CHAPTER 55

“That thing you wanted me to keep an eye out for? I’ve got a lead on it,” Jacob says over the phone as I shift out of my car at the studio the next day. “Four bedrooms. Ocean view. Floor-to-ceiling glass. Don’t drool on your shoes.” I shake my head as I grab the front door and head inside. Shane waves at me, and I nod. “Get the realtor to chase it down for me.” “Done. Long as I get first dibs on bedrooms.” I’ve been saving for a place on the beach. My plan is to get my surgery, fix my hand, and get back to my album in warm weather—no more cold winters that make my hand feel useless and broken. But that’s not the only reason for my upbeat mood. I could chalk it up to my surgery coming up soon, but it’s not that. It’s the time I’m spending with Emily, but also creatively, helping Shane. Hell, I even started work with the songs Zeke sent me, though I’m not about to admit it until I go back to LA. Which I have to do soon. But it’s been easy to push that from my mind in light of the chaos of the past few days. I hang up and glance at Shane, who’s unpacking her things at her desk. “Ready to work?” I ask her. “Absolutely.” Her face lights up with enthusiasm. “First, though, you have guests waiting in your office.” I frown, and she hurries to add, “They said they knew you.” I start back there, annoyed someone’s in there without me. I push the door wide and stop in my tracks. Emily’s inside, looking like everything right in the world in a flowy blue dress that makes me want to press her up against the wall and find out if she’s wearing anything under it. “Hey, beautiful. How’s Haley this morning?” “Resting but good. No more pains. And the headaches have subsided.” Last night we got back from the hospital around midnight, after the doctors ran a bunch of tests and diagnosed Haley with preeclampsia. Given she’s not due to deliver for another month, they gave her medication and advised her to stick to bed rest and return if things worsened. I go to kiss Emily but she pulls back. “Slow your roll, Romeo. We’ve got company.” She moves out of the way to reveal Rica slouched in my task chair. I arch a brow at Emily’s former roommate. “You look comfortable.” “Lumbar support is important,” Rica deadpans. But she rises from her chair and I grab her in a one-armed hug she reluctantly allows. Emily says, “She’s stopped over on her way to Miami for a DJ gig.” “Damn. I was just talking to Jacob. He’ll be bummed he missed you.” “What were you talking about?” Emily asks, and my chest tightens as I think about the house. “Ah… nothing. You wanna see Eddie’s new artist?” I lead them to the studio where Shane’s getting set. I nod at her to start. Through the glass, Rica watches intently. She and Emily are both looking for different things than I would—I can tell from the way they watch, the way they listen. It’s the beautiful thing about music—everyone gets something different from it. Rica folds her arms over her chest. “She any good in front of a crowd?” “She’s playing tonight,” I say. “You should come. Both of you.” When Emily and her friend take off, I hold her back for a moment in the hallway to kiss her until she melts under my hands. “Mmm,” she murmurs when I pull back. “What was that for?” “Your dad texted to give me the green light on Shane. Funny how that happened when he was completely opposed to it yesterday.” Her eyes sparkle. “So weird.” It means she and her dad are talking, and Eddie is holding up his end of our bargain. I kiss her again, hard, before letting her go. “Thanks.” Emily tosses me a look over her shoulder as she heads for the door. “Any time.” Since New York, things between us have felt good. We haven’t had a “where is this headed” conversation, which doesn’t feel right given we’re finally spending time together again. But even though I don’t know the specific answer, I know I don’t want to lose her. After I finish working with Shane, I open my email to find a brutal reality check. The note from Zeke’s office is brief but outlines expectations of my contract once I’m back in LA—which I’m supposed to be in another week. There are a dozen attachments. I only open the first two—a schedule for studio time, tens of thousands of dollars’ worth, plus an invitation to a party. The last few weeks, I have been checked out. I needed the time. I need more time. My gut twists. The email is a reminder this is all temporary, that I’m heading back to LA soon—not just for my surgery, but for my life. I’m heading across the parking lot when Emily’s voice from across the fence stops me. “Where are you going?” “Home for a shower and to change before Shane’s show.” I cross to where she’s standing, slide a hand between the fence posts, and wrap my arm around her waist. Her lips curve. “I got some good writing done today.” “Sing for me?” Emily laughs. “You listened to musicians all day long.” “None I wanted to fuck.” Her gaze drops down my body. “You have a change of clothes in the office? You could have dinner with us at the house. Shower after.” Twenty minutes later, we’re arranged around the table in Eddie’s dining room. Sophia’s devouring chicken fingers while the rest of us have grilled salmon. “Forgive the catering,” Haley says. “It’s been a busy few weeks, and it’s getting busier before it gets easier.” “This is great. Thanks, Haley,” I say, and she smiles. “Shane’s set is tonight,” I remind Eddie. “You could come.” He turns it over, glancing at Emily. “It’s fine. My wife could pop any minute.” Haley rolls her eyes. “Emily, I’m not going to pop.” They share a smile that makes me cut a look at Emily. “How’s work going?” Haley asks Emily. “I’m so close to finishing the last song. The reading is scheduled for the first week of September. It’s a chance for a number of people to show off new ideas. Ian’s assistant organizes it and he hosts, but there are lots of other contacts there.” “Ian’s the ex,” Eddie says gruffly. “He’s one of those guys who wears suits for fun,” I add before Emily can speak. Eddie’s gaze