February 11th, 1998

Memphis, TN

“That's all they really want/Some fun/When the working day is done/Oh girls-- they want to have fun/Oh girls just want to have fun!” I sang and danced around my room, whipping my hair and using my hairbrush as a microphone. I was taking a much needed break from picture approval as I waited for Trace and Rachael to drop by so we could go horseback riding.

After packed days of nonstop work I asked Liam if I could take some time off and go home to Memphis for some down time. After going back and forth a few times he agreed to let me go home if I took some of my work with me. Really, there shouldn’t be much that I needed to approve. I mean, I was using the Backstreet Boys’ stage and there wasn’t any point in me having a wardrobe change, it’s not the like audience would come to see me anyway but Liam pressed the idea on me so much I was close to snapping and punching him in the face.

The guys, unfortunately, had to stay back in Orlando to work on their own promo tour and I haven’t heard from the Backstreet Boys since the whole blow up thing about a month ago…which was kinda my fault…I guess. Anyways, I received a few missed calls from Brian a couple of times but when I tried to call him back he couldn’t answer, which kinda made me start to worry about them.

I stopped over in Orlando to bring my dad to Memphis with me and I was shocked to see what the cancer had done to him in the short span of time. His eyes weren’t the bright blue that they used to be, they now resembled a grayish color. He was thinner than before, enough that I could feel his bones through his skin and muscles. He wasn’t stick thin or anything that drastic but it was a noticeable change. The smile on his face wasn’t even the same anymore. It was as if he was a ghost of his former self, which was a big part of why I felt the need to bring him with me to Memphis. I always felt sort of rejuvenated whenever I left and I hoped it would have the same effect on him.

“Come on down for breakfast, girl. Your Mamaw made all your favorites,” Poppy said as he stuck his head into the doorway.

“Again? I’m going to weigh a ton by the time I leave here,” I said, walking over to my stereo and switching it off. “Besides, Trace and Rachael are going to be here soon,” I added, looking out the window and sighed again. Leave it to Trace to be notoriously late. Does he not care about other people’s schedules? The little fucker.

“Now, Tyke, you know it’s bad to go riding on an empty stomach,” Poppy said as he crossed his arms over his chest. He tried to look stern but he looked more comical than anything. His hair was way into that salt-and-pepper affect and the glasses on the bridge of his nose made his eyes seem to be two times bigger than normal.

“But it will cut into my riding time,” I whined. “Please, Poppy, please? I’ll make it up; I’ll do dishes when I get back.” I even stuck my lip out for good measure but Poppy stood like a stone.

“Come on, girl, you have plenty of time for riding before you go.”

“Ok, fine, just let me change,” I said as I ushered him out. I searched the drawers for a few minutes before deciding on a black tank top, a blue plaid shirt, and dark jeans along with my favorite pair of cowboy boots. I quickly pulled my hair back into two braids and grabbed my tan bucket hat and ran down the stairs into the kitchen. “Morning everyone!” I chirped, going around the table to kiss Momma, Daddy, Mike, Mamaw, and Poppy on the cheek before sitting down and instantly reaching for the pan of baked apples.

“Mornin’ Gorgeous. What do you have planned for today?” Daddy asked, taking the bowl that I held out to him and handing out the biscuits to me.

“Trace and Rachael are going to come over soon and we’re going to go horseback riding,” I replied, grabbing the baked good of the heavens and taking a bite, smiling in content. Nothing beats homemade biscuits, no matter how cute the Pillsbury Doughboy was. “Other than that I have to do costume approvals, dance rehearsal, and I have to get some homework done.” I grabbed the spoon that was in the honey and spread it over my biscuit. “I have to do this paper on my hero and I’m stuck so I figured riding would help the juices flow.”

“Wouldn’t you rather do homework first?” Momma asked. I licked some honey off of my tongue and shook my head, doing my best to ignore the disapproving look on her face.

“I would, but Liam’s grillin’ me about the approvals and I need to get them out of the way first.”

“Dear, you have to keep your schedule open around four o’clock today,” Mamaw said as she poured orange juice into her glass. Oh no. She said it in that way that I had to do it and it wasn’t a suggestion. I let out a little sigh and leaned back in my chair, preparing myself for her catastrophic news (there wasn’t any other kind with her, unfortunately). It took me a few seconds but I was finally able to ask that one word question.

