Maybe Now (Maybe 2)

When everything is changing

Baby you’re written in stone

Feels like we made it

Got something of our own

Maybe it’s predictable

But I can’t complain

With you and me

All I need is more of the same

More of the same

When I finish writing the chorus again, he reads it all. Then he hands me the lyrics and leans back against my headboard. He motions for me to sit between his legs, so I crawl over and turn my back toward him as he pulls me against him and wraps his guitar around us. He doesn’t even have to ask me to sing the song. He starts playing, leaning his head against mine, and I start singing the song for him so that he can perfect it.

The first time he played for me, we were sitting like this. And just like that first day, I am completely in awe of him. His concentration is inspiring, and the way he creates such a pleasing sound that he can’t even hear makes it hard for me to focus on the lyrics. I want to turn around and watch him play. But I also like that we’re wrapped together on my bed and I’m caged against him by his guitar and every now and then, he kisses the side of my head.

I could do this every night with him and still want more of the same.

We sing and play the song about three times, and he pauses to make notes between each run-through. After the fourth and final time, he tosses the pen on the floor and then pushes his guitar to the other side of the bed. Then he turns me around so I’m straddling his lap. We’re both smiling.

It’s one thing for a person to find their passion, but it’s another thing entirely to be able to share that passion with the person you’re passionate about.

It’s fun and intense and I think we’re both realizing for the first time that we get to do this together all the time. Write songs, kiss, make love, be inspired to write more songs.

Ridge kisses me. “This is my new favorite song.”

“Mine, too.”

He slides both hands to my cheeks and bites his lip for a second. Then he clears his throat. “With you and me…all I need…is more of the same.”

Oh, my God. He’s singing. Ridge Lawson is serenading me. And it’s terrible because he’s so out of tune, but a tear falls from my eye because it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever witnessed or heard or felt.

He wipes my tear away with his thumb and smiles. “That bad, huh?”

I laugh and shake my head, and then I kiss him harder than I’ve ever kissed him because there is no way I can verbally express my love for him right now. Instead, I love him silently. He doesn’t even break the kiss when he reaches behind him and turns off the lamp. He pulls the covers over us and then tucks my head under his chin as he wraps himself around me.

Neither of us says I love you before we fall asleep.

Sometimes two people share a silent moment that feels so deep and so powerful, a simple phrase such as I love you risks losing all prior meaning if spoken aloud.

I’ve only taken three bites of my burger, but I push the plate away from me and lean back. “I can’t finish this,” I mutter, letting my head fall back against the booth. “I’m sorry.”

Jake laughs. “You jumped out of an airplane for the first time ever and then drove a car in circles for an hour straight. I’m surprised you’re able to eat anything at all.”

He says this with an empty plate sitting in front of him while scarfing down a milkshake. I guess when you’re used to jumping out of planes and driving fast cars, the adrenaline doesn’t jack with your equilibrium to the point that you feel like the world is spinning inside your stomach.

“It was fun, though,” I say with a smile. “It’s not every day I cross two things off my bucket list.”

He scoots both of our plates to the edge of the table and leans forward. “What else is on your bucket list?”

“Vegas. The Northern Lights. Paris. The usual.” I fail to tell him that he’s who I hope will be number eight on my list. We’ve had so much fun tonight, I want to do it again. But I also don’t, simply because we had so much fun tonight. I’ve spent the entirety of my adulthood in a relationship. I don’t want that again. Even if he is too good to be true. “Why are you single?” I ask him.

He rolls his eyes like the question embarrasses him. He pulls his glass of water in front of him, sipping from it in order to avoid answering it for a few seconds longer. When he lets the straw fall away from his lips, he shrugs. “I’m usually not.”

I laugh. That’s expected, I suppose. A sky-diving, Tesla-driving, good-looking cardiologist doesn’t sit home every Friday night. “Are you a serial dater?”

He shakes his head. “The opposite, actually. I just got out of a relationship. A really long relationship.”

I didn’t expect that answer. “How long did you date her?”

“Twelve years.”

I sputter a cough. “Twelve years? How old are you?”

