She was definitely a fan of guitar lessons. She’d called me the night she talked to Johnny at the studio, sounding genuinely thrilled. Her lilting enthusiastic tone reminded me of the girl I’d met almost twenty years ago. I saw traces of her in our daughter, but the Fiona I knew now was harder to gauge. I understood. Life hadn’t gone according to plan for either of us. And that was my fault…but that was another story.
“Parker lit up the moment we walked in the door. The darling receptionist knows him, the guys in that other band…Jealousy, I think—greeted him so sweetly before we found Johnny. He just seemed so happy there. And when he got home, he played a song for me. I didn’t have to beg him or anything. I’m not sure this will go anywhere, but rock stars are popular and if nothing else, it’ll give him much-needed street cred.”
Street cred? Popular? I frowned at her word choices, but she’d moved on to a new topic that thankfully didn’t involve alimony, so I let it go. I hung up feeling more hopeful than I had in years.
And a couple of weeks later, that feeling hadn’t faded. In fact, it had gotten better.
Escrow closed on the LA property Harry, Darren, and I had purchased with the McMillan Group and according to Darren, Myron was interested in investing in the building phase as well.
“Really? Do we want them involved?” I asked, studying Johnny’s profile from my corner of the sectional. He was perched on the opposite side, bent over his guitar, strumming a tune I didn’t recognize.
“Harry said the same thing. Let’s talk to Myron and see how we feel. I’ll invite him to Palm Springs this weekend. What day are you getting here?”
“Friday, but I’m not there on business. Let’s meet with him in LA,” I suggested. My normally loquacious friend went suddenly quiet. “Darren?”
“I’m here. Are you bringing him?”
I squinted in confusion. “Who?”
“The guitarist. I hear him playing in the background, and I’ve seen that look in your eye when you talk about him. Bring him. Myron would flip out to meet him in person and that, my friend, could be good for business. Think about it. Brunch would be nice. Mwah!”
I disconnected the call with a sigh and tossed my cell onto the coffee table.
“What’s up?” Johnny asked, slapping his hand on his strings. “Before you say ‘nothing,’ I heard the conversation. You’ve got your volume on full blast. Myron wants to meet me, and it’ll be good for business. I’m in. I want to meet your friends anyway. They sound weird.”
I huffed a laugh. “Myron is the water guy, baby. He’s the one who insisted that you be on the Pride bottle. He’s a superfan.”
“That’s cool. I don’t mind.” He propped his guitar against the adjacent armchair.
“Well, I wasn’t planning on seeing any of them this weekend. I didn’t want to work. Myron is work. Harry and Darren are my friends, but they’re also work. I want you to myself.” I slouched on the sofa and motioned him over.
“Wait. Show me how you look when you talk about me. I overheard—”
“You shouldn’t eavesdrop,” I scolded without heat.
Johnny grinned. “That’s how you find out all the good stuff.”
“Or the bad stuff.”
“Yeah, yeah. Show me your special googly eyes.”
I widened my eyes in terror. “Something like this.”
“Liar. I bet you it’s like this.” He bit his bottom lip and sighed dreamily, fluttering his lashes.
“Maybe you’re right. C’mere.”
He hesitated. “For what it’s worth…I wouldn’t embarrass you.”
I sat up quickly. “Hey, where’s that coming from? I’m not embarrassed by you.”
His lips curled in a lopsided smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes. “Okay. I just want you to know you can trust me not to grab your dick under the table, drink too much, or talk with my mouth full. I know you like to keep business and personal shit separate, but if I can help you with business by showing up, I’m willing to do it.”
“Why?”
“ ’Cause I like you. It might not be as easy for you, but…I don’t really care who knows anymore.” He climbed atop me, nestling his face in my neck.
I ran my fingers through his hair and kissed his temple, unsure how to respond.
But here’s what I did know…my heart thawed, melted, and expanded every day, leaving room for him to crawl inside and take whatever he needed. He walked into my home, sharing songs and telling stories about his day. I listened, I commented, I shared my food, my wine, my bed. Yet, I held back more than I gave.
I felt the weight of my burdens slip from my shoulders when he was around, but I didn’t set them down. Honestly, I didn’t know how. I wasn’t equipped for this game of give-and-take. I was afraid to give too much and more afraid to take what I didn’t deserve. And I was pretty damn sure I didn’t deserve Johnny.