Smitten - Lauren Rowe Page 0,88
do you?”
I shake my head.
“You belong on the alternative charts, love. That’s where your true heart will take you.”
I look out the window of our hotel room at the Boston skyline. I’m trembling. I’m scared, but not confused. He’s right, and I know it. I return to Fish and nod. “I’ll tell Reed I want some changes.”
“I can talk to him, if you want.”
“No. It should be me. I’m also going to tell him I want the single to remain a standalone that’s not part of the album. I love ‘Blindsided,’ and I’m proud I wrote it. But it’s not right for the album. This album is going to be a love letter. To you. To myself. Reed said the album needs to be honest. Well, if I’m being honest, I’m happy now. In love. And I want the album to be about that.” I grab his hand. “The reason I want you to produce my album is because it will be a labor of love. And you’re the one who loves and knows me like nobody else.”
Fish looks touched . . . but, also, distraught. And, suddenly, I realize I’ve asked too much of him. For God’s sake, Alessandra, he’s Fish from 22 Goats! Not simply Matthew, your sweet and adoring boyfriend! He’s taken a week off from his crazy schedule to hang out, like he’s got nothing else to do. But the truth is he’s one-third of one of the world’s most successful bands. He’s got hundreds of people counting on him to stick to the schedule! Fish has told me how much pressure he feels about the army of people depending on his band. The crew who’ve become like family to him, after four long world tours in a short space of time. Plus, Reed said my album will be fast-tracked to capitalize on the single. And Fish simply can’t do both things at once. Given Fish’s schedule, it was flat-out selfish of me to even think of asking Fish to produce my album.
“I shouldn’t have asked that,” I declare, cutting through the awkward silence between us. “I said all of that without thinking of the realities of your life and schedule.”
Fish looks positively heartbroken. “You know I’d love nothing more than to produce your debut. In a perfect world, I’d spend every waking minute with you, from this day forward. All day and night, every day. But right now I’ve got some intense obligations already lined up and I can’t just—”
“Of course you can’t. For a minute there, I forgot about the real world outside our bubble. I got swept up in the magic of this week, when it’s just been you and me. A tribe of two.” I smile sheepishly. “Please, pretend I never said a word about you producing me. Zeke will be great. I just need to be more assertive, that’s all. I can’t expect him to know me, the way you do. With you, I don’t even have to explain. You just know. So, with him, I’ll learn to speak up and push back when my gut tells me we’re going in the wrong direction.”
“He won Producer of the Year at the Grammys last year for Laila’s album.”
“I know. He’s amazing! I’m lucky to get to work with him.”
Fish looks decimated. “I’m so sorry, baby.”
“Don’t apologize. You’ve been my prince on a white horse! I’m the one who should be apologizing to you for my total selfishness. I’m a narcissistic sociopath for even bringing it up.” I force a smile. “Honestly, I think I’m just freaking out that we have to say goodbye tomorrow. The thought of not being with you every single day is making me think and say crazy shit.”
“Oh, honey.” He pulls me to him and hugs me close. “I love you so much. And I love your music.”
“I know you do. Please, let’s forget I said it. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. I’m the one who owes you an apology.”
“For what? You’re in a world-famous band! You can’t drop everything on a whim to produce your girlfriend’s debut album! I was a jerk for asking.” I snuggle into him. “Let’s not think about it anymore. It’s our last night together for a long while—the last time we’ll be able to sleep together for three or four weeks.” I squeeze him and nuzzle into his chest. “All I want to do for the rest of the night is snuggle you and kiss you and memorize exactly what it feels like to