“Why?” I asked, shoving a forkful of apples into my mouth and smiling at the cinnamon taste. I gave Poppy a thumbs up and he chuckled. Whatever it was she had to say I’m sure the apples would be able to blunt the bad news…

“Because you start your cotillion class today,” Mamaw replied.

Ok, maybe not. I almost choked on my apples as I tried to gasp. This, in twenty-twentyhindsight, was not a good idea. Mike gently hit my back as I coughed a bit. “I have to what!?” I cried out. Was she nuts? Absolutely crazy? Did I need to sign her up for a space in the Loony Bin all ready?  I figured you got there when you hit your eighties or something. And seriously, cotillion? Does she not know me at all? It must be those four inch thick glasses.

“Go to your cotillion class,” Mamaw repeated calmly as she daintily picked up a piece of bacon and took a bite. She chewed, swallowed, and dabbed her mouth before she continued to speak. Who took that long to eat bacon anyway? “You’re almost seventeen, dear, and that means your cotillion is coming up soon. We need to cram in as many classes as we can. You need to learn proper etiquette, dance, deportment, and other social graces—”

“I dance just fine,” I protested. She frowned at my interruption, which was basically a sin to her.

“Yes, but you dance in a way that do not--how should I say this?—reflect well on your society,” she replied. My lip twitched at her words and I looked at Mom and Dad. Mom had stopped chewing and Dad had his fist pressed to his mouth. They were both looking at Mamaw but they weren’t saying anything. Way to be supportive, you totally win the Parent of the Year Award.

“So I have to go to those stupid teas where they make you stick your pinky up and learn about social graces and go to other events with those stuck up, snobs?” I asked, squinting. “Heck no!”

“Dear, watch your language!,” Mamaw scolded as if I had just cursed her five ways from Sunday. Trust me; that was barely scratching the surface of what I could’ve said. “Besides, your mother went through cotillion and she turned out just fine.”

“She and Dad ended up divorced if that’s what you call fine,” I replied, tapping my fork against my plate. I knew it was a low blow but any opportunity I had to get out of this I would grab. “She was also a pageant girl but I guess you don’t see the problem with that either.”

“You need to learn how to exhibit grace under pressure,” Mamaw said patiently. “The world you’re getting into, it’s not one that I would’ve chosen for you, but it’s hard and pressure is pushing at you at all sides and the last thing this family needs is for you to disgrace our name by being put in the middle of a scandal.”

“Mother!” Momma gasped as Poppy patted the back of Mamaw’s hand. Mike let out an amused snort. Daddy pinched the bridge of his nose and I didn’t know whether or not I should throw the rest of my apples at Mamaw or scratch more marks into the table with my fingernails. Decisions, decisions…

“I’m not just going to go running out into the streets and yell that my family is crazy or anything, Mamaw. I’m being trained on how to answer questions and to keep my family life and personal life private,” I said after a few deep breaths. Mamaw pursed her lips as if she had just chugged sour lemonade. I swear, I can’t please the woman.  “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, Mamaw, but I’m going to have to decline going to those classes,” I said, pushing away my plate, hating that my appetite left me.

Silence hung in the air like a bad smell, except for Mike who was still eating as if the conversation didn’t just happen. I couldn’t help but laugh a little a she lifted his head and winked at me. I was amazed at how Mike could easily diffuse a bad situation, which happened to turn up a lot in this family.

Mamaw put down her fork with a loud clatter and stood up so fast her chair toppled over. She then picked up everyone’s plates around the table in a hurried fashion, even if food was stuck to it. “I’m not finished with that!” I protested as she picked up my plate so fast it almost took off my nose.

“I think you are,” Mamaw said softly, dumping the food into different Tupperware containers before dropping the plates into the sink with a loud crash. I was surprised they didn’t break.

“Momma,” I said turning to her. Momma sighed and shrugged her shoulders. I groaned. Fuck, this wasn’t the vacation I wanted. I turned my head when I heard a rapping sound at the kitchen door and saw Rachael and Trace waving frantically through the glass and screen door. I pushed back my chair, the legs scraping against the floor. I smiled at the familiar sound. “If you’ll excuse me, I have some friends to see,” I said as I grabbed my hat. “It’s about time you got here,” I grumbled, as I stepped onto the porch.

