Beauty from Surrender (Beauty 2)

I only need six more weeks—forty-two more days—and we can be together forever.

Seven weeks down. Five weeks to go. And it still sucks.

Five shows a week, a different city every night. I'm exhausted and I hate what I'm doing, but it's a commitment I agreed to fulfill. I want to be a rat and walk out on the band, but I won't because that's not who I am. I love these guys and I want to see them succeed. If I walk out now without a replacement, it could ruin them. I won't do that as long as Jack Henry agrees to wait for me. If he says he's done before I can make it to him, then I'm done here. I won't sacrifice us or our love for Southern Ophelia or anything else.

Eight weeks down. Four weeks to go. Still sucking.

I'm worried about Jack Henry and me. He didn't call last night. When I finally reached him this morning, he said there was a problem at Chalice and he had to leave immediately. But he could've called during the drive there.

It's Audrey. She continues to make herself present in his life and that's a problem for me because I'm not there to know what's happening. He allowed her to be the reason we didn't talk, and I'm uneasy about that.

I hate this.

Nine weeks down. Three weeks to go. And it's worse this week.

I missed Jack Henry's call last night. I was so exhausted that I fell asleep waiting for his call and didn't wake when he tried to reach me. His words were cold this morning when we finally talked. He asked me what I was doing last night, as if he suspected I might be up to no good.

This isn't working, and I'm beginning to fear what our future holds if I don't go to him soon.

Ten weeks down. Two weeks to go. And today is the worst yet.

Fourteen days. I can hang in there because I know there's light at the end of the tunnel, but Jack Henry doesn't. I can tell he's getting close to being at the end of his rope. I want to walk away from this now, but I remind myself that I can do that soon enough all while keeping my word.

I can do this. I just have to keep telling myself that over and over.

Eleven weeks down. One week to go. I'm going to make it now and we're going to be fine.

I can't wait to talk to Jack Henry tonight. He doesn't know it, but I'll be back in his arms in seven days. I can't wait to see his face when he realizes I'm home. For good.

I just finished a show but thinking about being with him in a week gets me turned on, so I think it'll be a video chat night instead of a phone call. I send him a text to let him know I'll be contacting him in ten minutes and he better be ready for me.

When we make a connection, I see he's in his office—the place that's become our sexual playroom since it's usually morning for him when we talk. "I hope you have the door locked because I'm feeling particularly naughty."

"Baby, I need to talk to you about something serious."

Shit! I don't like the sound of that. "What's wrong?" Something has happened. I don't know what it is but my mind spins with thoughts of him finding another woman or telling me we're over because he can't do this anymore. "You're scaring me."

"Something happened last night."

"What?" Please don't let him tell me he tripped and fell into bed with someone else. My heart is racing in my throat and I suddenly feel nauseated. I'm terrified of the path this conversation is heading.

"Audrey was in the house again."

Oh, hell to the no. "You are kidding me!"

"I wish I were. I came home from work yesterday evening and had dinner alone like I always do. I had a couple of coldies while I watched TV and went to take a shower before bed."

There's a reason he's starting the story from that point. "I'm not going to like where this is going, am I?"

"You damn sure won't." He pauses briefly before adding, "She got into the shower with me."

My pulse is pounding so hard, I feel it throbbing throughout my entire body but especially in my face. "That bitch! I'm gonna kill her." And then my mind really starts jumping to conclusions, like how hard it would be for him to turn down a naked woman in the shower when he's so hard up after almost three months without sex. "Did you f**k her?"

"Hell, no! I can't believe you just asked me that."

I see from his expression that I've hurt him. "I'm sorry. I was just thinking of how long it's been since we were together, and I know you must be incredibly frustrated."

"I don't care how long it's been. My balls will never be blue enough to want a piece of that."

"What did you say to her?"

"That I'd never be with her again because I loved you and we were going to get married. I know you haven't given me an answer, but my heart tells me you're going to come and I'm marrying you when you do."

He hasn't given up on us. Or me. But I don't have a choice anymore. It's time for me to get my ass down there and be with my man before I let him slip away. Eleven weeks down. One week to go. But I'm done with this shit! Adios!

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Laurelyn's tour comes to an end next week and I hope it marks the beginning of a new start for our future together. She has continued to be mysterious about her plans and hasn't verbally committed to anything one way or another. It concerns me, but I haven't wanted to push the envelope for fear of blowing it with her.

Originally, she was scheduled two weeks off once the tour ended and then she'd be back in the studio to begin working on the next album, but things have changed since then. I gave her a ring and told her I wanted to marry her.

It's been three months, and although it is per my request, she hasn't given me an official answer. Not knowing is beginning to wear on me. I pretend to be patient, but I'm not. I want her here and every day is a battle to not demand she come immediately so we can begin our forever.

Frankly, it's a little depressing that she didn't drop her entire life the moment I put that ring on her finger. In the back of my mind, I'd hoped she would, but then I remember that her strong will and independence are some of the things I love so much about her. I like that she has a life and it doesn't solely revolve around me. But then the selfish part of me despises it at the same time.

It's been a long day and I'm exhausted when I come home for the evening. It's a little late for Mrs. Porcelli to still be here, but I find her in the kitchen. "Perfect timing, Mr. McLachlan. I was just taking dinner out of the oven."

It's a familiar smell but one I don't usually associate with Mrs. Porcelli's cooking. It smells just like my girl's lasagna. "That smells just like Laurelyn's been in here cooking."

"It should. It's her lasagna."

I've missed her cooking a lot, so this is a nice token to remind me of what a good cook she is. "Thank you. I'm sure it'll be delicious."