Page 70 of You Found Me
She felt like she’d won a major victory. She beamed at him. “I don’t know yet. Let’s go shopping.”
The next morning, Della popped out of bed with a sense of purpose she hadn’t felt in ages. She spent an hour putting together an outfit she thought Lucy wouldn’t mind wearing to a meet-the-boyfriend’s-family event.
She paired dark jeans with a navy boat neck T-shirt, a cropped jacket—no rhinestones or glitter of any kind—and black ankle boots, then studied the effect in the mirror.
The redhead looking back at her was a stranger.
Della wore sparkly dresses and heels to parties.
Lucy wore plain denim and boots.
She turned this way and that to check out the effect from all angles.
Lucy looked pretty damn good. Definitely girl-next-door hot, even if the fiery red curls did give her an edge not usually seen in a small town.
It wasn’t the kind of hot she normally went for, but she could see it growing on her.
Satisfied that she would fit in at Ward’s family gathering, Della went downstairs.
Ward wore a similar outfit to her own: a navy pullover and dark jeans. It made him look younger and less intense.
“Hey, we match,” she told him. “We’re one ofthosecouples.”
His eyes narrowed.
Was that disapproval? Irritation?
She didn’t know why she’d wanted or expected him to be pleased about how she looked. It wasn’t like they were actually dating.
“It’ll work.” He hefted Mason’s birthday gift, a Gibson guitar in a custom case complete with carrying strap, onto his shoulder. “Still can’t believe I let you talk me into this thing.”
She toyed with the enormous red bow, making sure it lay exactly right. “It’s perfect.”
“It cost more than my first car.” He opened the door. “This has to be the most expensive guitar ever made.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said as she led the way to the truck. “It’s the cheap side of acceptable. A professional guitar costs three times what you spent. Minimum.”
“A professional makes a living with their guitar. Theyshouldpay more. This is Mason’s hobby, not his career.” Ward placed the guitar on the seat between them.
“You don’t know that. He’s barely eighteen. What if football doesn’t work out?”
Ward backed out of the drive and turned down the road toward town. “I don’t think starting a band is his fallback. He’s going for a business degree.”
“Boring.” It struck her that she’d never even considered doing anything else with her life. She’d stepped onstage when she was eight and never looked back.
It was a fantastic life. She had her sisters and music, and there was always a party somewhere.
As she watched the asphalt turn to cobblestones, and concrete strip malls shift to red brick storefronts, she wondered what her life might have been like if she hadn’t picked up that first microphone.
“Did you like living here?” She didn’t know why she’d asked, but now that she had, she really wanted to know. She shifted in her seat so she could see his face.
He checked his side mirror. “Sure.”
“That doesn’t sound very enthusiastic.”
He shrugged. “It was home.”
“Everybody here has a work-all-week, then go-out-on-Friday-night kind of life, don’t they?”