“Uh-oh, what’d Mamaw say this time?” Rachael asked sympathetically, putting a hand on my shoulder as we moved down the porch and walked in the direction of the horse pen. It was about a fifteen minute walk. We could easily drive but Rachael says exercise is better for us. I guess she likes hearing Trace complain.

“Let’s just say she thinks I need to go to cotillion classes. I mean, what the hell would give her the idea that I need to take those boring snooze-fest classes?” I demanded.

“It can’t be because of your colorful vocabulary,” Trace said sarcastically.

“You curse more than I do,” I pointed out.

“Yeah but you don’t see me going to those classes.”

“You won’t see me there either ‘cause I don’t want to go and I don’t have time,” I replied. “What with everything flying at me at once I barely have time to think.”

“That explains a lot,” Trace snickered.

Rachael and I smacked Trace on the back of the head. “How’s preparation coming? Have you wrapped your head around the fact that you’re going to be rubbing elbows with the Hollywood Elite in five days?” She asked.

“I still haven’t come to terms that I won’t be with the guys from March until, like, December,” I replied, pressing my hat down over my head, shielding the bright sun.

“Don’t you think Liam is asking a bit too much of you?” Trace asked.

“It’s good promotion,” I said with a shrug. “And I won’t do nearly as much as the others so I can still call you guys every day or whatever.”

“Up until you get famous,” Trace corrected. “Then you’ll forget about us and where you got your start.” This again? Really?

“Don’t be so over dramatic. I won’t ever forget Memphis,” I said as we finally made it to the horse pen. A guy around six feet was leading Bluebelle around the gated area. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Rachael tucking her hair behind her ears. Weird. “You work here? I’ve never seen you around,” I commented as I sat on top of the small fence and held out my hands. The guy let Bluebelle go and she walked over to me, nudging my palm with her nose.

“I started working here since the New Year,” he replied, his accent thick. He tipped his head in Trace’s and Rachael’s direction. “You must be Mackenzie,” he said with a bright white smile.

“I must be. And you are…?” I questioned.

“Calvin, little lady. Calvin Turner, but everyone calls me Cal.” He touched the brim of his hat. “It’s nice to finally meet ya. I’ve heard a lot about you from Rachael and Trace.” He then turned to the two. “Howdy Trace, Rachael. Want me to set up Ghost and Rebel Wind?”

“We’d appreciate it, Cal,” Trace replied.

I continued to rub Bluebelle’s nose as Cal walked in the direction of the stables. “So what’s the story on him?” I asked, brushing some dirt away from Bluebelle’s eye.

“You mean despite the fact that he looks like a younger version of the Marlboro Man?” Trace asked. He motioned with his finger for me to lean closer. “He goes to our school. Moved here in December, came in January. He’s the grandson of Fletcher Turner, which is why he works here. He’s caught the eye of every girl at school.” He raised his eyebrows as he let his words sink in.

“No way!” I exclaimed once it hit me. Trace nodded and smiled. “Rachael likes this guy? Do they ever talk?”

“All the time, actually, only because our horses are here. She’s offered to help him take care of the place too,” Trace said with a little laugh.

“Finally! Payback is mine,” I sighed in content, grabbing Bluebelle’s reins and moving her over so I could swing up and onto her back. “So how much does she like this guy?”

“Why?”

“It’ll determine how much I get to make fun of her judging by how much she made fun of me,” I replied with a grin.

“You’re too cruel,” he muttered.

“Cool? Why, yes I am, Trace. Why’d it take you so long to figure that out?” I teased. He rolled his eyes and walked over to Cal who was leading Ghost and Rebel Wind out of the stables.

“Cal’s going to ride with us. I said you guys wouldn’t mind,” Rachael announced as I urged Bluebelle forward. I shrugged and was about to turn Bluebelle around when I noticed something odd. When in the world had she managed to put on lip-gloss?

“No, we don’t mind. Do we, Trace?” I asked, turning to him with an amused smile.

“No, we don’t mind at all,” he added, snickering slightly as he climbed onto Rebel Wind’s back and steadied the antsy horse. I pointed at him and shook my head. He widened his eyes innocently and moved Rebel Wind over so Cal had room to move his horse in the gap. “So, where are we riding? The creek or the meadow?”

“The creek. I can’t stay away too long or else Grandpa Fletcher will tan my hide,” Cal replied. Rachael let out a very un-Rachael-like giggle. I chuckled, flicked the reigns against Bluebelle’s back, and urged her forward.

