Starting From the Top (Starting from 5)

“True.”

“A good therapist is worth her weight in gold.” She gave a sardonic half laugh as she tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. “I don’t hate you, but I resent you sometimes.”

“Well, ditto,” I admitted.

The corner of her mouth twitched in a reluctant smile. “That’s the thing about being divorced with kids, Sean. You’ll always be in my life. I like you as a person, and I think you’re a great dad but…the part of me that used to love you isn’t sure how to move forward sometimes. You’re not my friend. You’re not my enemy. It’s been almost six years since we officially ended things. Maybe closer to ten since we knew our marriage was in trouble. Do the same rules apply? Do we allow each other to be happy now?”

“I hope we can.”

“Yes. Me too. I know you’re committed to Parker and Penny, and I trust you implicitly. A lot of people in our position can’t say the same, so I’m grateful. But damn, I still get angry. Sometimes I wish we had the life we said we were going to build together. It’s not our reality, though. Our kids are all we have left, but they are my whole fucking world,” she choked. “They have to be safe. They have to be protected. They—”

“They are, Fi,” I intercepted. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m not abandoning them. I would give my life to protect them without a second thought. They’re my world too. But Johnny is—he’s very important to me. I can’t give him up. I need to try to make this work. If he’ll have me.”

She nodded slowly. “I can’t blame you for wanting a chance to start over with someone new. I want that for myself.”

“I want that for you too,” I assured her. “In fact, I think the kids need to see us live real lives. Honest lives. They need to see us happy. Even if it’s with other people.”

“Yes, you’re right.” She crossed her arms and bit her lower lip. “You know, I used to worry that you’d forget about them or resent them when—”

“Christ, Fi, I would never—”

“I know. I know. I know you love them and that you’ll always give them your best. And I know you’ll protect them and keep them safe. You’re a fucking amazing dad. They’re lucky,” she said with a smile.

I leaned forward and set my hand over hers. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

She wiped a tear from the corner of her eye and chuckled softly. “Thanks. I knew I liked you. And for the record, the kids love Johnny. They talk about him constantly. He’s been so good to them. I hope he makes you happy.”

I pursed my lips and nodded. “Yeah, well…I need to work a few things out, but that’s another story.”

“Then go do it. You and me…we’re good.”

I squeezed her fingers, aware of the empty space where my wedding band had once fit. That void no longer felt heavy, like heartache. We’d stood at an altar many years ago, holding hands as we exchanged vows, rings, and a forever that neither of us could deliver. The rings were gone, the vows absolved by a court of law, yet we were still here. No longer together, but still trying.

14

Johnny

Music was my solace. It always had been. I could crank up the blues or jam to a heavy metal beat and forget my troubles for a while. Listening always worked, but creating my own music required more brain cells. Ideally, that would keep me focused.

I needed to stay focused.

I adjusted my headphones, closed my eyes, and leaned into the wall of sound cascading from my Stratocaster. It pulled me in and held me under, mending broken pieces faster than any other drug. I wished I were better with words and poetry. I could feel the symphony and sense color, but this was the only way I knew how to translate, so I had to make it count. I blended notes like a painter with a fresh palette and reminded myself I did what had to be done.

There was no other choice.

I was in love with someone who wouldn’t let himself fall for me. It went against his rules. I couldn’t change his mind. He had to do that. He had to—

The wall of sound crashed. I pushed my headphones around my neck and glared at Tegan. “What the fuck?”

“I was gonna ask you the same thing,” he retorted. “What are you doing here?”

“I work here. Plug me back in.”

T shook his head. “Not till you tell me what’s up.”

I raised a brow and stared him down. “I’m fine.”

“Bullshit.” He picked up a set of drumsticks from one of the stools arranged in a circle on the middle of one of the Persian rugs in the studio and tapped them together. “Want a ride to Justin’s with Dec and me?”