Her eyes widen in surprise and I’m guessing she didn’t expect me to argue with her. She stammers before finally saying, “I just thought that if we were going to get together, it would need to be tonight since the kids will be arriving the next day and…” She trails off and dips her head down.

  I’ve never seen her like this, uncomfortable and unsure. I wish we weren’t having dinner with so many of my staff. Unfortunately, we’ve already been standing at the drink station for too long. I take a step to move around her but as I pass beside her, I lean close and whisper, “Don’t fall asleep on me and I’ll stop by your place around midnight.”

  Her gasp of surprise will sustain me for the next few hours until I can have her in my arms again.

  * * *

  As it turns out Carsen was right. Saturday night is the last time we’re able to get together alone and away from prying eyes until Wednesday. I do my best not to be in Carsen’s business twenty-four, seven while at the same time making sure I don’t appear to give her any special attention.

  Maybe it’s because it’s what I want to see, but Carsen is flourishing at the camp. It’s only been a few days, not even a week, I already feel a sense of how successful an arts program could be long term, but it’s much too soon to bring up anything of the sort to her.

  The kids like her and the staff like her. I’m fairly certain she knows how I feel. The only downer, if there is one, is Susan. I’m not sure what her problem is, but something’s off with her. Or else it seems to be that way whenever Carsen is nearby or someone speaks about her in Susan’s hearing range.

  It’s not until Jane stops by on Wednesday to pick up Haley that I catch a hint of what the issue is. Jane’s been talking with her mother about us. I’m not sure exactly what Susan’s been hearing from her daughter but it’s nothing good about either me or Carsen.

  It’s a problem I don’t want and I don’t want to deal with, but I know I’m going to have to sooner or later.

  Carsen must sense the same thing because she makes a point to be busy and out of the way whenever Haley looks for her. I hate that Jane’s somehow cast a shadow on what up until her appearance has been a wonderful week for both Carsen and the camp.

  I stand off to the side of the porch on the main building and watch as Jane leads Haley to her car in the parking lot. From inside the guesthouse ,a curtain flutters before falling back into place. It tugs at my heart that Carsen feels as if she can’t talk with the little girl.

  I make myself a vow that I will slip over to the guest house tonight after dark.

  Thirteen

  "To dare is to lose one's footing momentarily. To not dare is to lose oneself." Sren Kierkegaard

  Once the campers arrive, it’s easy to fall into a routine. This first group captivates me the minute they step off the bus with wide eyes as they try to take in everything. They range in age from ten to twelve and Tate told me earlier they were from the Raleigh/Durham area of North Carolina. It’s likely many of them have never traveled to the mountains before.

  He’s standing by my side as they disembark and he lowers his head to whisper in my ear, “Watching a child discover something new never gets old.”

  My heart lodges in my throat at the way this man nurtures and cares for kids that are not his own. By the time I’m able to talk, he’s moved forward to speak with the group’s adults and to welcome the kids.

  There are fifteen kids in the group. From what everyone tells me, this is a small group, but it is to be expected since it’s March. I’m shocked at my disappointment at the realization I won’t be here in the summer to welcome the larger groups.

  When I try to rationalize staying past the mandated month, I force myself to stop. This is not a job, this is not part of my career path. This is a sentence for stepping in and trying to help a woman who didn’t want or ask for my help. Part of me hates how cold thinking that makes me feel, but the truth is, I have to think of it that way or else I’ll never make it back to Nashville.

  By far, however, the most surprising thing is how much I enjoy teaching music. It’s nothing I ever considered doing and honestly, I’ve been fully prepared to hate it. Especially knowing how limited my time will be with these kids and that I have to assume zero music knowledge on their part.

  But even with all that, there is an unexpected joy at their realization that they are making music even if it is with hand-me-down, second and third hand instruments. The kids beg for a chance to put on a show at the end of the week and when I approach Tate, he’s all for it.

  The first week, we’re only able to spend Wednesday night together, and that’s with Tate sneaking back to the main house just before dawn. I don’t mind the brevity of our time together, the first group leaves on Friday and the next, ten thirteen-year-olds, aren’t arriving until Sunday. Even with most of the staff remaining on-campus, I envision being able to spend some quality time with Tate.

  Of course, this is before I get the call from Nashville that ends up turning my world upside down.

  * * *

  Saturday morning, Tate and I are walking around the lake on his property since we never got around to doing it when we were alone and haven’t had the time before now. I once again tuck away the disappointment that I won’t be here in the summer because it’s a lot of fun to hear Tate talk about canoe races and teaching kids how to swim.

  We’re taking turns trying to one up each other skipping rocks, when my phone rings. At first I don’t realize what it is. My service here is shoddy at best and nonexistent at worst. In fact, the only place I seem to get any service is in Tate’s room in the main building, and apparently this tiny part of the lake.

  I look at the display, assuming it’s Elliott or Darcy since they are due back from their extended honeymoon today but instead it’s a Nashville number I don’t recognize.

  “Hello?” I answer, tentatively.