We eased our horses down the flattened path and stayed quiet, looking around the scenery. A few minutes into the ride Cal and Rachael trailed behind as Trace and I raced to the creek. I leaned close to Bluebelle’s neck, clutching her body with my knees, trying to get as aerodynamic as possible.

“Ha, I win,” Trace laughed, punching his fists into the air.

“Hey, I haven’t been here for a while, I’m rusty,” I whined, pulling at the reigns to slow her down.

“Excuses, excuses,” he said with a wave of his hand. “I won, you lost, get used to it.”

I huffed. “You can be a real jackass sometimes.”

“I’m not as bad as Justin can get,” Trace replied, sliding off of Rebel Wind’s back and leading him to a tree branch to tie up his reigns so he wouldn’t get away.

“Justin gets cocky, I’ll admit that, but he’s not a jackass,” I defended, leading Bluebelle over to the tree.

“You would defend him.”

I paused and looked down at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that Justin still can pull the wool over your eyes,” Trace replied leaning a palm against the trunk and resting his weight on his hand.

“Not you too,” I sighed.

“Mack, I’ve stood by for years and watched as you repeatedly let Justin walk all over you. I just don’t get why you let him do it, I don’t get it at all.” I opened my mouth to protest but he shot me a warning glare and I pressed my lips together. “He’s the one who got you your dancing job but I didn’t even hear you give it a second thought. It was as if he just signed your name for you.”

“Trace, you know I’ve always wanted to be a choreographer,” I protested.

“Yes, but did you really think about what that job entails?” He demanded, lifting an eyebrow.

“Of course, a lot of travel and I get to meet new people,” I said as I dropped off Bluebelle’s back.

“No, that means Justin gets to hold you under his thumb,” Trace said with an eye roll.

“That’s not true,” I sighed.

“Is it? I’ll bet you that Justin tries every way he can to stop you from going on that tour with the Backstreet Boys. He’ll try to twist everything to his favor so you can open for them, even though logically that wouldn’t make sense, but I wouldn’t put it past him because he always gets his way.”

I rubbed my forehead. “I’ll deal with Justin when I have to, ok?” I slid off of Bluebell’s back and patted her side. “I’m really getting tired of you guys talking crap about him all the time.”

Trace let out a bitter laugh. “Oh my god, he still has you wrapped around his finger. You’re fucking whipped, that’s what you are.”

“I am not, shut up!” I hissed, dropping Bluebelle’s reigns. Don’t go off on him, don’t go off. Count to ten…

“Why do you let him walk all over you? Huh? What happened to you? He’s taking over your life.”

“Shut up, Trace!” I snarled.

“You know, Justin’s not the only one who’s here for you,” he grumbled. I let out a slow breath and turned away from him, still frustrated. “Hey lovebirds, what took you so long?” He suddenly yelled, causing me to jump. I turned and saw Cal and Rachael who finally came down the path.

“You guys raced ahead of us,” Rachael pointed out.

“Yeah but it doesn’t take two hours to get here,” I said, putting my hands on my hips. “Hey Rach?”

“Yeah?” She asked, looking down at me from her horse.

“You might want to take a look in a mirror.”

“What? Why?” She asked in slight alarm.

“Because you have hearts in your eyes.” I smirked.

“Shut up,” she snapped, blushing. She paused and her eyes shifted back and forth, as if waiting for Trace or me to say something. “Umm, did I miss something?”

“No,” I responded before Trace could speak. “Nothing important.” I forced a smile.

***

“You put chocolate into your chili?” Jonathan asked, leaning over the pot that I was stirring. As soon as I had gotten back from horseback riding I had taken a shower and tried to sit down and do my homework. When I wasn’t doing that I was answering phone calls from my management about finalizing things for the tour from lighting all the way down to sound systems (which I knew jack shit about). The day had gone by quickly and the next thing I knew I was baby-sitting Jonathan for Mr. Timberlake and helping Lynn with dinner. We always had dinner at the Harless place. It wasn’t even questioned anymore.

“Yes, it’s my secret recipe. Now sssshh,” I hissed, bringing my finger up to my mouth. He mimicked my actions and giggled glancing at Lynn who was swiftly chopping onions on the other side of the kitchen. “I make the best chili in all of Memphis.” I then lowered my voice. “But don’t tell Miss Sadie that. She thinks she’s better than me but she’s not. She’s great at a lot of things but her chili’s not better than mine. That’s our secret, ok?”

