A/N and Disclaimer: I own nothing as always thanks for reading and supporting me. Stay safe and warm out there unless you are living in another country or state with perpetual sunshine. Please forgive all my errors this chapter was rushed and a lot of content was deleted but I tried to keep the most important points. Two more chapters to go...
Chapter 14
Sam
Nashville, Tennessee
December 22
Sam woke up hazy, with absolutely no clue what had happened the day before. It had been a long time since he'd had a hangover, and he lay still for some time with his hands over his eyes.
"Happy Birthday," Stacie sang, from the doorway. Sam squinted at her in the semi darkness as she set a wrapped present on the bedside table.
"It's a book. Two hundred and fifty arts and crafts projects. Figured based on everything that's been going on, you're probably up to your eyeballs in art supplies."
"Stacie, it's the middle of the night." Sam put his hands back over his eyes. His voice was hoarse, like he'd been singing for hours.
"Actually, Samuel—it's almost nine."
Sam let out a groan. He was normally at the studio by seven.
"Dad wanted me to make you that disgusting concoction that he used to drink, but I brought you some coffee instead."
"Thanks, Stace." He sat up and took a sip. "And thanks for the book."
Stacie went over to the windows and opened the blinds, letting in the sunshine in.
"Whoa!" Sam shielded his eyes with his arm. "Give a guy a chance to fully wake up before you do that."
"No time for that. April called. She said, 'Get his hungover ass to the studio ASAP.' " Stacie put her hands on her hips, and it was then Sam noticed something new about his sister.
"Um, don't take this the wrong way, sis, but you look different."
She threw a pillow at him and he ducked, almost spilling coffee on his chest. "You know better than to ever comment on a woman's weight."
But then she smoothed her sweatshirt over her stomach, smiling. "I honestly can't believe it took you this long."
Sam's eyes widened. "Are you . . . ?"
"Pregnant? Yes I am Sam I am." Stacie rubbed her belly, grinning. "You're going to be an uncle, Samuel. Which means it's time to grow the hell up. I expect you to be a good role model for your nephew or niece."
"Stace, how did this happen?"
Stacie raised an eyebrow. "Do we need to talk about the birds and the bees?"
"Hush up." Sam scowled at his sister's teasing. "What I meant is that you aren't married."
"So what? Since when are you so old-fashioned?"
"Does Dad know?"
"Of course. I told him right away. He's pretty excited to be a grandpa. Already planning a trip for when the baby's born."
"Well, I'm really happy for you, Stace. Though I still think your guy, Rory, should get down on one knee, and soon by the looks of it."
Stacie laughed. "Maybe worry about your own love life, huh?"
"Don't remind me," Sam grumbled, and pushed the covers back, then swung his legs over the edge of the bed.
"Get dressed. I've walked McConaughey and there's breakfast waiting. See you downstairs, birthday boy." Stacie shut the door behind her.
He thought about Stacie's news, and that he was going to be an uncle. She was right. It was past time for him to grow the hell up.
Glancing at his phone, he saw a voicemail notification. It was from an unfamiliar number, and for a beat he hoped it might be Cedes. But he was disappointed to find out it was from Will, which was strange, because Will Schuester had never directly called him before. Regardless, it was a bit of good news. Will said he didn't need to come in until after lunch, something about a morning of meetings. It meant Sam had time for a long hot shower, versus a short cold one. He pushed off the bed and, after pausing to get his equilibrium, he headed to the shower.
Sam drove to the studio, then parked and checked his phone. Cedes had texted while he was driving. He felt a moment of lift, seeing her name on his screen. Maybe they could sort this out. He sure as hell was going to try.
Hey. Happy Birthday, Sam. Any chance you're feeling better and can get here soon? I really need you here.
He was confused. Will had said to come in after lunch. With a sinking feeling he realized something was off and that he never should have trusted that message from Will. Cedes needed him. No matter what had happened, he had promised himself he would be there for her.
Slamming his truck door, he picked up the pace as he raced inside, guitar over one shoulder and a squirming McConaughey under his arm. "Sorry, boy, no time for walking." But about twenty paces from the studio he abruptly stopped. McConaughey grunted with the change in momentum.
"What am I gonna say?" he murmured. As he ran through apologies in his mind, he remained rooted in place.
