by Salsbury, JB
Sensing that Kathy has no plans to leave any time soon, I grab my sermon notes and turn to leave. The door is now closed behind her. When did she do that? I don’t care or have to time to question her. I grip the knob, and she grabs my wrist.
“Wait.” Her voice sounds different, lighter, softer.
I pull my hand away from the door and she releases her hold on me, but now we’re only a foot apart.
“I can’t be behind a closed door with you, Kathy.” I reach for the handle again, and she steps in my way.
“But you were with Ashleigh.” She tilts her head, her eyes narrowing. “Why?”
She’s asking me point blank because she knows I won’t lie.
I square my shoulders. “Because I was involved in a romantic relationship with her.”
Her expression darkens. “You were having a physical, romantic relationship with one of our volunteers?”
I see what she did there. “Yes. If you’ll excuse me, I have a meeting with Mr. Gunthry.”
I almost graze her hip on my way to the door handle, and she jumps out of the way before the door knocks her to the side. Gunthry is standing by Donna’s desk, his gaze sliding from me to Kathy as we emerge from my office with the previously closed door.
“Thank you for showing up with such short notice,” I say.
He shakes my hand. “You said it was an emergency.”
“Are you going to tell him about your inappropriate relationship with one of our volunteers?” Kathy says, her voice vibrating with anger.
I stop in my tracks, refusing to turn and look at her. “Yes. And also about my assault and battery charge.”
Mr. Gunthry’s cheeks fall, and his lips part.
Kathy steps closer, her drawn expression coming into view.
“I’m stepping down as pastor of Grace Church—”
“I can’t believe you’d do this!” Kathy’s face is going from pink to red. “What kind of a man gives up God for his heathen brother and an immoral woman?”
“Ms. Watson,” Gunthry mumbles, “that’s enough.”
The familiarity in his voice gives me pause. “Kathy?”
She winces at the sound of her name.
“It was you. You’re the one who filed the complaint with the DOEE.” The betrayal twists my insides. “Why?”
“I didn’t want to lose you—the church, I didn’t want the church to lose you.” She rubs her neck. “You’ve been slipping away for the last year since your brother showed back up in your life, and I refused to watch you throw away your ministry for someone like him.”
I run a hand through my hair and sigh. “Wow. You’re fired. Pack your things and get out.”
“But… but…”
“Now, Ms. Watson.”
While she’s standing there stammering, I look at Mr. Gunthry, who actually looks a little embarrassed for Kathy.
“I quit, effective right now,” I say.
He seems to gather himself and says, “I’d say that’s a given.”
“Great. I hope you have something prepared to preach, because in forty-five minutes, the congregation will be expecting a sermon.” I move toward the door but stop and turn before I hit the hallway. “Oh, and Mr. Gunthry, never force a person to choose between the people they love and the church. Eventually, that’ll put you out of a job. In the end, given the choice, the church will always lose.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Two weeks later
Ashleigh
“If we stand here holding each other any longer, TMZ is going to report that you’ve switched teams.” Regardless of my words, I hug Bethany tighter, resting my head on her shoulder as she rests her head on mine.
“I don’t care. Just another minute.”
I stand, wrapped in the arms of my best friend, at my open car door as the southern California sunshine warms us. I take a deep breath, bringing in the semi-fresh Calabasas fall air and feel a little more of the sadness I’ve been carrying around fall away.
“How was your drive?”
“Pretty good. The three-As kept me company—Adele, Alanis, and Amy Winehouse.” The post-breakup trifecta.
“Sounds depressing.” She sighs.
It was. “Are you sure Jesse is okay with me staying?”
She lets me go, but only enough to pull back and see my eyes. “Of course. We have plenty of room and he even made room for your car in the garage. He’s happy I’ll have someone to hang out with while he’s recording. Let’s grab your bags.”
