She rests her spoon on her plate and leans closer to me. "And I don't want you to leave. Period."
"Have you thought about what it would take for us to not be apart again?"
"Every day," she confesses.
"Me too. I think about it all the time. It consumes me night and day." And it does. I never stop thinking about it.
"What have you decided?"
I reach across the table and place my hand on hers. "I don't want to live without you."
"Me, either, but how do you suggest we make us work?" I can't tell if she's hinting for me to propose or if she truly has no idea.
I'm rubbing my thumb over the box burning a hole in my pocket. Is now the right time to tell her we'll make it work by getting married and saying to hell with all this other shit? That we'll figure it out as we go along? I have no idea, but I grasp the box in my hand and take it from my pocket. I'm holding it under the table, fidgeting with it. "I have something in mind."
I'm about to place it on the table in front of her when a man walks up to our table and interrupts. Dammit. I purposely waited until after dessert was served so this very thing wouldn't happen.
"Miss Paige McLachlan?"
This is no server or restaurant employee. He wouldn't know her stage name. Laurelyn glances up at him. "Yes."
A light flashes in her face as he takes several pictures of her with an enormous camera. "Can you comment for Country News on how it feels working in the music industry with Jake Beckett as your father?"
Shock and horror—that's the expression she's wearing. "What did you just say?"
His camera is hanging around his neck and he holds a recording device in front of her face. "Miss McLachlan, did your father get you your job with Southern Ophelia?"
Laurelyn looks at me and then back at the man. "I don't know who you are, but I'm not answering any of your questions."
He continues holding the recorder out to her. "Do you think Southern Ophelia's success has anything to do with who your father is?"
I get up from the table and step between them. There's ultimately no space between us when I stare him down. "She said she didn't want to answer any of your questions. Leave. Now."
He leaves but not before taking several more photographs and commenting, "It's amazing how much you look like him, Miss McLachlan. The fans are gonna love that."
She doesn't say anything immediately. I think she needs a minute to absorb what this means, so I let her have her time. Once she seems to have sorted it out in her head, she looks at me. "This changes everything. No one will ever see me as Paige McLachlan again. As far as the world's concerned, I'm only Jake Beckett's daughter."
"Southern Ophelia isn't where they are because you used his name. You and the band earned your success without riding his coattails. People will see that."
"I don't think so. I need to call my mom and…dad."
Well, there goes any chance of popping the question tonight.
"Hey, Mom. Are you at home?" She pauses briefly. "I'll be there in twenty minutes."
I'm not looking forward to seeing Jolene Prescott again since we didn't part on the best terms. I can tell she feels the same when she sees me walk into her living room with Laurelyn. Her narrowed eyes leave no room for doubt. Jake Beckett, however, is welcoming and gets up from where he's seated to shake my hand. "Nice to see you again, Jack."
Laurelyn's mum gives me a curt nod before looking to her daughter for an explanation. "What's going on?"
"Jack and I were having dinner and a reporter—at least I guess that's what he was—came over to our table. He took pictures and asked me to comment on how it felt to work in the music industry with Jake Beckett as my father." She focuses on Jake. "He asked me if you got me the job with Southern Ophelia."
Jake looks at Jolene and then back to Laurelyn. "I guess I should've told you this already, but I filed for divorce last week. It looks like the digging has started already. I'm sorry. I know you didn't want it to be known publicly."
"You shouldn't worry about this, Laurie," Jolene pushes. "It's not going to hurt you at all. If anything, this'll only boost your career." She doesn't get it, and I don't think she ever will. This isn't the way Laurelyn wanted to achieve success.
"But that's the whole thing, Mom. I don't want a boost from being genetically tied to Jake Beckett," Laurelyn tries to make her mum understand. "I want to earn everything on my own."
"And you will. You have. The world already sees how talented you are. Southern Ophelia was already doing great before this got out," her dad says to reassure her, but it's in vain. I can tell by her face. "You should tell Randy immediately. And I think we should schedule an interview as soon as possible. It'll look better if it's us telling the world instead of people seeing it on the front of a gossip magazine."
She's about to cry. I can sense it. "This isn't what I want."
"Well, it's a little late for that." The way Jolene says it almost makes me think she's happy about this.
Laurelyn holds the bridge of her nose and I suspect she's racking her brain for every other possible alternative. But she comes up empty because, by morning, this is going to be a wildfire raging out of control. "I guess I don't have a choice since it's coming out anyway. Just let me know when and where I need to be for the interview."
Chapter Twenty-Three
The last several days have spun out of control. It's gone public now—Jake Beckett is my father—and the vultures have descended. I can hardly push my way through the media gathered at my front door, so I'm forced to sneak out the back to my car parked a block down the street. Jack Henry insists on accompanying me everywhere I go now. He hasn't said it, but I think he's worried about my safety.
It's Friday night. We're down to two days. How did that happen? It feels like it was only yesterday when I saw him get out of that taxi in the midst of the pouring rain.
We're lying on the sofa face to face, my leg hitched over his. "You're leaving on Sunday and we still don't have a plan."
He draws a breath and blows it out slowly. "I can't stay. And unless something has changed, you're not ready to leave with me."
He hasn't come out and said it, but I have to give up everything for us to be together. "You're making me choose."
"No. Making you choose would be telling you to come with me or forget the whole thing. I'm telling you I love you and I want you more than anything in this world but that I can't stay." Is there really any difference in the two?