“Ok!” Jonathan chirped.

“That’s my boy,” I said, planting a loud kiss on his cheek as he giggled. I broke off a piece of the chocolate that was sitting on the edge of the counter and broke that in half, handing it to him. “Now, don’t tell anyone we’re sneaking chocolate before dinner.” Jonathan held a finger up to his mouth before popping the candy into his mouth. I smiled and did the same.

“I saw that,” Lynn chirped. I gave her a sheepish smile and she laughed. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone as long as you set the table.”

“Deal.”

“Dinner smells good,” Mike said as he came into the kitchen.

“Thanks Mike,” I said as I grabbed a bowl and added corn to it. “It should be done in twenty minutes, a half hour tops.”

“Good, Trace is complaining about you not cooking fast enough or something.”

“He better be happy I haven’t kicked him out,” I grumbled. “Jonathan, do me a favor and keep Uncle Trace company,” I said as I picked him up and put him on the floor. I ruffled his hair before he took off for the living room. “So what’s on that small mind of yours?” I asked with a teasing smile.

“Speaking of small, the munchkins of Oz are looking for you,” Mike shot back.

“Ooh, good one. Where’d you get that, a gum wrapper?” I questioned as I turned back to the stove and added a slew of different types of beans. “Again I ask, what’s on your mind? You people know not to bother me when I’m cooking. I could make a mistake.”

“Heaven forbid,” Lynn said with a teasing smile. I stuck my tongue out at her and she put her hands on her hips. “Young lady, you were taught better than that,” she said with a laugh. I smiled sweetly and she swatted at my arm with a dish towel when I passed her and sat down in a chair at the kitchen table.

“I just wanted to know how you’re feeling,” he replied. I lifted my eyebrows. “What with your life going to change in the next few days, I wanted to know how you’re dealing with it.”

“I’m taking it one step at a time. Coming back here was what I needed. It helped me put everything into perspective, ya know? Just being here…I’m going to miss it because when I’m here I feel like myself.”

“I can tell, your accent is coming back,” he replied.

“It never went away. I just didn’t like using it,” I admitted.

“Why?”

“I was always teased by people because it was thick so I learned to speak without it.”

“Well, you should hide some of it. The accent is really strong,” Mike laughed. I stuck my tongue out at him. “No, I understand what you mean. I totally understand. I don’t know anything about the entertainment business, what with being an interior decorator and all—“

“Whoa! You’re an interior decorator!?” I laughed. “I never knew that. I thought you were a lawyer or something.”

“As I was saying I don’t know anything about the entertainment business but you do need something that will keep you grounded and, despite how much you’ve been trying to push it away, I think Memphis is it. You’re more alive here.”

“Aint that the truth,” Lynn said, placing a kiss on my forehead. I smiled and hugged her side as best as I could in my chair.

“There’s something magical about this place,” I sighed. “So, when are you going to propose to my mom?” I asked, turning the conversation a full 180. He didn’t even get a chance to respond when the phone rang but I didn’t budge, I just kept my eyes on him. There was no way he was going to get off the hook that easily.

“Sweetie—” Momma said as she appeared in the doorway of the kitchen.

“I am not doing that cotillion thing no matter what Mamaw says,” I interrupted her.

“I wasn’t going to say that,” Momma laughed. “Geeze, still one to jump the gun. I was going to say that you have a phone call.”

“Who is it?” I asked, looking over at her.

“Some guy named Alex,” she replied, holding the phone out.

I pointed my fingers at my eyes and then pointed them at Mike before taking the phone. Did I know an Alex? “Hello?” I answered.

“Um…hi.”

I bit my lip. I knew that uniquely raspy voice anywhere. “Hi, AJ. How are you?” I responded, rubbing my forehead.

“I’m doing good. I’m doing good,” he replied, somewhat hesitant. God, this is awkward. “Look, um the reason I called was to, um…I just wanted to make sure…um.” He sighed. “The tour’s coming up and we’re going to be stuck together for a while and I don’t think we should be on bad terms or anything.”

“I agree,” I replied, slapping at Mike’s hand that was reaching for the cookies that were sitting in the middle of the table.

“You do?”

“Yes. Why?”

“I just…I didn’t think you’d listen to me. Or take my call at all, for that matter.”

“Yeah, well, I’m unpredictable like that,” I sighed.