I grab my purse, and we circle to the trunk to grab the two suitcases I brought. Basically all I own that I didn’t leave behind for Stormie’s new roommate. She didn’t have a problem getting some guy to move in. I paid my portion of the rent two weeks ago, so he’s getting to live there rent-free for the month.
We roll my suitcases up the driveway to the huge garage that’s filled with cars and motorcycles. Once we get to the door that leads to a mudroom, I’m hit with the scent of citrus and seafood.
“Chef Rene’s making us lunch. I hope you’re hungry.”
I try to pick my jaw up off the floor as we pass through the enormous kitchen and the hot-as-hell guy wearing all black chef’s clothes, chopping at the island.
“This must be the Ashleigh I’ve heard so much about,” he says with a slight French accent. He puts down his knife, wipes his hands, and comes around to greet me. His broad shoulders, tan arms, golden-blond hair, and crystal-blue eyes are eye-catching, but it’s impossible to settle on which is his prettiest feature. Freakin’ Hollywood. Is everyone here attractive?
I shake his hand. “Nice to meet you.”
His crooked smile is all charm and swagger, something that would usually send my hormones into overdrive and have me throwing out my best lines. Not today. Shocker. Other than my appreciation of his beauty, I feel absolutely nothing. Not one butterfly. Not the slightest tingle. No heat.
“I’ll be cooking for you during your stay. Let me know if you have any special requests.” He winks.
“Thanks.” Bethany grabs my arm and gets me moving again. Once we’re out of earshot, she says, “I knew he’d flirt with you. Have fun with him at your own risk. If things go south and he quits, Jes will be pissed. Rene is the only chef who makes authentic gumbo the way Jesiah likes it. He’d hate to have to fire him.”
“Not interested—whoa!” I slam into Bethany’s back.
She turns slowly, glaring. “What did you say?”
I know what she means, so I make myself clear. “I’m not at all interested in Rene.” Or anyone for that matter. “I feel the same way about him as I do about a toaster. Useful, I guess, if you like toast, but I’m off carbs.”
“You’re off carbs?”
“I am.”
She studies me for a moment before she turns toward the stairway that looks like the same stairway in Titanic, but white and more modern looking. I follow Bethany up and to the left, down a long hallway, beyond a series of rooms, to a set of double doors that I know lead to the in-law suite that’s usually reserved for Bethany’s parents when they visit.
I drop my suitcase at the door and take in the master-sized bedroom suite, complete with kitchenette and full-sized bathroom with Jacuzzi tub and enormous shower. “Are you sure?”
“Shut up, of course I’m sure.” She sets my other suitcase down by the walk-in closet. “And I know you said you only wanted to stay for a couple weeks, but you know you’re welcome to stay as long as you want.”
I flop down on the bed, the thick down comforter swallowing me in warmth and comfort. “Don’t tempt me.”
She hops on the bed next to me. “I’m serious.”
I roll to my side and prop my head on my hand. “I know, but I really just need a couple weeks to figure out my next move.”
She pushes a long strand of hair out of my face. “Take all the time you need. Jesse’s been gone rehearsing, and I’ll just be sitting here with nothing to do. Maybe you could figure out my next move too.” She falls
down next to me with a sigh.
“I’m sorry the teaching thing didn’t pan out.”
Bethany really wanted to be a school teacher, but being the wife of the one and only Jesse Lee was too much of a complication. Not a single school would take her because of the media risk, and she couldn’t tutor from home for the same reason. She’s put her dream on hold for now.
“It’s okay. I’ve been helping Jade with Katie while she works a few shifts at the hospital. That’s been fun. I’ll get back to the classroom eventually.”
“Maybe I should go back to school.”
“That’s not a bad idea.” She rolls to her side. “What kind of classes would you want to take?”
“That’s the part I need to figure out. And I need to get a job in the meantime. Something a little more nine to five with a purpose that goes beyond just getting people drunk.”
“You’ll figure it out.”
Minutes of silence stretch between us.
She clears her throat. “Have you talked to him?”