Then in a flash, something his mom had said to him the night she gave him the guitar flooded his mind. It was both strange and comforting to remember this—like the memory was a gift that he had received at precisely the right moment. Sam had allowed his privilege and ego to cloud his judgment. He had been so single-minded about proving how different he was from his father that he had lost his way.
Once he got to the studio, he grabbed the door's handle and took a deep breath. As he exhaled,he glanced through the small window, and then all the air left his body.
Cedes sat on a chair, with Will standing in front of her. But there wasn't nearly enough distance between them for two people who were no more than colleagues. Cedes seemed to be leaning toward Will. No, Will was leaning into her.
Sam was about to pull the door open, storm in there, and make Will back off. He no longer cared if Will worked on this song, or with him ever again.
But then Will leaned closer to Cedes, partially obscuring Cedes's face from Sam's view. He pulled the door's handle and then . . .Will was kissing Cedes, and Cedes was kissing him back!
Sam let go of the handle like it was a hot potato, backing up a few steps so quickly he nearly tripped over his own feet. Cedes and Will were together.
So, maybe photos lie, but there's no denying what I just saw, he thought as he strode away from the studio.
Sam was almost at the building's front door when he heard, "Hey, Sam. Want me to take McConaughey so you can get to work?"
Mason stood a few feet away; the smile on his face dropped as soon as he saw Sam's expression.
"Is everything okay, Sam? You look ill."
When Sam didn't respond, Mason added, "Should I let Cedes know you need a minute? Can I get you a glass of water? You're probably dehydrated after, well, you know, what happened yesterday."
"What happened yesterday?" Sam asked.
Mason gave him a curious look. "Well, the cemetery? The whiskey? I drove you home, in your truck?"
Sam stared at Mason, puzzled. "Right, sure. Hey, I don't mean to cut this short, but I need to go," he said. "But could you do me a favor and tell Cedes and Will I had to leave?"
"You bet," Mason replied. Then a moment later, "Hey, Sam?"
Sam stopped halfway out the door. "Yeah?"
Mason quickly closed the space between them. "I need to tell you something. After what you told me yesterday about how you and Cedes faked Samcedes . . ."
Shit. He'd confessed to Mason about Samcedes? That damned whiskey. Sam tried to look unconcerned. "I was pretty drunk, so you should ignore anything I said yesterday."
"But you also said you loved Cedes. Like, really loved her."
"Did I?" Sam didn't know what else to say.
"You did. So, I thought you should know that Will leaked that photo and story. He asked me to update his calendar last night, and, uh, I saw the messages between him and ANS-Scoop. Cedes had nothing to do with it. It was all Will."
Sam's jaw clenched. Of course it had been Will that snake in the grass. He had the most to gain by putting a wedge between him and Cedes. But then Sam thought back to the text fiasco in Vail, the way Cedes continuously held back bits of the truth from him. The puzzle pieces started to fit together in his mind. Maybe Cedes and Will had been working together all this time. Maybe even from the beginning. Maybe Sam really was a fool, and her apology, however genuine it had felt at the time was just another tactic.
As mad as he was at having the wool pulled over his eyes, he also couldn't ignore the pain of his heart breaking. But, Cedes was with Will that much was clear. Between Will's power and her star potential, it would be a golden relationship the media and fans would embrace. Cedes would be fine. While he wanted to storm back into the studio and punch Will in his smug face for all his backhandedness and manipulations, he knew the best thing he could do was to walk away. From Will, from America's Newest Star even from Cedes.
Sam was going to chart a new course.
"I appreciate you telling me, man." Sam clapped a hand on Mason's arm. "But it doesn't matter anymore. I'm done with this town."
Sam was nearly back at his truck when his phone rang.
"Hey, Stace. What's up?"
"Sam, you need to come home. Right now."
Cedes
Nashville, Tennessee
December 22
Cedes rushed down the hallway, nearly blinded by her anger and walked smack into someone.
"Cedes!" Mason said. "Are you okay?"
"Not really," she said shakily. "Not at all, actually."
"Cedes, I have to tell you something. Sam—"
"Is he coming?" Cedes' heart lifted. But then Mason shook his head.
"He had a family emergency. He was here, but he had to go."
Her heart now sank to the bottom of her feet. No. Please no. "Wait. When? When was he here?"
"Just now."
"Did he seem upset when you saw him?"
Mason swallowed hard, then said, "Yes. He was. He was really shaken up. Ran out of there like a bat out of hell."
