Page 89 of The Ex-Best Thing
“What?” Olive asks.
Nancy cackles. “They filmedThe Birdshere back in the sixties and Bree is obsessed with it now.”
“I wouldn’t sayobsessed.”
“I’ve seen that. The Hitchcock one?” Zoey asks.
“When?” I ask.
“Years ago. It’s a classic, B. You know how much Dad always liked old scary movies.”
I roll my eyes. Product of being the youngest. By the time I was old enough for things like that, my dad was mostly absent. I was raised on Zoey’s wisdom and after school specials.
“Did you warm up?” Benny asks.
“Earlier, yeah.” I hum, making my way into the fields and careful not to step on a single plant. When I sing the first few lines, they come smoothly. I feel the words wash through my body, like the forgiveness is actually cleansing me one note at a time.
It’s strange, because I don’t feel like I owe Jaida anything beyond a basic apology. I still feel like she’s the one who owes me, and we both know that. This is me playing the game, doing what I need to to show my fans I’m not as heartless as I look right now.
Maybe I am, though. Because as I sing the apology, I don’t really mean it, not toward Jaida. Benny is the person I think of as the words leave my mouth over and over again while Colby catches different angles.
“’Cause sorry sounds so small, standing in the wreckage of it all. Like a match in the dark, like a prayer I don’t deserve yet…”
“Now run toward me,” Colby commands. “Like a bird. Arms out.”
I see his vision, and I do it. “I’m not asking you to stay, just to hear the truth. I hate the girl I was when I hurt you.”
“Let’s go again.”
We film a few more times until he feels like he got the shot, then a smile breaks over his face. “Want to spin in the flowers?”
“Sure.”
Nancy took Zoey, Olive, and Sierra inside a half-hour ago, so I don’t have an audience when I spin in the flowers, or later when he leads me to the climbing vines and I lean against a pillar and sing parts of the chorus.
“I think we have plenty of different angles,” Colby says, checking the footage and nodding to himself. “This is great, Bree. It’s going to come together really well.”
“Did you want to get some of Benny strumming?”
Colby’s smile spreads wide. “What do you say, Ben? I can get creative with the angle so we don’t see your face.”
Benny shrugs. “I didn’t bring my guitar.”
“True. We’ll have to do that one back at the house.”
“Play music in the backyard? That’ll never give us away,” he says sarcastically.
Colby laughs, but he heads back toward Sierra’s house. Benny offers me his hand, and I lift the hem of my dress out of the dirt to follow him. “You don’t need to be in it. We can record tonight and call it good.”
He checks the time on his phone. “Speaking of that, we’d better get going. I thought we could pick up dinner in Sebastopol too. Are your sisters coming?”
“Probably.”
“Hey, listen,” he says, pulling me to stop outside of the English garden. This place is more than a flower farm—it’s an absolute oasis. “You’re doing really well. I think you’ll be pleased with the video once Colby’s finished mashing everything together.”
“I sure hope so.”
“Are you planning to call your mom before the song is released?”
