “Are we welcome to stop by?”

For a moment, Alex looks baffled. “Oh, of course.” She takes a sip of champagne. “I thought that was implied,” she says with a wink.

Ashley drains the rest of the gingerbread martini and wipes foam off the top of her lip. “You’ll have to excuse us,” she says, linking her arm through mine. “Our drinks need refilling.”

I lean closer as we make our way toward the drinks table, which is piled high with golden glasses, bottles of champagne, and platters of party treats. “We’re not really going to her party, right?”

“Oh, hell no!” Ashley snorts. “Over my dead body.”

“It was bad enough when the guys were here and she was attached to them like a leech, but we still can’t seem to shake her.” I groan.

“Let’s put her out of our minds.”

The party, thankfully, starts to improve. I catch sight of Sophia gliding around the room; her tinkling laugh echoes off the large glass windows as she flits from group to group. Ashley, to nobody’s surprise, ends up dancing on a table.

That leaves me, inevitably, in the kitchen.

I’ve developed a routine during these parties: wash the dishes, mop the floors, and sort out the garbage. Mercifully, there are fewer dishes tonight. Usually, I’m the one who makes food beforehand, but Sophia’s catering company has saved me hours of work.

Just as I’m reaching for the mop, my phone rings. My brother’s obnoxious face fills the screen. I smile as I swipe across the screen to answer.

“Hey, weirdo.”

“Well, well,” Aiden drawls. “If it isn’t the university dropout.”

“Oh, shut it.” I roll my eyes.

“Mom and Dad just told me the news.” He sounds amused. “Should I be worried, impressed, or grateful you took the spotlight off Scott’s photos for me?” He chuckles.

“You should be celebrating,” I say gloomily. “You’re going to inherit everything now. Mom’s going to write me out of the will.”

“She’ll calm down.” Aiden pauses. “You know, eventually.”

I exit the kitchen, slipping out onto the balcony. “What makes you so sure?”

“I stole the car, got a speeding ticket, and gambled the clothes off my back all in one weekend, remember?” Aiden must be plucking a guitar, because I can hear music. “And she’s not angry with me anymore.”

“You bought her a brand-new Porsche,” I say. “My regular student budget can’t accommodate things like that.”

“You’re not a student.”

“Ouch.”

“Too soon?” He strums a chord. “I was testing the waters.”

I lean against the cold railing. The frigid December air nips at my bare thighs, causing me to involuntarily shiver. I bounce up and down on my toes for warmth. I can see the Colorado skyline glittering below like a sea of shimmering stars in the black night.

“I can’t go back there, Aid.”

“I know.” His voice softens. “You shouldn’t have to.”

“But what am I going to do?” I feel panic rising inside me; the half bottle of wine is fueling the flames of it in my chest. “I have no skills except for a freakish knowledge of Bach.”

“You’re a rockstar in the kitchen,” he says with a chuckle.

“I know you don’t mean that in a sexist way.” I can’t help but grin.

“Why don’t you just fly by the seat of your pants for a bit? See where life takes you for once?”

I grip the railing. No, not an option.

“Maybe I should work at a coffee shop,” I say blandly. “I like coffee.”

“Too dull.”

“What about a secretary?” I let out a sigh. “I hear there are lots of sexy CEOs around hiring.”

I can practically hear Aiden’s scowl as he says, “Not funny, Carlz. And completely out of the question. Do you know what some of those powerful CEOs are capable of?”

“That,” I say, “is incredibly sexist.”

“You’re right.” Aiden sounds exhausted. “Sorry. But I’m not wrong on that. Besides, I have a better idea of how you can fill your time.”

“Go snowboarding? Become a professional beer pong player?”

“No,” Aiden says with a hint of irritation. “Why don’t you come on tour with me?”

“You can’t be serious,” I stutter after a moment of silence.

“Dead serious. Just promise me you won’t try to steal any shows or anything,” he says with a chuckle.