I don’t need clarification. She’s talking about the only him who means anything to me. Meant anything to me. “No.”
“Has he reached out again?”
“Not after those first few days.” Through a wave of sadness, I sent every one of his calls to voicemail, wishing I could pick up the phone but knowing I’d survived the worst heartbreak of my life. Why put myself through more torture?
“You miss him?”
I shrug. Fuck yes, every single second of every day.
“As long as you walked away with no regrets, you did the right thing.”
“Yep.” Except I’ll always wonder what would’ve happened if I’d told him everything, if I’d only trusted him enough. Would it have been possible for him to see beyond my scars and mistakes?
“Yep,” Bethany parrots.
She doesn’t believe me.
I don’t believe me either.
Ben
Sitting on the plush couch of a multi-million-dollar recording studio, I watch my brother strum the guitar and sing the lyrics of a new song we’ve been working on. My lyrics. How Jes can infuse so much emotion into another man’s story is a testament to his talent. The rough, haunting sound of his voice as he brings my words to life sends a thrill through me that I haven’t felt in—well, since I last kissed Ashleigh.
The music is abruptly cut off as Jesiah looks at his producer. “Good shit, right?”
Edgar exhales hard and looks at me. “You’re telling me you wrote this last night?”
“Couldn’t sleep.”
My brother smirks. “Benji’s a lyrical gangster. And this is just one of a couple dozen he’s written.”
Edgar eyes the leather-bound notebook in my hands. I clench the thing tighter. “How many are you interested in recording?”
My brother sets down his guitar. “I want five of them.” He grins at me. “For now.”
“Let’s get it all recorded, then we’ll reconfigure the album.” Edgar eyes me. “I’ll get the contracts drawn up for the rights to the songs.”
My brother smiles at me, mostly because he knows the sales of this album are going to be a financial game changer for me.
“How long until you think they’ll be ready to record?” Edgar asks.
A giggle erupts from the overstuffed chair on the far side of the room. We all look over to see Elliot occupied with her iPad and her hot pink noise-canceling earphones.
We turn back to Edgar, and Jesiah answers, “Ryder’s on his way here now. We worked with Ethan late into last night.” He looks at me as if asking my opinion. I nod. “We’ll be ready to crank out a few songs by tomorrow. Day after, latest.”
Edgar’s face lights up. “That’s great.” He slaps his thighs and stands. “I’ll make sure I block out the week, and we’ll get started day after tomorrow.” He leaves the room with a bit more bounce in his step.
I watch him go while scratching at a week’s worth of beard growth.
“I told you he’d love it.” Jes’s grin stretches across his face. “How the fuck do you do it?”
“I have a lot of free time.”
He glances at Elliot as if to make sure she’s not listening to us, then leans forward, elbows on his knees, and fixes me with a look. “You miss it? The church thing?”
“No.” I answer immediately, because I don’t.
Leaving the church was the right move. I had to confess what I had done, and I knew my relationship with my brother would continue to be an issue. I chose an institution of faith over my brother once and regretted it ever since. I would not make that mistake again.
Do I feel remorse? Not about quitting my job, no.
Do I regret letting Ashleigh walk out of my office? Every. Single. Day.
I tried calling her. She won’t take my calls.
I showed up at her apartment. No one answered the door.
Acceptance has been the hardest part of our breakup. The fact that I cared more for her than she cared for me is a bitter pill to swallow. Which is why I decided to take the job working on Jesse’s album. I had to get out of town, clear my head, figure out how to live again in a world without color.
Elliot and I moved into Jes’s house ten days ago. In three weeks, we’ll go back and I’ll have more than enough money to live on until I figure out what I’m going to do with the rest of my life. One thing is for sure, I’m selling my house. It’s time to leave the ghosts where they belong—in the past.
Feeling my brother’s probing stare, I pick up my guitar and work on the chorus of a song that came to me this morning. I hum, then mumble the lyrics.
