Chapter Twenty-Five

When morning came, Wren was gone. In his absence, a sunflower laid on his pillow. It made me smile, but I didn't like waking up alone. Part of me was convinced all of this was a dream, but the beauty of the suite made it real.

When I realized I'd get to see California, I made plans for our entire week. I wanted to see Santa Monica and walk on Hollywood Boulevard. There were beaches and foods from other cultures. I wanted to discover the places they didn't show in the movies. But I wanted to do it with him. So, I waited for him. Every day.

In the wee hours of the morning, when he'd text, saying he was on his way and never showed. Or nights when I forced myself to stay up, only to fall asleep before he got in. Days went by before we actually had a conversation with each other. Most days, I'd wake up just before he left or after he'd fallen asleep.

The suite got bigger the longer I stayed in it, and by the end of the week, I practically lost it. He lived his life outside, and I wasn't a part of it. If he was too busy to do the things I wanted, then that was fine. I at least wanted to be at the studio. I kept waiting for him to invite me, but he never did. After talking to Uncle Ronnie, I found out where the studio was and invited myself.

It was going to be a surprise. I made a cake for him, but the building was bigger than expected. When I finally found his room, my cake's frosting started to melt.

I could hear his voice down the hall. It was hoarse and scratchy. He sounded like he had been through war. He belted the note over and over again, but it only got worse.

When I neared the door, I peeked inside. There was a sofa in the back and it was crowded with spectators. They grunted and moaned every time he sang. I had no idea who any of them were. They sat with their faces buried in their phones, snapping their heads up when he'd miss a note. They're presence even made me feel small, and I stopped myself from going inside.

An electronic dance break was stopped short when the producer cut the music. Where were the guitars? The drums? It was Wren's song but completely redone. It didn't sound like him anymore.

As the producer fell back into his seat, Wren wobbled out of the booth. The studio fell silent, and the judgemental back sofa looked up. Wren hung his head and stood at the producer's feet.

"How many times we gotta listen to you hit this note?" the producer asked.

The man beside him snickered. "Until his voice gives out."

He thought that was funny? Forcing him to sing until he couldn't anymore. Wren was tired. Did he do this every night? To think all these studio sessions had gone this way made me sick. They weren't encouraging at all.

"I-I'm sorry," Wren mumbled. "I'll try again. I can—"

"Don't nobody want to hear you sing this shit again," the producer sighed. He swiveled around to the back. "See? This the problem. These record labels think just because you got followers on TikTok, you deserve a record deal. This kid hasn't shown me any talent in three weeks."

Everyone laughed and the producer's sidekick swatted Wren away. "Just take a break."

Good. Because I was about to go in there myself. That producer really thought he was spitting facts. Yeah, a lot of people used followers to overlook talent, but that wasn't Wren. He deserved to be here.

When the door squeaked, I stepped back. Wren stumbled out and I held my breath. I shouldn't have come or at least warned him that I would. When our eyes met, he stopped in his tracks. His tight features loosened as he let out a breath. He looked like he was two seconds from losing it. Without saying a word, I took his hand and headed straight for the door.

Wren's face broke my heart. His worst fears had come true. He didn't need this. He was perfectly safe and respected in Elk Rose. His shows were always well received and people loved him. But here, he was the small fish, and I wasn't sure if he could handle being that again. He needed people in his corner. And he needed more than just me.

I took us through the maze of the studio until we made it outside. The fresh air hit our cheeks and birds hopped on the grounds. Sun rays danced on the tops of trees and we headed for the blue picnic tables. A rowdy band sat on the other end, throwing food at each other. It made me think of Wren's band. The record label was even changing his music. What was the point of signing him, if they were going to change everything?

"What the hell crawled up your producer's ass?" I barked.

The chaotic band went quiet. They looked over their shoulders and Wren laughed. "The label said he's the best of the best."

"Yeah, maybe for satan."

Wren wasn't angry enough for me. They had complete control over his career and they weren't doing a good job. I couldn't stop thinking about how defeated he looked.

"Are you okay?" I asked, opening my cake.

"Yeah. Better now that I'm out of there."

