And that’s what I’m most bitter about, I realize—that I’m not even special. I don’t even get to tell him directly, even when he’s home. I just send my reports to the marketing email, just like all the other people he has working for him. There are probably twenty other people just the same as me, vying for his approval via form emails. And maybe I paw at my eyes while I’m talking, but I’m not sad, I’m upset, and it’s just that sometimes my brain can’t tell the difference.

And I tell him what even Peak doesn’t know, that my dad has a good friend on the board of the conservatory that could complicate everything. If he ever found out, my dad would have all the ammunition he needed, and Vera would have every motivation in the world to go along with it. Frankie rubs his temples when I explain that part, and I know, I know, but I couldn’t keep it to myself any longer.

When the words finally stop, when there’s nothing else to confess, I feel ten pounds lighter and completely exhausted, like I could sleep for a year and still never wake up.

“Hey,” Frankie says when he’s sure that I’m finished. “Listen, I’ve found myself in some tough jams over the last couple years, and all I know is that if your gut is telling you something is wrong, it probably is.”

“You think I should tell Vera, then?” I ask, leaning back in my chair and tucking my hands behind my head. “That’s what you would do?”

Frankie blows out a breath so hard his cheeks puff out. “I don’t know, kid. I really don’t. I can see JuJu’s point. You’re not doing it anymore, it won’t change anything, so why does Vera really need to know right now? Especially with the risk of you getting shipped off to the left coast. But I see your point too. You’re holding in a big secret, and you’re looking for a little redemption. And if Vera found out from someone else, it would be way worse.”

“Yeah,” I say, swallowing hard. “So what do I do?”

“I think you follow your gut.”

“Okay. Next question: How can I tell if it’s my gut talking or my myriad of anxiety disorders?”

Frankie chuckles. “Is there that much of a difference?”

I laugh too, and it’s a bitter sort of laugh. Because I don’t know. I sincerely do not know.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Jubilee

“COME ON.” HE grins, holding his phone out. “Let me record it!”

“Why are you so obsessed with me?” I laugh, covering up my face, but I don’t really mind.