Tears flooded her eyes. "I need to get out of here. And, Mason? You might as well start spreading the word now. #Samcedes is officially over." She turned off her phone so she wouldn't have to see the oncoming barrage of tweets and texts, then turned on her heel and ran.
Cedes walked along downtown Nashville's main drag, not quite sure where she was going. She ended up at the Bourbon Street Blues and Boogie Bar. She took a few steps closer and peered inside the window. It wasn't open yet but a server was inside wiping down the tables to prepare for the night ahead.
Cedes pressed her face to the glass—and all at once could almost see the ghost of herself in there, almost paralyzed by stage fright years a decade before. She pictured a younger Sam, trying to get his footing in a town that was all too familiar to him, unaware that his life was about to change for the worse that very night. The night I met you was the last time I was ever happy, he had told Cedes. And he had said he used to come to the Bourbon Street Blues and Boogie Bar to reignite his passion for an industry that sometimes got him down. This was what had drawn Cedes here today, too. She needed a reminder, before she walked away for good, that there had been some good moments—it hadn't all been for nothing. She would say a last goodbye, and then call her mom and meet her at her hotel, and she would tell Marilyn it was time for them to go home. Because her mom had been right all this time. The music industry was only ever going to break her.
Cedes tapped on the door of the bar, then opened it.
"Cedes Jones! I am such a big fan!" The server had rushed to the door, realizing who she was. "You have the most beautiful voice I've ever heard. I came to Nashville after I saw you win America's Newest Star last year because I realized I had to at least try, you know?"
The server grasped Cedes' hand. "I'm Unique," she said. "I'm waiting tables for now, but I've met Mickey Guyton and LeeAnn Rimes. Kelly Clarkson was even in here one night and she sang Aretha Franklin's "Ain't No Way." I was one of the few people here who could appreciate the way she sang that sung down. I can't believe I'm talking about music with Cedes freaking Jones!"
"Thanks, Unique. I sang here years ago. And I was just standing here on the sidewalk remembering that night."
Unique glanced over her shoulder into the empty restaurant, then back at Cedes. "Did you want to come inside for a drink? I'm the only one in there right now, doing the setup for tonight."
Cedes followed Unique inside. Dust motes floated in the air, but inside the bar, even dust managed to look magical.
The room was decked out in holiday garland and Christmas lights and there were big red poinsettia plants on either side of the bar. Unique saw her looking at them.
"I brought those in," she said. "This place may be legendary, but it needed some sprucing up. And they remind me of home. I'll be staying here this year because I can't afford to fly back to Massachusetts." She reached up and touched one of the sumptuous red leaves, then passed Cedes a coffee. But Cedes left it on the bar top and continued to look around. She wandered close to the stage and found herself walking up the steps to lay her hands on top of the piano that stood sentry there. She looked down and thought of all the famous hands that had touched these keys, too.
Unique was watching her. "Go ahead and have a seat."
Cedes pulled out the bench and sat, then stared down at the worn-smooth ivory keys. She played a few notes of the nostalgic opening bars of "Ain't No Way." She started to sing—then paused. "Hey, why don't you come on up here? And maybe sing this song with me?"
Unique's wide eyes grew even wider. She approached the stage and sat down beside Cedes.
"I'm no Sam Evans, but I'll give it a shot," Unique said. Cedes felt a pang at the mention of that name. But she was going to let herself feel it, rather than sweep her emotions under a rug.
Cedes started to sing. She put all the emotions she was feeling, all the heartbreak, anger at Will, and regret, into her voice. And it felt awesome.
Meanwhile, Unique's voice was amazing and grew stronger as Cedes played. Cedes kept right on allowing herself to feel everything Carolyn Franklin meant people to feel about unrequited love.
Cedes' hands stilled on the keys and the last notes sounded. She knew it was probably time to get going, but that song had opened up something inside her. Unique got up and smiled, telling her to stay as long as she wanted. Cedes sat still, staring down at the piano keys once more. Then her fingers began to move across the keys again and lyrics filled her mind. It was another love song, she realized. A song about Sam Evans, and what it would be like if everything were different. If their love had somehow made it, against all odds.
Love. She was in love with Sam Evans, she realized. And even if he didn't love her back, it meant something. She loved Sam, it had to be acknowledged, and the best way she knew how to do that was with a song.
Cedes reached into her handbag and pulled out the notebook she always carried with her in case musical inspiration struck.
