“In light of the situation, the label is willing to forgive all costs related to this incident as long as you promise to end all contact with Mr. Cade Archer, as it is upsetting Daphne.”
Her head spun. So they were going to force her to give up Cade? “He’s going to want to hear from me—”
“We can arrange for a new phone for you. You can send him a message telling him you no longer wish to see him.”
Like Cade would buy that. Still, it was hard for her to think. Her head was throbbing madly, and there were papers with numbers and threats spread all over her lap. How could she possibly take care of her responsibilities if they were going to fine her this much money?
How could she possibly avoid becoming a burden again? At this rate, she’d be back in a cardboard box under a bridge once more.
She reached for her wedding rings, found them still on her finger, though all the others had been removed by hospital staff. Of course they had. She twisted the rings, turning the beautiful red ruby outward. Then, with a meek look, she showed Mr. Powers. “I married him.”
“You what?”
She winced and clutched at her head. “Vegas. We got married in Vegas.”
“Oh.” Mr. Powers’s shoulders relaxed. “That’s easy enough to fix. I’ll draw up annulment papers. Vegas weddings are discarded all the time.” His glare fixed on her. “We don’t need to inform Daphne of this, do we?”
“No,” she breathed, wanting to cry and puke all at once. “I guess we don’t.”
“Good. I’ll be back tomorrow with some papers for you to sign. Daphne’s assistant is going to remain at your side to ensure you don’t receive any visitors or call anyone.” He gave her a tight smile. “I’m glad we could work things out, Miss Daniels.”
“Sure,” she said listlessly. Her head hurt so badly that she wanted to scream.
“Perfect,” Mr. Powers said. He gathered his paperwork and returned it to his briefcase, and Kylie closed her eyes. She wished he would just go away.
She wished this entire situation would just go away.
But when she opened her eyes again, Powers was gone, and Snoopy was gazing at her, an unhappy expression on her face.
“I heard,” she said, her voice sympathetic. “The label’s giving you the shakedown because Daphne’s being a brat, huh?” She tucked the blankets around Kylie’s legs and then offered her a cup of ice chips. “While you’re in the hospital, too? That’s shitty.”
Kylie took the ice greedily, putting a few flakes of it on her tongue to wet her dry mouth. She still felt as if she were going to vomit, but she wasn’t sure if that was the concussion or just her general misery over the situation.
“So,” Snoopy asked. “Did you really marry that guy?”
Kylie nodded, fighting back tears.
“Forgive me for asking, but . . . isn’t he rich? Couldn’t you go to him and say, ‘Hey, the label’s being a dick and I need help’? Wouldn’t he help you?”
“It’s not that simple,” Kylie whispered. “The label would charge me for all of Daphne’s tour. I don’t know how many millions that would be.”
“Oh Jesus,” said Snoopy. “I’m guessing lots of them.”
She nodded. “And we’re barely dating, you know? The wedding thing was a drunk fluke, a mistake.” Kylie twisted the ring on her finger. She didn’t want it to be a mistake, but it couldn’t really be called anything else, could it? They wouldn’t have made the same decisions sober. “I don’t feel like I can go to him with money problems when the money problems might run into the millions. Or tens of millions.”
“Why not?”
“Because . . .” Because then he might realize he likes me, but doesn’t like me quite that much. And because I’ll always owe him. He’ll always have something to hold over my head, like the label is right now. And when things go south, as they inevitably do—always—I need to be able to stand on my own two feet.
Because I’m tired of being someone’s burden. “Because I’m tired of owing people.”
“I understand,” Snoopy said. She thumped into the chair next to Kylie’s hospital bed. “I don’t know about you, but I am mighty sick of this damn tour, Fat Marilyn.”
Kylie winced and put her hands to her temples. Yeah, that small touch made her brain feel like it was about to explode. “Kylie. Call me Kylie.”
“I don’t blame you. Fat Marilyn’s as shitty a name as Snoopy.” Snoopy looked over at Kylie. “My real name’s Carmela.” She shrugged. “I guess it could have been worse. She could have called me Pig-Pen.”
Laughing hurt. Kylie giggled, but it soon turned into too much pain, and fresh tears blurred her vision. She closed her eyes and lay back on the pillow, wishing the world would go away.
No Cade. Not for her.
She couldn’t even call him to explain. To tell him that he was wonderful, but she couldn’t be a burden on him. Not like she was to Jerred. Not like her nana was to Kylie. She wouldn’t do that to another person. Maybe it was stubbornness. Or pride. Or both. But there were no choices. Nana Sloane needed a safe place to live where people could look after her and care for her. And Kylie was her only remaining family left, so it fell on her shoulders. That was the least she could do for the woman who had worked two jobs she’d despised to give Kylie a roof over her head, if not love.
Then again, maybe it was a good thing that Nana Sloane hadn’t known how to love Kylie. Sometimes it seemed like love was nothing but burdens. Maybe she was lucky in that the label was going to step in and force all responsibility for her relationship out of her hands.