“Look, about what I said…I know you probably won’t believe me but I didn’t mean a thing I said.” I stayed silent and pursed my lips. “I mean that. I just…I was just…” he sighed. “I can’t make excuses and I did what I did but I’m trying to fix it and I was hoping that you’d forgive me—us! The others had nothing to do with it, it was all me, but they want to make sure everything’s ok as well.”

I grumbled under my breath and rubbed my temples as Momma and Mike continued to watch me pace around the kitchen. I really just wanted to hang up on him but then Momma would say something along the lines of needing to know when to be the strong one and forgive someone despite what happened and blah blah blah. “Ok, listen carefully ‘cause I’m only going to say this once. What you said hurt me, I don’t even care if it was the truth or not, it really hurt. For the sake of this tour and for the sake of my sanity I’m willing to put this behind us. But that doesn’t mean that I’ll forget what you said. Now, this doesn’t mean I forgive you. I don’t think I will for a while but I want to just move on from this whole thing and look forward to the future. Ok?”

“Ok, that’s…that’s good. I deserve it, I know that. Thanks for not hanging up on me. If I were you I would’ve hung up.”

“You caught me in a good mood,” I replied.

“Well, good I guess. Oh, and ‘Tima had no right to do you like that. You didn’t have to apologize, really it was on me.”

“Fatima doesn’t do anything unless she has a good reason so…” I looked around to try and find a way to get off the line. The awkwardness was bothering me. “I have to go. I’ll see you…on the 18th I think? Liam said something about wanting to rehearse the whole thing to see how much time it takes.”

“Yeah, yeah. See you then. Bye.”

“Bye.” I hung up the phone and gave it back to Momma. “Where’s Dad?” I asked.

“I think he’s taking a nap,” she replied.

“Thanks.” I quickly left the kitchen, moved through the living room, and went up stairs to find Dad. It was weird having Momma, Mike, and Daddy all in the same house. Daddy and Momma didn’t share the same bedroom anymore, she and Mike do now. Dad’s in the guest room, as if he were the guest. “Dad, you awake?” I asked, pushing open the door.

He stirred on the bed and lifted the hand that was covering his eyes, looked at me, and smiled. “Yeah, I’m awake. What’s going on?” He asked, motioning for me to lie on the bed next to him. I rested my head on his chest and my palm on his stomach, much like I did when I was a kid.

“I just wanted to see how you’re doing,” I replied.

“I’m fine.”

“Really, Dad,” I said as I sat up to look at him.

He laughed and petted my head. “I’m being honest, I’m fine. The way I see it this cancer is a good thing.”

“What? Why?”

“Because now I can see life through a different perspective,” he replied. “Now I know I won’t take my time for granted.”

I started to pick my nails. “Hey Dad, why did you and Mom get divorced?” I asked quietly.

“Don’t think it’s because of you,” he said in a warning tone.

I shrugged. “I can’t help it.”

“Sweetie, us getting divorced has nothing to do with you,” he said firmly. “We just…fell out of love, to put it simply. I still love her, I always will, I’m just not in love with her.”

“Do you like Mike?” I asked.

“Mike’s a great guy, I’m happy for her, honest.”

“What if he asks her to marry him?”

He paused and let out a breath. “I’ll have to deal with it, won’t I? What about you? Would you be ok if he asked her to marry him?”

“I…I don’t know,” I replied honestly. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while. I like Mike a lot but…I don’t think I could see him as my new dad.”

“He wouldn’t be a new dad, just another dad.” I didn’t respond.  He looked at me in that specific way that always got me talking. “What’s on your mind, kiddo? I know it’s not about me or your mother or Mike.”

“AJ called,” I replied. His forehead crinkled. “You know, from the Backstreet Boys.”

“The tattooed one?” He questioned. I nodded. “Right. What’d he call about?”

“He wanted to make sure everything between us was fine. Didn’t want any hard feeling s while we were on tour.”

“Ok, I don’t see the problem.”

I sighed. “It still bothers me what he said.”

“Sweetie, take it from me, you shouldn’t dwell on something that means so little in this big world. If you spend most of your time holding a grudge you won’t get past it and you won’t have fun.”

“I hate it when you do that.”

“Do what?’

“When you say the right thing,” I said with a tiny smile.

“It’s in my job description,” he joked.

“I love you, Dad.”

“Je t’aime aussi, ma petite fleur. I love you, too.”