I handed him a fork. "All those people sitting around watching you isn't helping."

He sunk into his chair, taking a bite. "I know, but he's convinced it'll help me. I'm more concerned about what's happening to my music."

"You should talk to someone about it." I pointed. "You can't create music in that environment, and you're supposed to be making the music you want. If you do bad, they look bad. They should be giving you whatever you need to make the album you're meant to."

"I can't go around demanding stuff. This label's huge, Nora. I can't be deemed difficult. It'll ruin everything."

"Wren," I breathed out, hoping to settle my anger. "This is your career. Your music and they're changing it. You have to speak up now, or they'll do whatever they want. They'll ruin your music and career and when it blows up in smoke, they'll blame you. You have to take control over your journey."

The band on the other end stood up and gave me a round of applause. As their cheers filled the air, I rose from my seat and bowed. When our playful moment was over, they ventured back inside.

"You're right," Wren said. "I can't be backing down already. My career hasn't even started."

"Exactly."

He pulled me in for a kiss. "I don't know why I didn't bring you here. You always have a way of making things better."

I never got tired of hearing that. A smile pulled at my lips and I looked over his features. Bags still hung under his eyes and he hunched over in his seat. His eyes roamed the table, his mind somewhere else.

He was lost in thought, so I cleared my throat. "Can I ask you something?"

Dropping his fork onto the table, he straightened up. "Anything."

"What made you change your mind? I thought you were happy in Elk Rose."

"I was." He drummed his fingers onto the table. "The short answer is because of you and my mom."

Really? His mother and I were complete opposites. "How?"

"When I promised to make all your dreams come true." A smile curved into his lips. "I didn't think it would affect me so much. To watch you go from disbelief to pure joy. It made me think of myself. I used to hate performing. My shows were so bad, but eventually, I got better, the crowds got bigger. I wanted to feel it again, and I kept thinking about what you said at the lake. I didn't know how much I could withstand. I guess, I just wanted to see if it was true."

"And your mom?"

"When I went to get my inheritance, she blamed you. She said I spent so much time watching you survive, I thought I was capable of doing it too. I wanted to prove to her I could because she was right. You think I inspire you, but you inspire me, Songbird."

No one's ever said that to me. I never thought I'd do anything to inspire someone. I could see why Wren was inspiring, but for him to see that in me? I wanted to keep chasing my dreams. Maybe I'd inspire myself one day.

I reached for his hand. "I can't believe you gave us your inheritance. I can't speak for my family, but you can take my portion back. I don't want it."

"Nora, no." He scolded me like I was a child. "That's your money. I don't want it, and my mom doesn't need it. She's been saving it before any of us were born, and doubled it when I moved out. She was so sure I'd need it one day. It's a symbol of her disbelief in me. Please, take it. Not only do you and your family deserve it, you deserve more. Even if you put it in savings until you're eighty-five, you have to use it."

It still felt like Wren's money. His mother was still walking around, believing she did nothing wrong. I knew I couldn't blame her for everything. I should've tried harder, my father should've given my mother breaks, and my mother should've listened to her body. We all failed her, but my family and I had learned our lesson. Had Emilia?

Somehow, knowing she ruined her relationship with Wren long before I came along offered some comfort. She didn't have her claws in him and now he could grow. She'd blame me for it, but it had nothing to do with me. Wren did this all on his own.

I draped my arm over the table and laid my head down. "Tell me a dream," I whispered.

He looked up and smiled. "You want to know one of my dreams?"

I nodded.

"It be really cool to hear my song on the radio one day."

I laughed. "Well, after you talk to the people in charge, hopefully it'll actually be your song."

"I'll call Ronnie in the morning," he promised.

I poked his arm. "Tell me a dream that doesn't involve music."

He sighed and placed his head onto the table. We looked into each other's eyes and waited.

"You know what I've always wanted to do?" he asked. "I grew up with all women. I always wondered what it would be like to have my dad around or even just another guy. If I could, I'd love to mentor a boy younger than me. Be like a big brother or something."

I wasn't expecting that answer. "You'd be great at that, Wren."

"You think?" he whispered.

"Of course."

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