“I’d face the sorrow, face the pain.
I’d walk through fire once again.
She died. I couldn’t let go.
You left. I wanted you more.
Words fall away. Nothing to rehash.
I burn, I breathe, still hunger for… for…”
“Ash.”
My gaze snaps to my brother, who’s looking at me with more softness in his eyes than I’ve ever seen.
He nods toward my guitar and my songbook lying open in front of me. “I think that’s the word you’re looking for there.”
Feeling as if a hundred spotlights are shining down on my open chest cavity, I clear my throat and start the song over.
After the first few bars, Jesiah says loud enough for me to hear, but like it’s a secret. “What’s it called?”
“‘Face the Music.’”
The corner of his mouth ticks up, but he doesn’t look at me. “’Bout time.”
Jesiah pulls out his phone, giving me the break from conversation. I continue to work on the song, my throat tight and my heart emptier than ever.
Eventually the door swings open and Ryder comes in, heading over to ruffle Elliot’s hair before joining us. He looks tired, but happier than I’ve ever seen him.
“You’re smiling awfully big for a dude who got two hours’ sleep between bottle-feeding and diaper changes,” Jes says.
Ryder yawns through his grin. “Jade worked the night shift. Katie’s already living like a rock star—ya know, staying up all night eating and crapping her pants.”
Jesiah frowns. “I resent that.”
Ryder smirks. “But you don’t deny it.”
My brother shrugs.
Ryder looks at me. “Being a dad is the best thing I’ve ever done. You remember when Elliot was born, how watching her sleep would make you smile?”
No. When Elliot was born, I mostly cried and stayed in bed, cursing God for taking my wife and leaving me alone to raise a motherless newborn, but I don’t tell him that.
“Yeah.” I go back to strumming the guitar.
“That’s sick. What song is that for?” Ryder says.
“Benji just wrote it, it’s fucking insane. It’s called ‘Face the Music.’”
“Play that again?” Ryder’s eyes are intent on my hands, his head bobbing a little as I play. “I have an idea.”
He hops up and heads to the drum kit. He plays and I listen, picking up what he’s started, and play the chorus again. Jes’s up, standing between where Ryder is playing and me in the chair with my acoustic. His eyes are closed, he’s humming.
And that is how we write Jesse Lee’s first single for his new album.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Ben
“Rene made dinner,” Jesiah says when we pull up to his house just after eight o’clock that night.
Bethany has been cool enough to work with Elliot every other day, keeping her up on her schooling before they spend the rest of the day doing fun stuff. On the days when Bethany watches Elliot, we work late into the night, not getting back until well after midnight. On the days I bring Elliot with me, we try to get back early enough for dinner and maybe a swim in the heated pool.
“I’m starving!” Elliot chirps from the backseat of the SUV.
“Good, kid.” Jes pulls the vehicle through the circle driveway up to the front door while looking at Elliot through his rearview. “I heard Rene made you his special mac and cheese.”
We all hop out of the car. I grab Elliot’s dinosaur backpack and drag my exhausted feet to the door behind a chatting Jesiah and Elliot.
The house lights are dim and Jes hollers, “Honey, I’m home!”
I expect Bethany to join us in the kitchen like she does every night, but I don’t see her yet. Elliot stands close to Jes when he opens up the oven and, with hot pads, pulls out tinfoil-covered plates.
“I’m going to take Elliot’s things up.”
Jesiah looks at me with a strange expression, half-smile, half-apology. “Take your time. I’ll feed the kid.”
I head to the stairs, thinking maybe I’m just tired and imagining my brother acting weird. At the top of the stairs, Elliot’s bedroom is the first door on the right. It’s decorated for a princess, complete with a canopy bed and crystal chandelier. I drop her backpack on her bed and head through the jack-and-jill bathroom to the guest room I’m staying in. I fall onto the bed, exhausted and wondering when this all-consuming draining feeling will go away. The feeling that I’ve lost something integral to my existence.