“Aiden!” I gasp in horror. “You know I would never.”

“Hey, I’ve got to say it. I’ve seen some crazy things on tour. I feel like anything is possible,” he says a little dejectedly.

“Besides, Aiden, music is your thing. It always has been. Right?” I ask him nervously.

“Right,” he says simply. “I’ve got the music; you’ve got the brains.”

“Exactly.”

We end our call, and I can’t help but think things just got worse in a way.

***

“I can’t go,” I say. “You don’t think I should. Right?”

I pass a mug of steaming hot chocolate to Ashley, who is currently sitting next to the toilet in her en suite, occasionally hurling her guts out like a drowning sailor while clutching the toilet seat like a life preserver. I gently stroke her hair. Next to us, Sophia, wearing a fluffy white bathrobe, is painting her nails devil red.

“I think you should go,” Sophia says for the millionth time. “When else will you get the chance to tour with the most famous band in the world?”

“I wasn’t aware the Beatles were still touring.” I feign surprise.

“Funny.”

“I think so.”

Sophia points her nail polish brush at me sternly. “If you don’t go, you’re insane.”

“What’s insane,” Ashley says, looking slightly green still, “is that there are two of you right now.” She shields one eye with a hand, squinting up at me.

“Look, I can’t just go on tour.” I bounce up and start pacing. “It’s—”

“Stop!” Ashley yelps, cringing. “Just stand still or sit back down!”

“Sorry.”

“I wish I hadn’t had so many drinks,” Ashley growls, clutching the pillow on the floor next to her tighter. “I feel as if an army of jackhammers has taken up residence in my head.”

“Poor baby,” I croon, stroking her hair some more.

“Those martinis were lethal.” She smiles at me. “I agree with Soph; you should go, Carlz. Break the rules for once.”

I stare at her. She once cried when she forgot to return an overdue library book, so the fact that she’s telling me to break the rules is nothing short of miraculous.

“But I won’t know anyone,” I say, chewing my lip. “And the boys will be rehearsing most days. What if I get lonely?”

“Well, I’ll go with you,” Ashley says casually, as if she’s suggesting we grab an ice cream cone. “My classes don’t start for a few more months, and I haven’t seen Scott in ages.” She sits up, looking less green. “We could both join for the first few weeks of the tour.”

“You mean it?”

“Sure. Why not?”

“Oh, you’re kidding me!” Sophia throws her hands up. “So, you’re both going to jet around the United States while I rot in Colorado?” She jabs a finger in my direction. “Where’s the justice in that?”

“You have a photo shoot with Cosmo next week, Soph. I don’t think you’ll exactly be suffering.” I roll my eyes.

“True.” Sophia holds up a hand, admiring her handiwork. “And you can bring me back that face cream I like from New York.”

“There are face creams in Colorado, you know,” I say, and Sophia smiles sheepishly.

“I know.” She grins.

I steal Ashley’s hot chocolate and take a sip of the warmth to steady myself.

This is a bad idea. In fact, it’s a bad idea of epic proportions. I just failed out of university; I don’t deserve to travel the country. I deserve to spend my days grinding espresso beans at Starbucks and getting shouted at by middle-aged mothers for mixing up a latte and a cappuccino. I can’t just run away from my problems.

And yet …

I pass the hot chocolate back to Ashley, pursing my lips. Up until now, I’ve tried to be the perfect daughter. I got a scholarship in economics because my father wanted me to. I got into the best business school in Colorado because my mother asked me to. I’ve tried to be the perfect sister. I don’t share any personal information online about Aiden or our lives because he’s asked me not to.

Don’t I deserve to do something I want to do? Don’t I deserve to spend some time with my brother? Don’t I deserve to have some fun for once?

A small voice inside me whispers, “Plus, Scott will be around.”

I shove the small voice away, giving myself a mental head slap. “Let’s say I do go,” I say slowly. “How would we get there? It’s the December holidays; airlines are booked solid.”

