Page 65 of A Song for Another Woman

“They’re letters.”

“They're assets.”

My hand closes around the phone while the bandage pulls at my palm. “That right there is why you didn’t get to hear them first.”

“Do you understand the story you’re sitting on? The wife. The muse. The truth behind ‘Wildfire.’ Jesus Christ, this could sell a stadium.”

The old reflex twitches in me. Numbers. Heat. The clean little thrill of knowing a room wants what I have. Then I look at the lyric sheet on the table:Drawer Sketch,Backroad Girl,The Man I Became.

“No,” I say.

“No?”

“The second there’s a transaction attached, it becomes a performance. I’m done performing loving her.”

Duke laughs once, sharp and disbelieving. “You think this isn’t a performance? You dropped love songs onto the internet for the woman currently refusing to speak to you.”

“I’m not asking her for anything.”

Duke’s voice lowers. “Silver Creek is going to lose its mind.”

“They can get in line.”

“You’re still under contract.”

“For commercial releases.”

“You think legal won’t argue?”

“They can argue with free.”

“You’re burning bridges.”

“I’ve gotten good at watching things burn.”

Another silence. When Duke speaks again, some of the anger has drained out, leaving the part of him that has known me too long. “Cade. Is she worth all this?”

I stare at the little red recording light, steady in the dark. “No,” I say.

Cy’s head turns.

“She's worth more than anything I could possibly offer."

Duke exhales. “You're impossible right now.”

“I was impossible before. This is me trying to be honest.”

“Honesty with no strategy is just bleeding in public.”

I look at my hand. “Maybe.”

“Call me before you post anything else.”

“I won’t.”

“Cade.”

I hang up before he can turn my wife into a campaign calendar.