"Hey, Unique," she called out. "Are you sure it's okay for me to stay a little while longer? Something just came to me. Something I've been waiting for." Her heart was racing. Maybe it was pointless, maybe it was all over, but she knew this song was good. She knew that even if the scenario she was writing about wasn't real, the emotion was.
"No one's due in for another forty-five minutes." Unique grinned and popped her earbuds back in her ears. "I'll make you a deal," she said. "I'll turn up my music, so I can't hear the song you're writing, but I want front-row seats to your next sold-out show, where you perform it."
Cedes said yes but felt guilty knowing there probably wouldn't be any future sold-out Cedes Jones shows. Will had said she was finished. But that didn't mean she couldn't keep writing music. She started to play again and found herself singing the song to Sam.
If nothing else, at least she'd have this song. A Christmas gift to herself. She would keep it with her forever.
Cedes tried to call her mom on her way back to her apartment, but she didn't answer. She left her a voicemail, explaining that she was ready to go home for good.
Cedes entered her apartment's lobby to find the doorman, Marty, standing on a ladder, putting a star atop a large Christmas tree. Cedes paused, taking in the glittery ornaments. As she watched, Marty's ladder wobbled. She rushed over to help him.
"Thanks, Ms. Jones," Marty said, climbing down gingerly. He was in his seventies and had once told her he was retired but working part time as a doorman to raise extra money for Christmas presents for his many grandkids. "It is a fine tree, isn't it?" He turned to her. "Oh! I have mail for you, wait here."
He returned quickly with a large manila envelope, and her breath caught when Cedes saw that her name and address were written on it in a heartbreakingly familiar handwriting: her grandmother's.
"Who delivered this?" she managed.
"Sorry, I don't know," Marty said, returning to his post behind the high-countered desk. "I was taking my break, and when I got back it was sitting right here." He tapped the top of the counter. "Like a Christmas elf had come and dropped it off for you."
Cedes couldn't help herself. She ripped the envelope open.
Inside were several sheets of paper covered in more of her grandma's handwriting.
Dearest Cedes,
I'm so sorry. It's not our family's strong suit to talk about hard things, and the hardest thing you and I could ever have talked about was being apart from each other. When I found out that I was dying, that I was too old to hope for an organ transplant surgery, I swore your mother to secrecy. I knew it would ruin your chances of winning America's Newest Star if you were worried about me, and although I'm sure you'd disagree, I am the older and wiser one in our relationship. Until the day you surpass me in age, which I sincerely hope you will do many years from now, it's going to stay that way.
I did what I thought was right. You've had a year to deal with it. I hope it's getting easier for you.
I've had a long life. And although I'll never be ready to say goodbye to you or your uncle and mother, and my other grandchildren, I can't complain. I got to see you grow. I got to help raise you. I got to see you come close to achieving a huge dream. I believe wholeheartedly that even if I do not manage to be here to witness it, you will win in life and become a huge star. You will, as you always have, make me proud. I will have no way of knowing if you will win America's Newest Star, but the world has heard your voice now. The sky's the limit for you.
I hope you have forgiven your mother and your uncle by now for keeping you in the dark: they were only doing what I asked. And although you think your mother doesn't believe in your dreams, she really wants you to be happy. She was cheering for you just as hard as I was.
Darling, I have something difficult to write to you. While I am very proud of myself for always encouraging you to chase your ambition and live without regret, there is something I regret. I think I may have given you a less than rosy view of romance and love. This might be an understatement. Your mother tried to protect you from any kind of heartache and in doing that often pushed you away. My mistake is that I pushed you toward what I hoped would be a rewarding career because I started to believe I could protect you from the kind of romantic disappointment I experienced in life, and the kind of heartache your mother went through. And although I do see that you are independent and strong, well able to stand on your own, when I saw you with Sam Evans, I realized it might be possible for you to have the best of both worlds. Career success and a loving relationship. Strength and independence and someone to love you for who you are without trying to change you and make you be somebody you are not.