  “Oh my, God. Carsen. Finally.” It’s my old roommate, Holly. Though I have no idea why she’d be calling. “Do you know how many times I’ve called you?”

  “Sorry. I don’t get the best reception where I am.”

  “You can say that again,” she says and I swear I can hear her eyes roll. “I thought I’d have to come to Atlanta to get you to talk to me.”

  “I’m not in Atlanta.”

  “Why?” She starts and then says, “Nevermind. No time. Do you remember signing up for the annual talent search at Sparky’s?”

  Sparky’s is the bar I got fired from. The one hosting the annual talent search I’d wanted to be part of. The application process is insane. You have to submit your paperwork a year in advance and even then, contestants are selected on a supposedly random system. There have always been rumors, however, that employees at Sparky’s might have a slight advantage. Needing every advantage I could have, I’d been working at Sparky’s almost since my first day in Nashville.

  Her question hits me with the force of a hurricane. I stop walking and hold out my arm so Tate will stop as well. He hasn’t been paying attention to my phone call, but now he’s all ears as I reply. “I submitted an application last year for this year’s contest.”

  “Yes!” She screams. “And they selected you. A courier brought the invitation by days ago. They didn’t know you’d moved, and I didn’t tell them in case it disqualified you or something. But Carsen, you have to let them know by end of day tomorrow if you’re going to participate.”

  I’m too busy mumbling, “OhmyGod. OhmyGod. OhmyGod,” repeatedly to hear much of what she’s saying. Fortunately, Holly’s been talking loud enough for Tate to hear and he takes the phone from my hands. Which is probably for the best since I’m close to dropping it.

  “Yes, she’s participating,” he tells her. “Is there a number she needs to call or an email address or something? And what is the exact date of the competition?”

  * * *

  TATE

  * * *

  She’s leaving me. It’s gradual, but it’s happening. Little by little and piece by piece. Every day a little bit more of her is gone. It’s stupid, I know, for me to be upset or to not expect it.

  Did I actually think after two weeks, I would’ve made such an impression on her that she would give up her lifelong dream of Nashville and becoming a singer? For what? To work at a camp for kids, with little pay, little social life, and where no one appreciates her singing except for a few kids the world has mostly forgotten?

  For me?

  I can tell her that a life of fortune and fame is often shallow and empty. I can tell her because I know. I have lived it. I have been the person the sun always shines on and the press loves and that everybody wants to be.

  On the flip side, I can share with her that I have also been the person in bed at night unable to sleep because I know deep down I am nothing and that nothing I do matters.

  How can I tell her that her dream isn’t worth all she’ll have to give up to live it? How at the end of the day all she’ll have waiting for her is heartbreak, another night alone, and knowing nobody really wants to be her friend, and they only pretend to like her because of what she can give them?

  I can’t tell her I want her to stay with me, and the kids, and the camp. Or that life without a purpose isn’t a life, it’s only existing.

  I watch as she teaches the children, and she looks so happy. Sometimes, I think maybe, just maybe, for her it might be different. Maybe she can go to Nashville and get a record deal and live the life of the rich and famous and not have it suck the very being out of her soul.

  But at the end of the day, no matter how it might turn out, it’s not up to me. I can’t decide for her. I can’t live her life for her. And I can’t keep her with me by force. She’s an adult, and she deserves the chance to live her dream or at least attempt to.

  I have to let her experience things on her own, to learn things on her own. I can only watch from afar as she stands under the bright sun, and hope she can make it, and that she doesn’t wither and dry up.

  The competition isn’t until the end of March. She will be here for the month she’s supposed to, but she will leave after her required sentence is over. And until then, I will be the man she expects me to be. I’ll be supportive and warm and friendly. I’ll give her my company through the night, and feel her wrap her arms around me, and I’ll respond not with words, but with my own body, hoping to show her how much I need her here and that I desperately want her to stay.

  Her last week comes much too quickly and is filled with too many lasts. The last time she meets new campers. The last time she stands up at the end of the week program delighted to show how much the kids have learned during their time here. The last time she has to explain to someone that, no, cheese isn’t vegan. No, butter isn’t, either. Nope, not even eggs.

  The last time I tease her about being a vegan and swallowing.

  On one of our last nights together, we’re in bed at the guesthouse and she tells me she’s not going back to Atlanta before heading on to Nashville.

  “There’s no point,” she says.

  I’m fairly certain both Elliott and Darcy would disagree. Carsen’s talked to both of them several times and they are excited and proud of her. But they are Carsen’s family, not mine which means it’s not my business, and she has no reason to listen to my opinion.

  I ask a more neutral question. “Will there be tickets to the competition?”

  She bites her bottom lip and won’t look in my eyes. “I don’t know. There’s so much I won’t find out until I’m there, you know?”

  I take that to mean, It doesn’t matter because I won’t give you one and simply reply with, “Sure.”

  “I think my song is coming along, though.”

  It is. Whenever she has a free minute, she’s practicing. All the staff know what’s going on and they’re all excited for her. I didn’t know when I took the phone away from her to get the information from her old roommate that the winner of the competition will be awarded a recording contract. Every time she mentions it, she gets a far away look in her eyes.