“Twenty-nine. Started dating her in high school.”

“Can I ask what ended it? Or do you want to change the subject?”

Jake shakes his head. “I don’t mind talking about it. I moved out about six months ago. We were engaged, actually. I proposed four years ago. We never got around to planning the wedding because we were waiting until we finished our residencies.”

“She’s a doctor, too?”

“Oncologist.”

Jeez. I suddenly feel so…young. I just barely finished my thesis, and here he is with an ex-fiancée who went through medical school with him and saves lives. I pull my drink to my lips and take a sip, attempting to wash down all my insecurities.

“Was it a mutual breakup?” I ask him.

He looks down at his hands briefly. A flash of guilt takes over his expression before he responds. “Not really. I realized about twelve years too late that I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life with her. I know that sounds bad after being with her for so long. But for some reason, choosing to spend the rest of my life with her was a lot easier than breaking up with her.”

Why am I feeling everything he’s saying? I find myself wanting to raise my arm and say, “Amen,” like I’m in church. “I can absolutely relate to what a hard decision that must have been.”

Jake leans forward, folding his arms on the table. He tilts his head in thought for a moment, then says, “I had a moment before I ended it. I remember asking myself what I would regret more. Ending something that was good so I didn’t end up with regrets? Or spending the rest of my life regretting that I didn’t have the courage to end something simply because I was afraid of regret? Either choice would have left me with some form of regret, so I chose to end it. And it was hard. But I’d rather regret ending something good than be what prevents her from finding something great.”

I stare at him a moment, but I have to break my stare because I’m starting to have that feeling again. That I want him to be more than a one-night stand.

“How long were you and your boyfriend together?” he asks.

“Almost six years.”

“Were you the one who ended it?”

I think about his question for a moment. From the outside looking in, I’d say I was. But being in it…I’m not so sure. “I don’t know,” I admit. “He fell in love with another girl. And it wasn’t like it was some torrid, scandalous affair. He’s a good person and he would have chosen me in the end. But he would have chosen me for the wrong reasons.”

Jake looks surprised. “He cheated on you?”

I hate that word. I find myself shaking my head, even though he did. Ridge cheated on me. It makes him sound malicious, which he is not. “Cheating is such an ugly term to describe what happened.” I think about it for a moment as I stir my straw around in my glass. Then I look up at Jake and say, “He…connected with someone else on a deeper level, I think. To call

him a cheater feels like an insult he doesn’t deserve. He crossed a line with someone he connected with. We’ll just leave it at that.”

Jake watches me for a moment, reading my expression. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. I just find it fascinating that you don’t sound like you hate him.”

I smile. “He’s one of my best friends. And he tried to do the right thing. But sometimes the wrong thing is the right thing.”

Jake fights a smile, like he’s impressed with this conversation, but he doesn’t want to show it. I like that. I like how interesting he is. And I like that he seems to find me interesting.

He’s still staring, like he wants to hear more, so I continue. “Ridge writes lyrics for a band. About two years ago, the band released a new song, and I’ll never forget the first time I heard it. Ridge always sent me the songs ahead of their release, but for some reason, he never sent me this particular song. After I downloaded it and listened to it, I immediately knew why he never sent it. It’s because he wrote it about us.”

“A love song?”

I shake my head. “No. It was kind of the opposite. Sort of a falling-out-of-love song, about a couple who needed to move on from each other but didn’t know how. It wasn’t until I heard that song that I realized he felt the same way I did. But neither of us were in a place to admit that to each other at the time.”

“Did you ever ask him about it?”

“No. I didn’t have to. I knew it was about me as soon as I heard the first line.”

“What was the line?”

“I keep on wondering why I can’t say bye to you.”

“Wow,” Jake says, leaning back. “That’s definitely telling.”

I nod. “I don’t know why we waited so long after that to end it. I guess it’s like you said. Things between us were good, but I knew he’d found something great in another girl. And he deserved better than just good.”

Jake’s expression is stoic as he watches me silently for a few seconds. But then he smiles with a shake of his head. “How old are you?”