I know your relationship with him is complicated, and has taken place in front of the world, but I also know you well enough to have been able to see the real feelings between the two of you the night I came to visit. I believe Sam Evans is your match; your soulmate in every way but especially in talent, in worth, and in stubbornness. But I thought I'd wait a year to tell you and see what sort of job you did figuring it out on your own. I'm wondering what sort of obstacles you two created for yourselves, and what sort of obstacles the world may have created for you. But I'm hoping you at some point decided to give things with Sam a true shot. And if one year later, you and Sam have not made a good, honest go of things, and if this is something you are regretting,I hope that it's not too late and my words may help lead you in the right direction. All I can do now is remind you that nothing and no one is perfect. That you are special. That Sam saw that in you, and I witnessed him seeing that, and I also saw you seeing the same in him. The true love I sensed as a possibility between you is as rare as your beautiful voice. I'm no expert on love, but I do know it when I see it.
Speaking of true love, I love you with all my heart, and wish more than anything that things could be different than they are right now. But I'm always with you, I promise, watching you continue to chase all your dreams, believing in you always and forever. Merry Christmas, my darling.
Now, go on out there and make me proud.
Yours,
Grandma Sadie
Cedes wiped away the tears that had rolled down her cheeks as she read the letter. "Oh, Grandma Sadie," she whispered. "I miss you so much."
She felt a cold blast of wind as the lobby doors opened—and looked up to see a familiar figure walking toward her. "Mom . . ."
"Oh, honey. I'm so sorry!"
"But, why?"
"I hate feeling so much distance between us, and now I think I've waited too long. I've been following you around for the past few days trying to think of how to fix things between us, and . . . well, it's ridiculous. I'm no better than one of those paparazzi!"
"So these past few days, instead of touring Nashville, you've been following me around?" Cedes thought of the creeping sensation of being watched she'd had on the bridge the day before. Now it made sense. "Why didn't you just try talking to me?"
"I knew you were busy—and I knew you were struggling. I didn't know how to help you. I had the letter from your grandmother and wanted to find the right way, the right moment, to give it to you. I got it in my head that if I could find the perfect moment, maybe it would help. But today I realized there wasn't going to be a perfect moment. I knew I just needed to get over myself and stop holding you at arm's length because you need me. And I need you."
"You're not the one who has been holding me at arm's length. I shut you out," Cedes said softly.
"Well, you learned from the best." Marilyn pulled Cedes in for a hug. "I really am sorry, Cedes. I haven't been fair to you. I've been too afraid to treat you like an adult who can make her own choices, who knows her own heart well enough to know what she needs for her life."
"But you were right. I can't do this anymore. It's time for me to come home. I've been chasing the wrong dream."
"No, Cedes. I don't believe that. You've done nothing but prove to me this year that you were right to chase your dreams. You have an incredible talent, and now the world has seen it."
Cedes shook her head. "Really, it's fine. I've made my decision. I want to come home." She clutched the letter to her chest. "And by the way, no matter how or when this letter got to me, it's still special, Mom. And you did manage to find the perfect moment. I've taken you for granted for far too long. That's one of the things"—she swallowed hard—"that knowing Sam helped me realize. I saw how much he missed his own mom, even after all this time. And losing Grandma, too—it's all made me realize that you need to hold your loved ones tight."
"Not follow them around at a distance?" Marilyn asked.
Cedes laughed. "Right, maybe not that. You didn't need to hide, Mom. You didn't need to do any fancy footwork to make me believe in anything. All I needed was you. And now you're here. Which is perfect, because I need some help packing up my apartment, and I have so many things to talk to you about before going home. I don't want to spend another Christmas in Nashville. We can rent a U-Haul and haul ass out of here, okay?" Sounds like a new Tana Lopez song, she couldn't help but think..
Marilyn frowned. "But what about your performance tonight?"
"Not happening. It's all over."
"Is this about Will Schuester and those photos?"
"It's about Will in some ways, and Sam, too. But mostly, it's about me making my own decision. I don't want this anymore." It hurt to say it, and didn't feel quite right. But Cedes told herself that was because it was heartbreaking to let go of a dream she'd held so long. She'd get over it, though. She'd find something else to do with her life. She could still write music, but she could do that from Ohio for a while. "You've always been right, Mom."
"No, I wasn't right to ever try to hold you back." Marilyn paused, then stepped closer to her daughter. "Cedes, do you remember those text messages your grandma sent you, the night . . ." She swallowed hard, pain in her eyes. "The night she died?"
Cedes nodded, her heart aching. "I still have them."
"Those weren't from her. I typed those to you. I knew exactly what she would have wanted to say to you, but she was already too far gone to say them herself. And as I wrote them, I believed them. I finally understood this dream of yours, and why you are cut out to fight for it. I'm so sorry I didn't tell you. I'll try to do better at being more open and honest with you."