“We’ll fly private,” Ashley says. “The boys will send a plane.”

“And what about money? I don’t want Aiden to—”

“If you say, ‘bankroll my lifestyle’ right now, I’ll kill you.”

I frown. Up until now, I have refused to take a penny from Aiden. He’s offered to pay for my education, a new car, and anything he thinks will make my life a million times easier. I would rather be up to my ears in debt and work full-time at a music store than take money from him.

Ashley has fewer qualms.

Besides, Ashley’s family owns a sizable estate in Northern California and a holiday home in upstate New York. I don’t think she has ever had to think all that much about money.

“Oh, come on.” Sophia sighs. “Don’t make us post that video of you falling asleep face down in a bowl of spaghetti after a night of clubbing on Facebook.”

“Is that a threat?” I ask them, taken aback.

“It’s an incentive.”

“What if I still refuse to go?”

Sophia’s smile turns wicked. “Oh, trust me: after we post that video, you’ll be begging to leave the country.”

“But how will I explain this to my parents?” I stutter.

“Carly, you need to stop worrying about them. This is about you,” Ashley says.

That is how, two hours later, I find myself packing a suitcase and going through my flight itinerary.

It doesn’t take me long to clean up my apartment and let my building manager know I’ll be gone for a while. I finish loading my bags into the trunk of my car and get in before I start to freeze to death. My phone buzzes a few times in my cup holder, signaling a text message has come through. I glance at the text.

It's from Aiden: “The plane will be waiting for you. Let security know who you are, and show them ID. They’ll take care of you and Ashley. I know you stole my Denver hockey jersey—bring it with you.”

I smile to myself. Typical Aiden. Simple and to the point.

Then I remember what I’m about to do, and my smile falters.

I put my car in Drive and head to my parents’ place—in other words, hell.

Part of me hopes my parents are out again, but my dad opens the door almost immediately after I knock. He’s dressed in a gray sweater and jeans, and there’s a mug of coffee in his hand. His eyes are red-rimmed.

My heart twists and drops to my stomach; I know it’s because of me.

“Hi!” He gently pulls me in for a hug. “Come in.”

He ushers me into the living room, where my mom sets down a stack of sheet music. My throat feels dry as sand. I’ve deliberately left my luggage in my car—no need to tip them off early—but I still feel as if they can read the guilt on my face.

“I’ve got something to tell you,” I blurt out.

In retrospect, I realize it was not, perhaps, the best opening line.

My mom turns white. “Oh my God. You’re pregnant, aren’t you?”

“What? No!” I stutter.

But my mom is undeterred. “That’s why you failed out of school, isn’t it?” She takes my hands. “Don’t worry, honey. We’ll support you. Even if the father is that rude Adam boy you used to see, we’ll—”

“Mom!” I shake loose of her grip. “I’m not pregnant!”

“Oh.” Her face tightens. “Is it Aiden? Did something happen to him?”

“Aiden’s fine.” I collapse onto the couch. “The only problem he has these days is deciding which backup dancer to date this week.”

Unfortunately, my mother seizes on this. “He’s dating someone?” she says.

“It was illustrative.” I resist the urge to roll my eyes. “You know Aiden doesn’t date. He’s paranoid about having his secrets leaked to the press.”

“Poor Aiden.” My dad sighs.

It doesn’t matter that Aiden is one of the most successful musicians in North America, is swimming in money, and can get any girl he wants; our father will continue to pity him for having to deal with, and I quote, “the pitfalls of fame.”

Aiden can buy a Tesla in cash, and our father still feels bad for him.

“Well, this is kind of about Aiden,” I say, backtracking. “At least a little bit.”

“Oh?”

I take a deep breath. “I’m going on tour with him. I’m leaving today.”

There’s a long, drawn-out pause.

“You’re joking,” my dad croaks out.

“You think running from this mess is the best way to handle this?” Mom jumps to her feet and starts shouting. “We raised you better than this!”

