Break-ups suck. They suck even more when your ex is famous and dating an equally renowned actress. At the grocery store where I worked, I was forced to stare at Billy's face as he stared back at me from the magazine rack, usually as he was clutching Ella's hand. On the slow days, when there weren't many customers to keep me busy, I contemplated quitting, but I had been working there for so long that leaving would undoubtedly mean a pay cut. So instead, I watched as the headlines unfolded like a soap opera.

Rock star and America's Sweetheart heat up the summer... Beauty and the Beast are growing closer... Meet the Parents: Ella Price Brings Billy Collins home to Connecticut... Billy Collins Spotted Ring Shopping... Is she Yoko? Is Billy leaving the Band?... Ella Price: Bump Watch... Cozy in Deluth: The Happy Couple Spotted in Billy Collins' Hometown.

"Is there something you want to tell me?" I answered one August evening as I bobbed and weaved among the throngs on the sidewalk leading to my apartment.

Billy had been calling more often, nearly three times a week. At first, the conversations were labored and pretty exhausting. But as the calls continued, we devolved back into ourselves. He'd relay tales of Tim's latest shenanigans, and I'd, in turn, share tales of my mundane life with a peppering of concerns about how tired Billy sounded.

"So many things," his voice bubbled with excitement. "I got a new guitar. I've been eyeing it for a while, and Tim finally persuaded me to get it. It's a late-50s Gretsch. The sounds are unnatural; guitars don't sound like this thing. The knobs are so clunky... I love it." He let out a gleeful laugh like a child on Christmas morning.

"Billy, I wasn't talking about a guitar."

I didn't bother to stifle my laugh at his enthusiasm and felt a breeze of air course over the receiver from his end. I knew his head had bowed, and dimples were on full display wherever he was.

"So, what were you talking about?" He prodded, honestly unaware of the stir he was causing on the magazine racks.

"I stare at you all day; you're all over the tabloid covers."

"Oh geez, you must be sick of me." There was a genuine apology in his tone.

"I'd love to say that I'm not, but I kinda am." I felt foolish for my disdain for the updates. "So, I hear you're engaged and expecting. And is the band busting up?"

There was a loaded pause that made my heart sink: some, if not all, of the rumors were true.

"Billy, I..." my voice creaked to a halt.

"Lil, I'm not engaged, nor is Ella pregnant." The excitement had drained from his voice, and exhaustion had resumed its constant presence. "I'd tell you if any of that was going on."

A warmth of relief soared through me. Deep inside a happiness I hadn't felt in a month bloomed.

"But," a single word crossing his lips caused immediate death to my delicate happiness. "About the band," he continued.

"Oh, Billy, I'm sorry." Secretly, I was excited it was the band rumor that was true.

"Don't be; it's time. We're just headed in different directions." There was an unease in his voice.

"When?"

"When this tour wraps. We'll announce it a few months later when the timing feels right."

"Are you okay, Billy?" My voice was low with concern as my mind focused on his uneven tone; it set me on edge and pushed all the relationship fears away.

"I miss you, Lil. I wish I could see you."

All the bravado that had begun saturating his voice from constant touring was gone. This was my Billy, the Billy that refused to share a bed with me when he visited, the Billy that clung desperately to normalcy, the quiet Billy.

The sudden change in his demeanor sent panic surging through me. "Where are you?"

"London," he hopelessly murmured.

"I'll come there," I announced.

"What? No, you won't." I sighing laugh blew through the phone.

"Fine. When you come back to the states, I'll see you," I promised. "And you need to call me more," I poked.

"The phone works two ways, Lil. I don't see many missed calls."

"Well, I don't know if you know this, rockstar, but your schedule is a bit more packed than mine."

"I'm home again in a week or so. I'll try to get over to see you." The exhaustion didn't dissuade my nerves.

"I could come to you," I added.

"No, Lil, I know you need to work. El is coming to Duluth for a few days, and then I'll fly out to visit. I'll let you know the details when I get it all worked out."

"Billy, I'm worried about you."

A small chuckle escaped his lips. "I'm good, Lil, just a bit tired. Hey, I gotta run, but I'll call you soon."

"Billy, I love you," I quickly shot before he could hang up.

"I love you too, Lil." But it wasn't his typical sentiment. He didn't pause; he didn't let the feeling sink into his words. 

The silence from the disconnect hung in my ear until I let my hand and phone drop to my side. My thoughts clung to Billy long after the call: his dark hair falling in front of his downcast eyes, the purse of his lips that would flash his dimples, the round slump of his shoulders to reduce his stature. My Billy conflicted with the images splashed across the tabloids: his hand mid-wave as he stood before a mic, his entire body askew mid-thrash as he clung to his guitar, even as he strode confidently clutching his starlet's hand down a sidewalk.

