Cole knew it was probably a piss-poor idea, but losing Jenn seemed worthy of going out and getting shit-faced. He rounded up as many guys as he could, rented out the back room of The Pour House, and drank until the pain in his chest had dulled to an ache. Then he dried himself out and called his manager. He was ready to go into the studio to record his new album. He’d imagined doing this with Jenn at his side, but now he’d be singing without her.
Abruptly, he remembered the first song she’d played for him. It was called “Lost,” and at the time, it had felt too melancholy. He’d recorded a rough version of it ages ago, one night when he’d been up late wishing she was in his bed. He pulled up the file now and listened to it.
Melancholy, yeah. But it had an edge. He imagined it as an acoustic number, just him and his guitar. It might be just what he needed to replace “Right Away,” because he couldn’t record that one…not without Jenn.
So he had his manager write up a contract for “Lost” and “Coast to Coast,” the other song he and Jenn had written together. And then he manned up and called her.
“Hello?” she answered, her voice guarded.
It had been two days now since she’d walked out of his house. One day since the movers arrived to clear out her belongings. About a million minutes since he ought to have called to make things right. Or wrong. Or whatever.
“Hi.” He paced the kitchen, one hand clenched around the phone, the other pressed against his heart, which felt like it was about to burst out of his rib cage. “I just…I’m sorry, Jenn.”
“Yeah, me too.” Her voice was quiet, dull.
“I was just calling to let you know that Benny’s going to be sending over a contract. I want to license our songs, make it official.”
She sucked in a breath. “Oh. Yeah…okay.”
He’d caught her off guard. Whatever she’d been expecting him to say, it wasn’t this. “That’s still what you want, right?”
“Of course.”
“Okay. Well, take care.”
“Yeah. You too.”
He ended the call feeling like he’d somehow fucked things up worse than ever.
He wanted to license her songs?
Jenn had to restrain herself from screaming in his ear or throwing the phone across the room. Was he serious? Not one word about their marriage or the fact that she’d told him she was in love with him, but he still wanted to buy her music.
Well, great. Good for him.
And hey, at least she would come out of their marriage with her first songwriting credit. That was something. A pretty big something, actually, even if it did feel like an empty accomplishment right now while her heart was so freshly broken.
The biggest surprise came when she received the contract and saw that he was requesting “Lost” instead of “Right Away.” What did that mean? She’d only ever played “Lost” for him that one time, months ago. She ought to be happy about the swap, because this would be a solo songwriting credit for her. But she couldn’t focus on that success just yet. His phone call and the subsequent contract had hammered home the fact that he wasn’t going to try to work things out between them. He wasn’t going to fight for their marriage.
They were done.
And the only thing left for her to do was to file for divorce. She couldn’t wait another three months to put this behind her. Her heart was a mess right now, but in the long run, this was probably for the best. They never would have made this work. She’d never wanted a life in the spotlight. Cole was the opposite of everything she wanted in a husband. She was a logical person, an organized person. She needed to put the past behind her and move on.
There was no point in prolonging the inevitable.
She spent the next few days holed up in her apartment, launching her new plan of attack. With the contract from Cole, she could count on some songwriting money next year after his album was released. And maybe more the following year if she collaborated with Kate. It wouldn’t be much, not to start, but once she’d built herself a catalog of music, the royalties ought to be enough to support her, especially if she had a husband—a real husband—by then who brought in a steadier income.
With a sigh, she scrolled through today’s headlines. “Heartbreak for Colton Nix” seemed to be the theme of the more reputable news sources. “True Love or a Calculated Move?” was the theme of the celebrity gossip sites. Someone had done some digging and found out that Jenn and Cole had met the same day they were married, which only intensified the speculation that their marriage had been a ploy to kill the “limp dick” rumors and launch her songwriting career. After all, as one site so eloquently put it, “If he could get it up, why would he need to pay someone to pose as his wife?”
Poor Cole. As angry as she was at him for the way things had ended between them, he didn’t deserve this, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.
But she could. She had the power to end it once and for all.
Cole felt like he hadn’t left the studio in days. His fingers were sore, his throat raw, but his heart hurt the most. Why was he still pining away over Jenn a week after she’d left him? He and the guys had three songs down, nine to go. Today, they were recording one that they’d written together last month.
“Fantastic,” Benny said when they’d finished, taking Cole aside. “You guys are on point. Cole, you haven’t sounded this strong since Quentros broke up.”
Cole stared at his manager. For a long time, he’d preferred the freedom of being solo, but lately he really enjoyed the company of a steady group of guys. Maybe he ought to approach Naveen, Tom, and Ricky and see if they wanted to make Social Experiment the real deal.
“By the way, you ought to see the statement your wife put out today,” Benny said, eyebrows raised.
“She made a statement?” Cole said blankly. Why the hell would she do that? Especially without discussing it with him first.
“Front page news.” Benny tabbed through a few screens on his phone and then held it up for Cole to see.
“Our marriage was real in every sense of the word,” Jennifer MacDonald states exclusively through her publicist, Veronica Padrón. “And it’s time for the hurtful name-calling to stop. We ask that you please respect our privacy during this difficult time.”
“Her publicist?” Cole repeated numbly. “But she doesn’t…”
“You’re missing the point,” Benny said. “She just ended those ‘limp dick’ rumors for you once and for all.”
Yeah, she had. Fuck.
“Hell of a girl you got there, Nix. You really just going to let her walk away?”
“Well, I—”
“Colton Nix?” a woman’s voice said from behind him.
He turned to find himself facing an unfamiliar brunette. “Yeah, that’s me.”
“You’ve been served,” she said flatly, shoving a large envelope into his hands before walking back out the door.
“Served?” His brain seemed to be two steps behind today. He opened the envelope and pulled out the papers inside, but his heart recognized what they were even before his brain processed the words he was reading.
Jenn had just served him with divorce papers.
“No.” The word just popped out of his mouth. He wasn’t even sure what he was objecting to, but seeing it spelled out in black and white, the dissolution of their marriage felt wrong. So wrong.
“Looks like you’ve got some personal matters to attend to,” Benny said, eyeing the papers in Cole’s hands.
“Yeah, I…I need to go.”
Benny put a hand on his shoulder. “Good luck, man. I hope everything turns out okay.”
“Thanks.” But as he strode out of the recording studio headed for the car, he didn’t even know what “okay” meant anymore. What could possibly make any of this okay? All he knew was letting their marriage end like this, without even talking about it, was not okay. Not even a little bit.
Without having any idea what he would say when he got there, he had Steven drive him straight to Jenn’s apartment on 96th Street. He climbed out of the car and walked toward the front door, realizing with an uncomfortable feeling that he’d never been to Jenn’s apartment before. How could that be?
The doorman gave him a long look, recognition dawning in his eyes.
Cole gave him a friendly nod, headed for the stairs.
“She’s not here,” the doorman said.
“Excuse me?”
“Your wife? She flew out to Los Angeles this morning, said she’d be gone a few weeks.”
“Oh.” Cole stood there for a moment, feeling angry and frustrated and foolish. “Right. Thanks.”
He turned around and walked back to the car. So Jenn had gone to LA. The MadFest concert was next week. He was flying to LA himself day after tomorrow. He’d find her and…then what? What could he say? How could he change the inevitable?