Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 138287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
They were moving and heartfelt, and inspirational.
We had returned from touring two months ago and during the tour, I found that my love of The Vixens increased tenfold. Watching them headline for the first time was now in my top-five experiences of all time. I couldn’t have been prouder of my girls and when Micah and Amber announced that the label was ready for them to tour the US… well, I can’t say I was surprised.
In fact, I think what I actually said in the heat of the moment was, “About fucking time!”
So, when we arrived home and life had started to become normal again, I couldn’t help but notice Connor had started to wake in the middle of the night and lock himself into his studio. And then it wasn’t just at night. It was at all times of the day, sometimes for hours.
In a weak moment, I almost thought he was cheating on me.
Worst five minutes of my life.
Every time I would ask what he was doing in there, he would shut down and sometimes get a little defensive. That was when I realized he wasn’t going to tell me.
Part of me said to leave it alone.
The other part of me told me to wait until he was in the shower then make a run for it, gathering whatever information I could in that time.
And as Connor stood in the doorway, wet and wearing nothing but a towel, I think we all knew which part won out.
“Babe,” I whispered in awe. “This is amazing.”
But Connor just scowled. His lip thin, he uttered an aggravated, “It’s nothing. Just messing around.”
My brows rose at his attitude. He was clearly not happy at me having found what he was working on. “You wrote sixteen full-length songs. That’s not messing around. That’s an album.”
His scoff was derisive. “Stop.”
“Are you telling me you just wrote a whole bunch of songs for nothing?”
He walked over to where I sat and shut the lid of his laptop. “No. It’s just—” He hesitated. “It’s just that sometimes I feel like I work through my feelings better if I have an outlet.”
Oh.
My smile was small. “Okay. So, what are you calling this album?”
He rolled his eyes. “It’s not an album.”
My smile grew as he moved to walk away. “You could call it Feelings.”
“Ugh. God,” was the disgusted response I received as he left the room.
I gasped out loud, “Ooh, I know. You could call it Therapy!”
“Leave it alone, Emmy,” his booming voice came from the hall.
I laughed to myself.
We both knew this wasn’t the end of this conversation.
Eleven months later…
“And the Grammy for best album goes to,” The two ladies opened the envelope, looked at each other with a knowing smile and spoke into the microphone. “Connor Clash, Therapy.”
Applause sounded throughout the amphitheater but it sounded muted in my ears. My face slack, I turned to Connor and when his eyes met mine, all I saw there was confusion. And damned if it didn’t make me love him that little bit more.
Heart racing, I grabbed onto Connor’s shoulders and shook him a little. “Connor,” I tried to speak over the mounting cheers. A wide smile stretched at my cheeks, I chuckled, “You won.” My chuckle turned into laughter. “You won, sweetie.” I pushed at his shoulders. “Get up there!”
Baffled, Connor stood and walked forward, approaching the stage, taking the steps two at a time. The woman handed him his statuette and hugged him lightly. The crowd hushed and Connor looked down at the award a long time before he took to the podium, speaking into the microphone. “I don’t know what to say.” He thought about it. “I didn’t write a speech because I didn’t plan on winning. So—” He huffed out a surprised laugh, “—I guess I’m wingin’ it.”
Connor took a moment and when he spoke again, I listened intently. “I have to dedicate this to my wife, Emmy.” He pointed right at me and my heart skipped a beat. “There she is. The goddess in white” His grin was wide. “Look at that hottie. Be jealous. That’s all mine.” The crowd chuckled at his display. Meanwhile, I flushed feverishly.
Bright lights covered me and I lifted my hand in a small wave while whispering to myself, “Oh no. You’re going to pay, Clash.”
For a second, he spoke directly to me. “I’d like to thank you, baby, for gently bullying me into believing in myself. Yes, I’m probably the first person in the world to admit that my wife’s nagging paid off.”
I bit my lip to stop myself from laughing.
Things took a serious turn as he then spoke to the crowd. “I’d be dead if it weren’t for that woman.” He took pause. “I did some awful things and even though I hurt her, she looked after me. I regret so much and, baby, I’m sorry for how we started.” He looked straight at me. “But I’m not sorry where we ended up.” He spoke fondly, meaningfully, and I felt my throat tighten.