a smile, telling her how great that is while all the while screaming that I thought we’d agreed on going a different direction.
But even at Brendan’s the other night, she mentioned that she saw going indie as a potential way to attract more attention from a label. It’s a stepping stone to her, not a destination in and of itself.
And can I really blame her? If I had a label interested in me, I’d take the meeting too. Especially if my agent were encouraging it.
So I’d kissed her goodbye and been supportive, even though I’m sure she saw through my act. She’s not dumb. But she didn’t ask if I was upset, and I’m not going to be the asshole that tries to drag her down. My job is to help her look better, after all, to make her more attractive to a label. What kind of jackass would I be if I tried to change the deal now?
Sure, we’re starting to use the L-word. Tentatively still. But we’ve each said it a few times, even if it’s mostly been during or right after sex. There are real feelings there on both sides. Which is just another reason to be supportive, in the end. I love her. I want her to get what she wants. And if that means signing with a label, then I’ll support her one hundred percent.
I just hope she’ll at least help me pick good songs while I pursue my indie career and maybe perform with me occasionally because our duets have the most views and I fully expect them to be our best sellers once we have the official recordings up.
But it’s not Alexis’s voice that responds to my greeting. It’s my mother’s.
“Colt. I take it you were expecting someone else?”
I swallow the sigh that wants to escape. “Alexis is at a meeting. I thought she was calling to tell me how it went. How are you, Mom?”
She hums, the sound equal parts speculation and censure. “I’m well. I haven’t heard from you in almost two months, though, so I’m not sure how much you really care.”
I grit my teeth. “If you recall, you weren’t too thrilled with me the last time we spoke, so I thought you’d like some time to … recover from your upset.”
A sardonic laugh trickles into my ear. “I hear your brothers have met your little wife.”
I grit my teeth, anger threading through me at the demeaning appellation as well as the idea of either of my brothers talking to her about Alexis. It’s not surprising, really. I can’t blame them. I did the same when I was in their position. And I’m quite sure they’re not even doing it to get back at me. They’re probably trying to help. Just like I was.
But dammit. Mom’s got fangs when it comes to the women in our lives. And I’m not going to let her sink them into Alexis.
“Brendan invited us up for dinner the other day. Jonathan and Gabby flew into town for it too.”
She hums again. “Yes. They came to see me. Of course they only stayed an hour.” She sounds like she’s pouting. I don’t know why, though. Even if she’s not actively awful to Gabby now, she’s never been overly welcoming. And Gabby wouldn’t trust it even if she were. And who can blame her? Mom tried her hardest to get Gabby and Jonathan to break up.
And while she wasn’t quite as awful to Lauren, the story I heard included her offering money to Lauren to divorce my brother. Or maybe she was just planning to? Every time they talk about it, they get too angry to be coherent so it’s hard to parse out the exact details. And of course Mom’s version of the story isn’t all that trustworthy. According to her, she’s the innocent victim just trying to protect her precious baby boys.
Which is all the more reason to keep Alexis far away from her.
“But I must admit, I’m intrigued,” she continues. “I thought whatever scheme you’d hatched with this girl would’ve blown up in your face by now, but your brothers seem to think that she’s the real thing. I’d like to meet her.”
Hell no. Everything in me is screaming at me to say the words and not just think them. But that wouldn’t go over well. And I really just want to get off the phone, and outright refusal would turn this into a much longer conversation. “I’ll talk to Alexis and see