The phone was ringing before I even realized I'd swiped through my contacts.

"Hey Lil," Tim's voice still sounded so much like Billy that it made my heartache.

"Hey, Timmy." 

Without missing a beat, he added in a sing-song voice, "what's wrong?"

"I just talked to Billy," I managed a pause to let the fact sink in before I let my mind spill into the phone. "He seems off, distracted. I'm worried about him. He told me about the band. Do you think he's worried about breaking off? He seems tired. Is he taking care of himself? When was the last time he ate a vegetable? Is he hydrating? How's his back? Is he happy? Is this girlfriend good for him? Should I fly to London?"

"Wow, slow down there, killer," Tim cut off my deluge.

"I'm worried," my voice rose with the frustration of being too far away.

"I gathered that. Lil, he's okay," Tim offered.

"Okay, he's okay? Tim, you telling me he is okay is roughly the same as he died two days ago."

"Grandma's on the roof," he managed with a sigh.

His reference to a terrible joke my dad used to tell didn't dissuade my fears. The short version was that a family leaves their grandmother in the care of a friend while they go on vacation. While away, she passes, but the friend doesn't have the heart to tell them and ruin their vacation, so he comes up with an unbelievable story of how Grandma has all this new spunk and is up and about the house. Eventually, he mentioned she is re-shingling the roof. The next day, the last of their vacation, he lets them know that she tragically fell from the roof. Billy, Tim, and I had spent an entire evening dissecting the joke pondering if it was, in fact, a joke or just a terrible story with a sad ending.

"Look, Lil," Tim began again, breaking me from my thoughts, "he's fine. He's tired and sick of the band. To be honest, he should be. They're not taking his success well. If he didn't want to leave, they'd probably kick him out."

"He sounds tired," I added.

"Well, he's been working non-stop all year; what do you expect?"

"I expect him to take care of himself." My frustration was rearing. "I'm sorry, Timmy; I don't mean to take it out on you."

"I know you care, Lil. It's why we love you."

"Should I come out? He said you were in London."

"You'd fly out? You're that worried?" Tim's surprise wounded me.

"Tim, I love him; he's one of my best friends. I'd do anything for him."

"I know. It's just, with everything last winter and now with Ella." Hearing Tim say her name stung.

"Just because we aren't a couple doesn't mean I love him any less."

"Well, we're supposed to be flying back in a few days, so I don't think it's worth you spending fifteen hours in transit."

"Yeah, he said he was heading home soon. He seemed excited to have Ella visit." I tried to sound enthused. "I think he might try to come here for a few days."

"Oh, see, look at you two, being friends."

"Tim, we are friends," I reminded him.

"Yeah, yeah; every time I've seen you two together, I've always thought what great friends you are."

"Why did I call you again?" I shot back.

"Oh, I think you were calling to see how I was. Oh, wait, no, you weren't. You didn't even bother to ask Tiny Tim how he was doing; I'm just slowly wasting away from kidney disease. Hopefully, three spirits will come soon and save the day."

"Really? A Christmas Carol reference in the middle of August?"

"Hey, I gotta work with what I'm given," a laugh erupted from him rattling my eardrum.

"I'm sorry, Timmy. How are you?"

"I'm great; thank you for asking. Things with Tess are going great. I think she's the one, Lil." There was a boiling excitement that Tim was struggling to contain.

"How much do you think she's the one?" I pressed, feeling a smile spread across my face.

"I got a ring," he proudly announced. Suddenly the rumor of Billy ring shopping clicked.

"Oh my gosh, Tim! How could you not tell me?"

"Because, what if she says no? I want to keep the circle tight."

"She won't say no."

"How could you say that, Lil? I knew this couple that was perfect for each other, and then suddenly they were straight-up friend-zone. No real reason either, just a stop-asking-about-it-Timmy kind of thing."

"Tim, that's enough."

"What? You don't know whom I was talking about; I have lots of friends." His defensive tone trickled through the phone.

"Do you? Do you have lots of friends?" I teased.

"Always a pleasure, Lil."

"I'll talk to you soon. I promise. Please keep an eye on Billy; I'm worried about him."

"He just needs a little time off. You'll see when he visits. He's good, Lil. I wouldn't let anything happen to him."

"I know. I love you."

"Hey, when you said Billy was one of your best friends..."

"Yes, Timmy. You're the other one."

"I knew it!"

"You know you're one of my best friends." I shook my head as though he could see it through the phone. "I love you, Timmy."

"Love you too, Lil. Take care."