32
CAMPBELL
We didn’t leave the studio until after nine that night. I rubbed my eyes as I drove the Ferrari back into the Hills. I’d promised Blaire that I’d pick her up and drive with the top down, but it hadn’t worked out. Studio days were always long days. I just hadn’t anticipated it.
I’d sent a car to drive her back up to my house on one of our breaks and told her about the dinner options. I had nothing in my fridge or pantry, thanks to the tour and then months in Lubbock, but some places delivered at least.
She’d assured me that it was fine. But we’d only been in the city for a few days, and already, I was breaking promises. Was this how Michael felt? Was this the reason he’d left us?
It was too heavy for me to think about. My fingers were cramping for the first time in years. T
