Meet Me in Barcelona Read Free Page B

camera in front of his face and eyed Grace through the lens.
    â€œFilm time,” he said. “It’s perfect here.” It was true; strips of early afternoon sun streaked in through the gaps in the buildings and bathed everything around them in a comforting glow. There was a fresh smell in the air that Grace wished they could capture on film. Grace felt infused with hope, as if anything and everything was possible. Jake fiddled with his camera like a surgeon preparing his tools. She didn’t ask how much he had spent on it, but she knew it had been in the thousands. So far he’d looked stricken any time Grace hinted that she wanted to give it a try. It took him a while to situate her just so, right in front of the center fountain, then a few steps to the right, then one step forward. Perfect. Wait—could she angle toward him just a smidge more?
    â€œRecording,” he said. He tried to say it with a Spanish accent, and it made her laugh. He grinned in return.
    Grace stretched her arms open, looked directly at the camera, and did her best imitation of a genuine smile. “Hi, Mom. Hi, Dad. It’s your daughter, Grace. I’m here with my boyfriend, Jake. As you can see, we arrived safely in Barcelona, Spain, and this town square is just a short stroll from our lovely apartment. Note all of the gorgeous stone buildings on the outer edge, and the arched entrances leading into cobblestone alleys. We don’t see architecture like this in Nashville, do we?”
    Jake lowered the camera and gave her a pained look.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œYou’re stiff.”
    â€œYou would be too if you had to constantly introduce yourself to your own mother.”
    â€œAside from that,” Jake said. He walked up to her, took her heavy handbag off her shoulder, and slung it around his own. He fluffed her hair. Then stepped back into filming position. Grace yawned. “No yawning.”
    â€œI’m jet-lagged.”
    â€œNo complaining.” She laughed. “That’s better. Now relax. Just be yourself.”
    â€œI’m camera shy.”
    â€œYou sing in front of hundreds of people.”
    Not anymore, Grace thought. Never again. But this wasn’t the time or place to break it to Jake that her singing career was over. She was never going to sing in public again. Ever. “That’s different.” It was true. Instead of giving her stage fright, playing in front of large crowds had always comforted Grace. Country fans were always so supportive. She could disappear into the music, her voice, and blend into the collective audience. But it wasn’t long before I started to drift off. . . .
    â€œStop thinking about that review.”
    Jake was reading her mind again. Spooky. “You started it.”
    â€œAre you carrying it on you?”
    Jake was holding on to her purse. So, technically, at this moment she did not have it on her. Sometimes, in life, you had to rely on technicalities just to get by. “No.” Just thinking about that awful review, just thinking about Marsh Everett made her want to smash and burn things. Childish. All artists had to deal with bad reviews. Shallow doesn’t quite cut it.... A dog bowl has more depth.... How could he say such awful things about her? Even if he thought there was room for improvement, didn’t he know she put her entire being into what she did? Didn’t he know she was a flesh and blood person with feelings? Why didn’t anyone warn her how much someone else’s words could literally cut a person to the core? Grace had always thought she was strong, that she had confidence. But she wasn’t. She was just a twig that could be snapped in two. Give her the sticks and stones any day. Words hurt. They burned.
    Marsh Everett just didn’t know her. Surely if he knew her, if he could see into her soul, he would like her. He would like her music. There had to be a way to get him to like her. This was