Jackson wasn’t my first choice as backup. Grace had an early studio call, so she hadn't been able to come with me. Call me chicken, but for some reason, I didn’t want to show up at the place all alone. Just the thought of it sent butterflies flapping their wings like crazy through my stomach.
So, I had called up Jackson, taken him out to brunch as a bribe and then talked him into riding with me so that I would be able to actually go inside of the studio when I got there instead of sitting in the parking lot for an hour trying to talk myself into it. As Grace had reminded me, I needed to pick up my bonus check. Or, rather, my pay-off. I felt a bitter sting of resentment biting at my insides as I thought about it.
“What’s wrong, Nay?”
I sighed, rubbing a hand over my face. “I don’t know. You remember when we used to sneak into the music room at the orphanage, and I would just stare at the piano, wanting to play but not brave enough to risk making a noise?”
“I do. I also remember the way you used to touch the keys, as if they were made of glass,” he added, a faraway look in his eyes. “I knew then that you were going to be something special.
None of the other kids could ever hold a candle to what you were able to do on that piano.”
Tears threatened to fill my eyes as I continued to stare at the building. “I had such high hopes of making it in this business. I only wanted people to hear my music, you know? Is that so wrong?” I glanced over at my brother, remembering our childhood and the dreams I held that had started back then.
Pangs of regret and sorrow began working their way through my body like an invasive parasite. I had come so close to getting a foot in the door of the industry I had dreamt of for so long, but now it looked as if that would never happen. My hopes and dreams lay in tatters and ruins.
He reached over and touched my arm. “Of course not, Nalia. You're meant to be a star, and you will make it in this business. I promise you that. You just have to believe in yourself. You're so talented, and you work so hard at it; it's just a matter of time before the right person notices you. Don't give up now.”
I looked at him, giving him a soft smile. “You should have been a motivational speaker. Or maybe a therapist.”
“Well, if I was,” he said, his eyes narrowing, “I would have told you to stay far away from that d-bag rocker. Oh wait...I did tell you that. Hmm. You, however, chose not to listen. This would be where I give you the dreaded I told you so speech. But, he already broke your heart, so I’ll spare you. This time.”
My heart ached at the mention of Owen, and all the feelings of what he meant to me came rushing back. Sitting there, staring at the studio I dreaded entering, I found myself wishing things would have worked out between us just so I could prove everyone who had doubted us wrong. But, in the end, it seemed they had all been right.
Grace’s words, however, continued to haunt me. What if I had been wrong? What if I had jumped to conclusions and never gave him a chance to explain? What if Owen hadn’t been the ass I assumed he was, and, instead, was actually the exception to the rule?
“Hey. Earth to Nalia,” Jackson broke me from my trance. “How about you go get that check so we can get the hell out of here,” he suggested, his voice jolting me from my inner thoughts and self-questioning.
I nodded, pulled in a deep breath to steady myself, and opened the car door. Seconds later, I walked into the building and took the elevator up to the floor where the studios were. When the elevator doors opened, the place was eerily quiet. The lights were off, but there was still a good deal of light entering through the windows, so it wasn’t dark, but it did feel a bit like a ghost town.
The secretary wasn’t at the front desk, so I stood there for a moment, looking around and trying to decide what to do. That’s when a familiar sound floated through the air—music. It faintly sounded like a piano playing.
I took one more look around before following the sound, realizing with a start that it was my song playing. This was my song! What the hell was going on?
Turning the corner, I peered down the hall and noticed a light on in a room ahead. Naturally, I walked toward it, hoping that someone could explain how my music was playing in the studio. If someone had recorded me unknowingly, I would fight tooth and nail to get it back. Nobody was going to be ripping off my songs. Nobody. That was my music, my talent, and I’d be damned if I was going to let anyone steal it.
I stepped in front of the doorway and gasped at the sight of rose petals scattered on the floor. The equipment in the studio had been pushed back to allow for dozens and dozens of candles to be lit along the wall, the light giving the room a soft, romantic glow. Wave after wave of surprise and wonder crashed over me.
I suddenly felt as though I should turn and leave. It seemed I had just stumbled into a proposal in the making. But, my curiosity moved me forward into the next room. I stopped and turned around in a slow circle.
Some lucky fool was going to enjoy this, even cry over the romantic gesture. Why couldn’t I be lucky like that? I hoped that they understood how precious this was and how amazing they should feel that someone cared for them enough to go all out in such a way. Still though, the thought that someone had stolen my music to do this kept the anger flickering like a fire inside me.
“Hello, Nalia.”
I spun around at the sound of the familiar voice. He stood at the door, leaning against the doorjamb with his arms crossed over his chest, dressed casually in a polo shirt and khaki shorts, with his typical converse standing out in bright red. There was no denying the man was gorgeous. And at the moment, he looked tanned, rested, and totally unlike the hot mess that I had felt like lately.
“O-Owen,” I managed to stammer. “What on earth are you doing here? Why aren’t you in Florida?”
He pushed off the jamb and walked into the room. “Well, I was, but there was something I had to take care of on this side of the country.”
I swallowed hard, anticipation building. “What was that?”
He smirked and dropped his arms. “You know, you’re insanely talented, Nalia.”
“I, um, thank you,” I said honestly, glad that someone like him thought I had talent. “That means a lot.”
“It’s not flattery—it's the truth. There’s only one problem, though.”
“A problem? What might that be?”