Page 28 of The Ex-Best Thing
“It sounds human, Bree. Is your mom still your manager?”
“Yes.” She doesn’t elaborate, but that one word is loaded, especially mixed with her frown. I get the sense that things aren’t easy there, either.
“You don’t need to say any more.”
“There isn’t really much more to say. I just wonder sometimes if I’d have normal family relationships if we weren’t so tied up in business together.”
My heart breaks for her. She wants amother. I know her dad is dating some young model. No, he’s engaged now? I can’t remember. And her sisters are off living their high-powered lives—Olive’s dating Dash Malone, only the biggest movie star of our age, and Zoey is super involved with Manhattan’s social scene as the girlfriend to some dog food prince. Noah Belacourt settled down with a wife and baby, but Bree said she needed a break from her family. She wants a separation between work and family, is what it sounds like.
I know how she feels, far better than she might realize.
Bree sighs. “It’s been so long since I’ve had a normal day likethis. Since high school, maybe? Even then, our show was gaining popularity, and I wouldn’t have been able to go to the store without being stopped.”
“Because cameras would follow you around.”
She laughs. “You know what I mean. Come on, Benny. I was datingyou. That threw me into the spotlight a lot.”
“And you never left it.” More like she widened the light and centered herself in it.
Her smile slips. “But you did.”
There’s a weird tension between us now, and I really wish I could reach forward and take off her shades.
Bree lowers her sandwich to the crinkly paper spread out beside her. “Do you miss it?”
“No.” I can tell my answer startles her. Or maybe it’s how quickly I spit it out.
“None of it? Not the private planes or exclusive dinners or going to parties with A-listers?”
“The private planes were nice, but I never really wanted the rest of it. I only wanted to play my music.” I think about her question, really consider it, and dip my head. “Okay, so maybe I miss one thing.”
“Me?” she says playfully, then seems to regret it immediately, because she picks up her sandwich and takes a huge bite.
“Yeah, I miss some of the people,” I concede, but that list is super small. Likemegasmall. Like, it has one person on it and she’s sitting right here. I clear my throat. “I miss that feeling of being on stage and having a crowd sing my songs with me. The energy, the vibe, all of that. It was exhilarating. There’s no other way to get that.”
Wow. Have I ever voiced that out loud before? Did I even realize I missed it until now?
“Why don’t you do it, then?”
Bless her, but she’s serious. “I left it all behind, Bree.”
“Right, and you don’t have to become a huge star again, butyou could play small shows. You could join that concert your crew is doing for their Beach Beautification thingy.”
For a moment, I allow myself to imagine it. The stage is mid-sized, the whole thing will be outdoors, festival-style. It’s just the sort of thing I would like to do if I ever—but, no.
“I can’t,” is all I say. One show would lead to more. People would film it. They filmeverythingthese days. It would end up on TikTok or X, my songs would get a resurgence, and I wouldn’t be able to go to Costco without being asked for selfies nonstop.
My anonymity is nice. I love it. I’ve worked for years to reach this level of distance from fame. I don’t want it to change.
And Bree? She basks in it. She’s made for the spotlight. This woman has an ethereal voice and a fun personality. She was made to be a good role model for young girls. She sings powerful songs about self-worth and spreads kind messages. She’s built a platform on it, shouting about reaching for potential and taking control of your own future. Bree is a good force in the world.
Except she’shere, not being a force for anything right now.
“Maybe we could play together sometime?” she hedges, and I can tell she’s being careful, like she’s worried it’s the actual music I ran from. Like she wants to take my hand and gently lead me back into the shallow end of enjoying music again.
She has no idea I never left that world behind. For the first time since she showed up in my living room and literally dropped back into my life meredaysago, it occurs to me she might have a terrible reason for hiding away here. The lengths she’s gone to to escape unnoticed were extreme. Stealing her sister-in-law’s clothes? Ditching her dog? While I initially assumedPeoplehad it right, and she was hiding while recovering from heartache, she wouldn’t need to silence her family for that, would she? She’d bewithher family, eating takeout and watching old movies.
If she’d run from heartache, it probably would have been an emotionally charged escape, not a plotted disappearance. That leaves an uneasy feeling in my gut.
