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“Well, what does this mean?” Parker paces in front of me as I sit on the couch.

“You still don’t know why he canceled? Surely the internet has the answers,” Margot asks. She’s braiding my hair for me on the couch, something that usually calms me, but my nerves are a hot mess.

“I wouldn’t believe everything you read on the internet.” Harriet sways in front of my marble fireplace as she tries to get Ethan to sleep; he’s having none of it, staring up at his mom, cooing and gurgling.

The three of them were at my house waiting for me when I got home. It was a small drop of relief in an ocean of chaos. I caved and googled the details of his shows. Tonight he was due to perform in Santa Clara, the last stop on his tour, where he would perform two shows.

“I know better than to read the tabloids. I just…I just hope he’s okay.”

“Of course you do.” Margot runs a hand over the braid hanging over my shoulder. “He’s still your husband. What did his mom say?”

“She hasn’t heard anything. She’s tried contacting Howard and the label.” My fingernails bite into my palm as I lower my gaze. “I tried calling him, but it went to voicemail.”

Parker and Harriet share a look.

“What?” I surge forward, but Margot reins me in and massages my scalp.

My three best friends are a beautiful mix of personalities. Margot is our sweet, nurturing boho babe, with sleek black hair and a heart of gold. If you want patience and a voice of reason, Harriet, our blonde bombshell, is your girl. Then there’s Parker, the tattooed wildcard. Need a body hiding? She’s already taken care of it.

They all bring something to the table, and without them, I wouldn’t have survived the last year. Even when I clam up or avoid discussing Tate, their support has never wavered.

Parker crouches in front of me. “Babe, I know the news about Tate has come as a shock, but you haven’t spoken about the man in months. I guess we’re a little confused about what’s going on between the two of you.”

She turns to Harriet. “When the copyright shit went down, you were a huge help, even though I knew it hurt you to hear his name.” Guilt lines her face. “The thing is, when I was at the settlement meeting… Ugh, I should’ve been honest with you…”

“Harry, you’re freaking me out. Please cool it with the dramatic pauses,” I plead.

“I saw Tate,” she blurts. “He was the one who drove me to the hospital when I went into labor.”

My heart stills.

“Did you speak to him?” I croak and scramble to sit on my knees. “How was he? Did he seem well?” Did he ask about me?

“Honestly? He looked miserable, Tals, but I don’t think it had anything to do with what’s happening now.” She strokes Ethan’s downy head of hair. “He misses you, and even though you don’t talk about him, we know you miss him.”

The backs of my eyes sting. Tate is the epitome of happiness, and it takes a lot to make him miserable.

“You could have told me.” The second the words are out of my mouth, I regret them. That isn’t fair.

Parker throws me a look. “I don’t think we could have. You basically forbid us from mentioning his name. We don’t listen to the radio, not since you started sobbing the last time they played one of his songs. We love and support you no matter what, but it’s becoming harder to do that when we don’t understand the full story.”

Shame assaults me. She’s right. My therapist told me I let my pride stand in my way more often than not, and this is a prime example.

Margot ties off the braid and loops an arm over my shoulder. “Is there something else going on that we don’t know about?”

I peer up at my friends. “Tate didn’t exactly leave town voluntarily. Or he didn’t at first.”

Three pairs of pitying gazes burn into me.

“What do you mean?” Harriet asks.

I release a breath. This is long overdue.

“From the moment the record label took an interest in him, everything changed. Plans and commitments were forgotten. He was hardly ever home, and when he was, all we did was argue.” I stare at my nails, the polish chipped from my nervous picking. “Then he signed the contract without consulting me, bought us this house, the truck, and I panicked. It felt like he didn’t belong here anymore, and my brain told me sending him away was safer than watching him leave me willingly.”

“And he just left?” Parker frowns.

Tate isn’t any less innocent in this than I am. We’re both guilty of saying and doing a lot of things that caused our downfall, and it’s unfair of me to let my friends think otherwise any longer. “He didn’t want to at first, but he was due to go on tour a few months later. I told him to give me space until…” Embarrassment burns my throat. I hate being weak. “I told him not to come back until his term with the label ended.”