So Not My Thing - Melanie Jacobson Page 0,65

fighting. It hurt him more than he’ll admit, but it was a turning point. After Anneke, his songwriting changed. It became...melancholy. He started digging into hard things, and it’s not what listeners are hungry for. It’s not his brand.”

I thought about how Miles had explained that pivot. He’d described it as growing tired of being a corporate product, but he hadn’t in any way connected it to a breakup. “I got the impression that Anneke wasn’t one of the deeply meaningful relationships in his life.”

Aaron shot me a sharp look. “Who told you that?”

“Miles. He didn’t count it as one of his two ‘real’ relationships.” I hated myself for gossiping about him, but I was too thirsty for the information to stop myself from fishing.

“He’s pretty private. It makes sense that he wouldn’t go into it when it was a relationship that didn’t end on his terms. He’s still down in the wreckage of it, and so he’s like...” He waved in the direction of the club. “He’s literally building something new because his mind is like that. He’s trying to distract himself from all the pain, when what he should really do is pour it back into the music that made him a star.”

I considered everything he was saying, the pages of results I’d found with pictures of him with Anneke. They’d been in each other’s company for a solid year, photographed coming out of restaurants, walking the red carpet at award shows, sunning themselves on a yacht off the coast of Mexico.

Miles had made it sound like spending time with Anneke was a publicity stunt. Aaron was saying that was a front for some deep pain.

“They went to a benefit together last week.”

Aaron rolled his eyes. “Anneke comes around as often as she needs to for Miles not to get over her. Trust me, he’d take her back in a second if he could.”

I thought about the layers upon layers in Miles’s lyrics. He was a man capable of great depth. It gave weight to Aaron’s words.

“Here’s the thing,” Aaron continued. “This club might be a good idea for another investor, but for Miles, it’s going to hijack him from who and what he’s meant to be. And right now, not to be crass, he’s definitely got his eye on you, and unless you’re planning to become a rock star’s side piece and leave New Orleans behind, when he does snap out of it and start his comeback, you’ll be part of what’s holding him back.”

Two competing feelings warred inside me; disgust for Aaron referring to me—or anyone—as a “sidepiece” coupled with a sick thrill that Aaron had noticed Miles paying attention to me. It meant that the vibes were stronger than just the two of us on a tiny dance floor.

What was wrong with me? This deluded sign-seeking and surging hope had led to my televised meltdown twelve years ago.

“The Turnaround doesn’t seem like a phase. He seems super invested. And I don’t mean his money.” I was proud of myself for keeping my voice even. “It’s hard to imagine him leaving it behind.”

“He’ll get bored,” Aaron said. “He always does. But when that happens, Jordan will be ready to take over, and it’ll run fine. Jordan’s a good guy, and Miles won’t have to worry about it. He can stop in when he visits his parents, but he’ll be able to get back to his own music.”

He’ll get bored. Seemed like Miles was like that with women too, no matter what easy explanations he gave. Or maybe he had been telling the truth as he saw it; maybe he had always felt the situations were casual while the women had wanted something more. It made Miles less of a jerk if he really thought his flings were easy-breezy on both sides. But the idea of leaning into this attraction we felt and having him drift off when he was bored...

“Don’t worry about it,” I said, bouncing on my toes, ready to be done with this whole conversation. “I’ll stay out of his way.”

And then I took off running, ready to leave Miles and all my confusing feelings about him behind.

Chapter Nineteen

Almost like clockwork, on Monday afternoon, a text came in from Miles.

Rethinking this flooring. You have time to take a look?

I texted back a short, No, sorry.

No problem, he answered. Maybe tomorrow.

Probably not, I texted. Busy week.

He answered with a thumbs up emoji.

He texted again Tuesday anyway, wondering if now I had time to look at

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