Bristol’s cheeks were still burning after ending her toxic relationship with a company that cared only about how much money she could bring to the table. The meeting had been moved to Friday at nine. It was cordial and friendly at first, but once Lizzy dropped the news, the gloves came off, and they called in their team of lawyers. It was after noon when they were done. Lizzy had her team of entertainment lawyers on standby in case Top Shelf threw them a curveball, but after pointing out that Bristol had fulfilled her contractual obligations, they had no choice but to accept her resignation.

Bristol should have felt elated, and a part of her was, but she was also melancholic. Half of her life was Top Shelf. Every major milestone had happened when she was with them. First girlfriend, her parents’ divorce, learning to drive, first platinum record, first world tour, first Grammy, first ulcer, first nervous breakdown.

Bristol stopped. “Oh, no. You’re not fired. You’re too good at managing everything else of mine. Just don’t ever come at me with a music contract.”

Lizzy held her hands up. “Never again. I’ll maybe tell you about an event, but I won’t book anything unless you give me the okay.”

They had never talked about Bristol leaving the afterparty early or what had happened after. It wasn’t Lizzy’s business, and now that they weren’t on tour, Bristol had the upper hand again.

“Want to do lunch next week?” Lizzy asked.

Bristol slipped on her sunglasses as they walked out of the building and shook her head. “You’re lucky I left the house for this one.”

Lizzy rolled her eyes. “It was necessary. Also, can we talk about how Sterling almost popped a vein when you told her you were done? Tyson had to loosen his tie. Oh, shit. That was priceless.”

Bristol smiled for the first time in hours. “It was pretty incredible.” Her driver waved her over the moment they stepped out of the building. “Listen, if I go dark for a month, don’t worry. I’ll check work emails regularly, but don’t text me unless it’s an emergency.”

“Reach out if you need me, and sleep a lot. Get caught up. Maybe get back into a comfortable routine,” Lizzy said.

Bristol didn’t want to tell Lizzy she was writing new music because she would subtly push and force a deadline. Bristol didn’t want that. Writing music was always cathartic, and she had a lot of new emotions to work through. “Oh, getting back in a routine will be nice. Pilates, maybe I’ll start cooking. I mean, I have a massive kitchen and don’t know how to use most of the appliances.” She stood outside her limo and hugged Lizzy. “Go home. I’ll call you next week if I’m in the mood to be around people.”