narrows. “A douche.” “First-class.” Emily’s jaw drops, and Haley hides a smile behind her napkin. “Thank you for those uninvited opinions on my love life. You don’t know anything about him,” Emily tosses. My muscles tighten in response, my voice lowering. “I know he had you and he let you go.” Silence falls over the table as I hold her stare. I remember what Eddie asked me once: whether I loved Emily the way he loved Haley. I do. I know it, which only makes the reality of our situation harder. “Anyway,” Emily goes on at last, a flush crawling up her cheeks that makes me want to drag her to the nearest room or closet or front-fucking-lawn and devour her. “These funders like to go in on things together. But, I’ve learned that a few of Ian’s friends have invested independently in the last ten years. So I’m going to focus on them.” After dinner, Emily crooks a finger at me and I follow her down the hall. “Where are you going?” Eddie asks. Emily tosses him a look. “Timothy and I are going to hang out, Dad,” she says in a mock-whiny-teenager voice. He grumbles something inaudible before heading back toward the kitchen, and I laugh under my breath. “He wants to make sure we’re not having sex in the shower,” I tell her as we ascend the stairs. At the top, she turns, peering up at me. “You don’t want to have sex in the shower?” Her innocent voice sends every ounce of blood to my dick. “Fucking yes, I do.” She laughs as we get to her room and shut the door behind us. As I strip off her clothes and make her mine, one slow drugging kiss at a time, I wish I could shut the door on LA and my fears just as easily. After dinner, we meet Rica at the venue where Shane’s playing. Thanks to a delicious dinner and the fact that I made Emily come twice in the shower and once more in her bed, tonight’s already feeling like a solid win. Now, I try to push the email from Zeke from my mind as I get ready to share the night with the woman I love and her friend, watching an artist that I found and nurtured. As we crowd around a high top table, Emily pries stories from Rica her life on the road as a DJ trying to make it. The woman’s always been hard to get a read on, but I’m fascinated hearing her experiences. Unlike me, she sounds like she could travel forever. “You okay?” Emily asks, leaning over. I slide a hand over her knee, resting my fingers on the inside of her thigh as I brush my lips across her jaw. “Yeah.” I look up as the band starts, and Shane takes the mic, but she’s not looking at the crowd—she’s looking at the floor. Alarm stirs low in my gut. I can’t put my finger on the warning feeling, but I know something’s off. “What is she doing?” Rica asks. She misses her cue, and the band keeps playing. Eventually, they stop. Emily and I exchange a look, but we both know. Shane’s frozen up. I’m cursing her for it even as I weave through the crowd to the foot of the stage. I shoot security a look as they spring into action, but they stop when they recognize me. Shane's eyes widen as she sees me leap onto the stage. “I’m sorry,” she whispers hoarsely when I stop in front of her. “It’s fine. You got this,” I say. “I know. I thought I did, but… Just don’t go anywhere, okay?” I nod to the confused band, and they restart. I step back into the wings and nod at her. Her gaze is locked on mine as she sings the first line. It’s tentative. The guitarist is eyeing us warily, so I grab his unused mic and join in. Shane’s smile lights up the entire place. I keep going, and she finds her stride. By the time we hit the chorus together, the audience is loving it. It feels good to be up there, better still to help her. My hand might be fucked but the way Shane’s looking at me from the stage and Emily’s looking at me from the audience, it’s hard to believe anything is missing in this moment. After, I head back down the stairs, surprised to see Emily and even Rica holler and applaud as I rejoin them. “Well, that was a disaster.” “It was averted, and you made something even better together,” Emily corrects. I search her gaze, my chest expanding. “You’re good for my soul,” I say simply. She grabs my arms, her hands digging into my biceps. “I know you don’t like thinking of yourself as depending on other people or having them depend on you…” she goes on, “But you matter. To your friends. To me. To Shane. You can make a difference here. With my dad and in people like Shane’s lives.” My chest tightens. Not her life. I tuck her hair behind her ear. “When I was on tour, I realized I couldn’t blame what happened to me for how I felt. But I also promised myself I’d do whatever it took to be as good as I was before. And while I was at it,” I go on, my mouth tugging up at the corner, “I’d get a house on the beach. Somewhere warm. Somewhere I’d wake up every day and make music I love and not owe anyone anything. “It’s the security I’ve always wanted, Emily. The freedom. And you helped me get it.” She stiffens, love and sadness competing on her face. “I’m glad.” “Before I left for tour, I told you I wished you’d never made me dream. That’s not true, and I never should have said it.” “Timothy…it’s okay.” “It’s not. Because I need you to know that I still dream. And when I dream, I dream of us. “You telling me about your work on the couch while we watch the sun set after a long day. Me getting you roses because you love them even when you have no earthly reason to. You swimming naked in our pool until I’m so turned on I have to take you right there.” Her eyes darken, and I wish we weren’t in public so I could show her how fucking good it could be. “Is that all?” she murmurs at last, looking understandably overwhelmed. No. I want kids who glare at us with your eyes and scream at us with my mouth. I want you and me forever. I want you to want it as badly as I do. But I can’t ask because there’s a huge hole in my chest even with her standing right in front of me, one that’ll get bigger the moment she says that’s not what she wants. “Yeah,” I say instead. “That’s all.”