I’ve prepared myself for these hysterics. I brace myself through the shouting, letting my parents get it all out. My dad bangs a fist on the coffee table.

“Carly, what is with you? Your mother’s right. We raised you so much better than this! You need to stay here and figure out your next steps!” he shouts at me.

“Excuse me?” I blink.

“Are you going deaf?” my mom shouts. “This is the last thing you should be doing!”

“Mom, Dad,” I say slowly, “you know I’m not going back to college, right? I need to do this for me. Aiden is giving me this as a break, not to run away.” I try to stay calm.

“Fine. We will talk once you’re back.” My mom turns her back to me and disappears down the hallway, slamming a door closed.

And that’s that.

I look over at my dad, expecting him to continue yelling. Instead, he follows my mom down the hall and disappears. I take that as my cue to leave. I let myself out and make my way to my car.

Once I’m in my car, I take a few shaky breaths to calm myself down. That wasn’t much different from how I pictured it going. The ringing of my phone breaks the silence in my car.

“Ashley.” I sigh, not bothering to check the caller ID. “I’m on my way.” I shove my key into the ignition and turn my car over. “You are not going to believe what I just went through. Not only did my mom think I was pregnant, but apparently, I’m ruining my life.”

“Well, are you?” The husky voice of Scott floats through my phone.

I slam on my brakes, jerk to a stop, and drop my phone. My heart seems to be in my stomach, and my stomach seems to be at my feet.

“Scott.” I breathe out as I fumble with my phone and my heart rate. “I wasn’t expecting … I thought—”

“Calm down, Carlz.” His voice is gentle and soothing. “Are you OK?”

“You know that nickname makes me feel like I’m seven.”

“I know,” Scott says easily. “That’s why I use it,” he adds teasingly.

I frown. I can hear music blaring in the background, or maybe it’s a video game. It wouldn’t be out of this realm for him to be at a party either. But I can also picture him at home alone, eating a bag of chips or a bowl of popcorn in his gray sweatpants.

I like Scott best that way. Sober. Teasing. Mildly irritating. Effortlessly sexy.

“So,” he says, “I hear you’re flying out here shortly.”

“Yeah.” I pause to pull out onto the highway. “I’m heading to pick Ashley up now.”

I’m met with silence. I know why he’s really calling.

“Look, Scott—”

“It’s none of my business.” He cuts me off firmly. “And it’s not anybody else’s either.”

“I know.” I breathe out.

“Carly?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you OK?”

It’s a simple question. But I feel tears prick at my eyes. Scott is one of the few who has ever witnessed firsthand how hard my parents are on me. He and Ashley were over all the time while we were growing up.

“I will be.” I try to keep my tears out of my voice. “I wish I could go back just to please them, but I can’t. Not this time.”

“I know.”

My heart flutters a little bit. His simple understanding is like a balm to my anxiety. I turn down the street toward Ashley’s place as I say, “Economics isn’t for me. To be honest, the stress of putting myself through those classes was starting to make me physically sick.”

“Yeah, Aiden told me that too.”

His flat tone confuses me, and I frown at my phone.

“I’m sorry I haven’t called you lately,” I tell him as I park. I know I sound exhausted.

“It’s a two-way street, Carlz. I’m sorry too,” he says in an equally exhausted voice.

Even exhausted, his voice still sends goose bumps across my arms and sends my heart racing. Not that I can ever admit that out loud to him or anyone. First, telling him I’ve been in love with him for most of my life could mean absolute rejection from him. Second, Aiden can never find out. He has never handled my having boyfriends well. This would be like dropping a bomb on him.

“Well, I’m excited to see you. It’s been too long,” he says.

“It has been a long time.” My heart flutters a bit more. I bite my lip. “You won’t tell Aiden about my parents’ pregnancy accusation, will you? I’m really not sleeping with anyone.” I pause. “At least not recently.”

“I gotchu, girl,” Scott says cheerfully. “Bye, Carlz.”

He ends the call before I get a chance to say goodbye.