  It’s a look I know well having seen in my own eyes a lifetime ago.

  I’ve told her no matter what, no matter how excited she is, no matter how many people tell her there’s no need for it, she shouldn’t sign anything until she has either an agent or an entertainment lawyer to look over it. I’ve known too many people over the years to get screwed because they did neither. I don’t harp on it though because she’s a smart woman and I refuse to treat her as anything less.

  I pull her closer knowing it’s one of my last chances to do so. “Your song is perfection and so are you. You will blow everyone away.”

  She doesn’t reply and I know it’s because she doesn’t believe me. There’s so much I want to tell her. Not to let Nashville or anyone she finds there to have a say so in her self worth. I want to tell her not to measure her success on the whims of the American public because they rarely measure worth or success with the appropriate ruler. And last, not to let fame define who she is, because fame is the most deceitful being there is and the price required to continue telling her its sweet lies will one day be more than she can afford.

  And that’s when it’ll destroy her.

  * * *

  CARSEN

  I drive away from camp headed to Nashville and instead of feeling elated that I’m going back to the place I never wanted to leave, I feel numb. The look in Tate’s eyes as he told me goodbye and good luck will forever haunt me.

  Agreeing to be lovers for a month was a horrible decision and one I never should have made. But even with that knowledge, I don’t regret anything we did. In many ways I think it’d be easier if I regretted sleeping with Tate. In that case, I’d label him as a mistake and move on.

  I can’t bring myself to call him a mistake. Not even close. The time we spent together wasn’t long, only a month, and yet our connection was deeper than many I have with people I’ve known for years.

  He never vocalized it, but he’d didn’t want me to return to Nashville. No, to me he’d say, “Go after your dreams. You’ll never get anywhere if you stay in one place.” Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate his support. Truly, I do. The only thing is I wanted him to ask me to stay. At least once.

  I’m aware that confession makes me a queen bitch, but I don’t even care.

  My phone rings and my heart skips a beat because I think it might be Tate, but a glance at my hands-free device shows it’s Darcy.

  “Hey, girl,” I answer, trying to keep my voice light.

  “Carsen.” The warmth in her voice comes through the speakers and fills my car. I can just about pretend she is riding with me. “I wanted to call real quick and see how you were doing.”

  As far as I know, Elliott and Darcy don’t know about Tate and I. I haven’t seen them since the wedding and now that I’m heading to Nashville instead of Atlanta, I’m not sure when I’ll see them again. Of course we talk via text and the occasional phone call, but it’s very high level stuff we talk about. Nothing deep. Although, it wouldn’t surprise me if Darcy suspected something.

  “I’m on my way back to Nashville. Left the camp about an hour ago. Trying to settle in for a long drive.” I’m saying the words but even to my ears they sound flat.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” She asks, and it’s clear she hasn’t been fooled by anything I said.

  “I do. But I don’t think this is the best time. Hate to snot sob while I’m driving, you know?”

  “That bad?”

  I can’t answer. If I do, I’ll spill my guts right here on speaker phone. And I’ll probably cry and then wreck the car. Wouldn’t that be fun? Besides, I’m fairly sure far Darcy’s figured out it involves Tate.

  “Can you at least tell me where you’ll be staying?”

  This I can do. I can do small talk as long as I don’t have to chat about anything too personal. I tell her the set up I’ve arranged. My room has long since been rented to someone else, but Holly was nice enough to offer me her couch. I’m not sure how long I’ll be in Nashville. Thanks to Tate I have enough in my bank account to get a room at an extended living place. Not that I want to burn through my savings but it’s nice to know it’s there if I need it. The last thing I want to do is to be a nuisance to my old roommates.

  Darcy and I chat about nothing of importance. She talks about the things she and Elliott saw in Italy. Her voice takes on a dreamy quality when she speaks of Italy and my brother. It makes me happy they have each other and finally admitted how they felt. I wonder if I’ll ever find someone that makes me feel the way Elliott makes her feel?

  “When is the competition?” She asks in what I see as a not-so-subtle move to drive the conversation in my direction.

  “In two weeks.”

  “Wow. I didn’t think it was that soon.”

  I laugh. “Am I forgiven for not coming to Atlanta now?”

  “Sure, I understand, but your brother is a different story.”

  “He’s upset I’m going straight to Nashville?”

  “He misses you, Carsen. You know that. He wants to be supportive but at the same time he misses you.”

  “It’s just a competition. In no time, I’ll be back in Atlanta and probably living in his old place. That is assuming you guys haven’t sold it.”

  “No. We’d never do that with the possibility you might need it.”

  “You guys can’t keep it forever just because I might need it.” Jesus. When this competition is over I have to find a job so my older brother doesn’t feel the need to support me forever.

  “How long is the drive?” She asks, changing the subject once again.

  “Five hours from the camp. I have about four left.”

  “I’ll let you go. Be sure to send a text or something so we know you arrived safely.”