From the Embers

by Aly Martinez

  I extended my hand.

  He met me with a firm shake. “Nice to meet you. You killed it out there tonight.”

  “That was all your wife.” Releasing his hand, I pulled Bree against my side again. “This my girlfriend, Bree. Bree, Levee and Sam.”

  Levee aimed her smile down at Bree. “I heard a lot about you today. I think your guy might like you a little bit.”

  Bree tilted her head back and smiled up at me. “Well, the feeling is very mutual. I kinda sorta maybe like him too.”

  “Oh, please. She loves me. Really, it’s more of an obsession. Though I think she might be holding out for Shawn Hill over there?” I winked and Bree pinched my side.

  “Well, I have a feeling the rest of the world is holding out for Eason Maxwell now.” Levee laughed. “Hey, I’m glad I ran into you. We were actually on our way out.”

  “What? Why? Isn’t this your party?”

  “Yeahhhh,” she drawled, glancing around the room. “It’s good for the label, but this isn’t really my scene anymore.” She slid under her husband’s arm and nuzzled into his chest. “I’m more of a bathrobe, glass-of-wine, room-service-while-going-through-the-swag-bag type of girl these days.”

  Bree put her hand to her ear. “I’m sorry. Did you say swag bag?”

  Levee snapped her finger and pointed at Bree. “I see you’re my type of girl too. Don’t worry. It will be in your room when you get back. But listen, while I have you here, I have no doubt the offers are going to start rolling in for you tomorrow. But Henry and I would absolutely adore to have you join the Downside Up team.”

  My whole body turned to stone and the oxygen that had been freely circulating in the room suddenly disappeared. “Like…as a songwriter?”

  She grinned. “Sure, if you have words to spare. But I was thinking more along the lines of a solo artist.”

  Bree grabbed my hand and gave it a hard squeeze, which I was only vaguely aware of through the surge of adrenaline roaring in my veins.

  “I…um—”

  She waved me off. “Don’t answer now. There are agents and managers and lawyers who need to talk first. But I was really impressed with you tonight, Eason. No commitments or strings attached. I’ve got a few weeks off. Maybe, instead of going home tomorrow, you could take a detour through San Francisco for a few weeks. I’d love to pick your brain on a couple songs I’ve been working on. We could even collaborate and see about getting a single out for you while the world is still aflutter with all things Eason Maxwell.”

  “Oh wow. That sounds amazing, but I don’t know if I can do San Francisco. I have kids. Bree has to get back to work and—”

  “He’ll be there,” Bree interjected, the tip of her high heel landing painfully on my toe. “Just let us know where and he’ll be there.”

  Levee grinned. “You’ve got a smart lady there. Listen to her. It was nice meeting both of you. Good luck treasure hunting in the swag bag tonight.”

  “Thanks,” Bree replied. “For everything. This has been an amazing experience for both of us.”

  “You’re very welcome, but I’d be lying if I acted like I did do you a favor. You’re gonna be big-time, Eason. I’m just trying to get in on the ground floor. We’ll talk soon.” She looked at her husband. “You ready?”

  Sam gave us both a chin jerk then threw his arm around his wife’s shoulders, and together, they sauntered to the door.

  I stood like a statue, trying to process everything that had just happened. A potential record deal with Downside Up. An invitation to collaborate with Levee. Hell, even the prospect of her “picking my brain” could score me a cowrite credit on her next album. None of these were bad problems to have. Though I had no idea how I could get away for a few weeks to make it happen. A long weekend, sure. Bree would step in, and we could always count on Evelyn to pick up the slack. But weeks? As in plural. Logistics aside, I didn’t know how I felt about leaving Luna for that long.

  The back of Bree’s hand slapping my chest snapped me out of my thoughts.

  “Have you lost your damn mind? When Levee Williams asks you to come work with her, you don’t say”—she lowered her voice into a deep tone that sounded nothing like me, or at least I hoped it sounded nothing like me because I sounded seriously dumb—“‘Oh gee, I don’t know. Bree has to work. Who would ever babysit the kids?’” She slapped me again. “Are you insane?”

  I laughed and lifted my hands in surrender. “It’s the truth.”

  “No, it is not. Eason, when we made this agreement about you keeping the kids, it was so you could have the time at night to pursue music. The opportunity that was just laid out in front of you was literally the goal. All bets are off now.”

  “I still have responsibilities. I have a daughter who—”

  She stabbed a finger toward the covered tattoo on her hip. “We have a daughter, Eason. And I am fully capable of handling the responsibilities while you are gone. But you have to go. Taking care of our family means taking care of yourself. After all these years, this is your time. Don’t you dare ignore it in the name of responsibility. We’re a team, remember? You do your part in San Francisco and I’ll do my part at home, okay?”

  My chest got tight as I stared at her in the middle of an A-list afterparty, feeling every bit of the imposter I was but still knowing I was the luckiest man in the room.

  Circling my arms around her hips, I pulled her flush against my chest. “Okay, but what am I going to do without you for two weeks?”