It took Cedes a couple of moments to absorb her mom's words, but she soon accepted that Marilyn had only done what any loving mother would do. That Grandma would likely have approved, too. That Cedes had needed to believe she was getting a final goodbye and that nothing was ever going to change the fact that her grandmother was resting in peace. "It's okay, Mom. Really. Come on, let's just go upstairs. We can talk more and soon you'll understand exactly why I can't stay here."
Even after Cedes had told her mom everything, every painful detail, all the ways in which she had been broken by the music industry, she didn't have the reaction Cedes expected her to have.
"Ain't no way!" she said. "You are not letting that damn Will Schuester steal this dream from you. As your mother, I have to tell you that you are not making the right choice here. First off, Will deserves to be charged for what he did."
"No way. I am not going through that."
"So you'll just let him act however he wants? Do those things to anyone else he pleases?"
This did give Cedes pause, but she also knew that she alone was no match for someone as influential as Will. "I'll find ways to heal," she said. "Possibly with therapy. I promise, I won't just sweep it under the rug. But right now, I just hope I never have to see him again."
"I understand. I'll always support you however I can, Cedes. I just don't want to see you throw away your dreams because of someone like Will. Your grandmother would be livid with me if I did. And she wouldn't want you to forget how much you love music." Marilyn paused. "Play that song for me. The one you said you wrote for Sam at the Bourbon Street Blues and Boogie Bar earlier."
Cedes got out the keyboard she kept at her apartment. She had to admit, despite everything, it felt pretty fantastic to play the song. She didn't realize until she was finished that Marilyn was holding up Cedes' phone as she did. "Hey, were you recording me?"
Marilyn shook her head and handed the phone to Cedes. "I may have gone ahead and made a phone call . . ."
It was Lauren. "Holy moly, little sister! That song was sensational!" she shouted. "And you have got to stop disappearing on me."
"Things have been so tough, Lauren. I needed some time to think."
Lauren's voice was stern. "I heard from Will's team. Apparently you fired him? Why wouldn't you talk to me first?"
"Listen," Cedes said, her voice equally grim. "I don't want a career where I have to be near someone like Will ever again." She took a bolstering breath and explained to Lauren what had happened at the studio. After Cedes was finished speaking, Lauren was silent. Was she going to believe her?
"I'm so sorry," Lauren said, and her voice was different now. In fact, her indomitable manager had never sounded so shaken up. "I've heard things like this about Will before. I even told you about him being handsy but I never thought you would have to be alone with him. I thought it was something that could be managed, but it's more than that, isn't it? I've chosen to turn a blind eye because he paints himself as being so instrumental in building careers. But he's not—he's just a creep. I'm ashamed, Cedes. You did the right thing. But it would sicken me to see you walk away from what I know is going to be an incredible career because of something like this."
"Will said he would destroy me. He will have me blacklisted. No producer will want to work with me."
"You can, of course, make your own choices, and I'll support you. But I'm also your manager and advisor, which means it's still my job to tell you when I think you're wrong. That song is a hit. The world needs to hear it. You are talented, and it would be a crime to allow someone like Will to force you to give up on your dreams."
"But how? Will won't ever let me get ahead now that I've crossed him, and you know it."
"Maybe you're giving him too much power," Lauren said. "Will has created a persona, and everyone believes he is who he says he is, but you've seen differently, haven't you? He doesn't deserve to be in charge of anyone's fate, least of all yours. Don't you agree?"
"It's hard not to when you put it like that," Cedes allowed.
"You have a contract with America's Newest Star to sing tomorrow night with Sam Evans," Lauren continued. "I think the only logical next step is to make sure Sam knows you are going to be there with a perfect song. It's got a simple melody he could pick up after just a run-through or two. I'll call April and explain that all he needs to do is show up for rehearsal tomorrow, and that I know you can get through the live performance together. You two have that off-the-charts chemistry to work with. I doubt that's gone anywhere, even with all the drama. Let me work on it, okay?"
Cedes hesitated, but her mom was nodding and giving a thumbs-up—with a twinkle in her eye Cedes recognized: she looked just like Grandma Sadie. If her grandma had been there, she would have told Cedes she had no choice but to give Sam and her dreams one last chance.
And that, Cedes decided, was exactly what she was going to do. Life was too short for regrets.