  She smiled and ran her hands up my arms to my neck. “Now that I’m not sure about. But just think of how much fun we can have when you get home. All that—”

  A man’s tenor interrupted our conversation. “I’m sorry. Are you Bree?”

  My head jerked up and she spun in my arms. And sure as shit, Shawn Hill was standing in front of us, his bare chest only covered by a leather jacket. Long, flowing, blond hair and the bluest eyes I had ever seen, and not looking at all like the geeky college kid I had at his age, but like a grown-ass male model who had never heard the word no from a woman in his life.

  “Uhhhh,” my girlfriend who was not at all drooling mumbled.

  He smiled down at her, so hypnotizing that for a second I feared she was planning to throw her bra at him.

  “Hi, I’m Shawn. Levee sent me a text saying I should come talk to you.”

  I wanted to be jealous. After Jessica and Rob, my ability to trust should have been nada. But it was Bree and she was hilariously star struck. Yet I still knew that Shawn could have dropped to his knees right then and there and it wouldn’t have mattered one bit.

  Bree was mine.

  The way it always should have been.

  We spent the rest of the night making the rounds. Meeting people. Making friends. Taking pictures and sending them to Jillian. We left around four in the morning and thankfully Bree bypassed the gift bag in lieu of making love until the sun came up.

  She flew home the next morning, exhausted, sated, and alone, while I made my way to San Francisco, my dreams at my fingertips and my entire heart in Atlanta.

  BREE

  “Ewwww!” Luna laughed, pushing the slime into a small plastic cup to make a loud fllllarp noise.

  “Mom, mom, mom. Listen to mine!” Asher exclaimed.

  They all giggled hysterically. Seriously, it didn’t matter how old kids were, apparently fart sounds were always funny.

  Never one to be left behind, Madison frantically started shoving hers into the container, yelling, “My turn!”

  “Okay, hang on, Mads. Everybody get together so we can send a picture to Eason. Come on, Luna. Daddy needs to see your beautiful smile.” Leaning on the counter with my elbows to steady my arms, I aimed the camera on my phone at them covered in school glue and food coloring. Their shirts were ruined and I had a feeling I was going to be wiping down the counters for days, but they were happy.

  And because they were happy, I was happy too.

  In the almost two weeks since Eason
had been gone, we’d been busy. We’d made slime, painted suncatchers, and used potatoes as stamps. We’d spent almost every afternoon at the park and our nights teaching Oreo to fetch a little felt mouse. I bought a trampoline for the backyard and we’d gone through more sidewalk chalk than I’d known was possible.

  And I loved every single minute of it.

  The day after I’d gotten home from LA, I’d loaded up Madison and Luna and gone to the office while Asher was at school. I spent a few hours tying up loose ends while Jillian entertained the girls. Once that was done, I emailed the entire company to let them know I was taking a vacation for a few weeks—effective immediately. I must have gotten fifty responses in the first two minutes: emails, phone calls, the heads of departments stopping by my office with a laundry list of questions. I answered exactly none of them. Instead, I closed my computer, gathered my girls, and went to get Ash from school, and the four of us went out for smoothies without a single regret.

  I could have called a nanny agency and gotten a temporary sitter. I could have worked from home, burning the candle at both ends. But none of that felt right in my heart.

  I’d given Eason a talk about how taking care of the family meant taking care of yourself. And there I was, the hypocrite, in a job I’d come to despise when all I truly wanted was to be at home with my kids. Depending on who you asked, people had very strong opinions on the age-old working-mom-versus-stay-at-home-mom debate. But in my experience, there was no right answer. Or wrong answer for that matter. It all came down to what worked best for the individual family.

  And over the last few months, watching my kids grow up in the one-to-two-hour window I got with them every night just wasn’t working for me anymore.

  “Cheese!” the kids shouted, but I didn’t get to take a picture before the phone lit up with an incoming FaceTime.

  A massive smile spread across my cheeks. I hit the answer button and then held my breath as his handsome face filled the screen. “Hey!” I said, turning the phone so the kids could see him too.

  “Daddy!”

  “Eason!”

  “Eeeee-sin!”

  The house hadn’t been the same without him. Too boring. Too quiet. Too healthy. Who would have thought there would be a day when I missed him smuggling cookies in?

  He’d called as much as he could, but with the time difference on the West Coast, it got challenging. But not a day had passed where he hadn’t made time to at least check in.

  “Daddy, where are you?” Luna asked, standing up on her stool as if it would bring her closer to him.

  “I’m still in San Francisco.” He spun in a circle, showing off the soundboard in an empty studio. “Everyone just broke for lunch. What are you guys doing?” He leaned in close, the top of his blond hair falling into his tired eyes. “Is that slime?”

  Asher launched himself forward and took the phone from my hand. “Listen, listen.” Precariously balancing the phone, he started shoving his finger into the container, and in the next beat, Luna and Madison joined him for a symphony of fart sounds.

  “Wow!” Eason exclaimed. “I bet your mom is just loving that.”

  “Totally,” Asher replied.

  And if I was being honest, he wasn’t wrong.

  After that, the kids took turns carrying the phone around the house, talking Eason’s ear off, and showing him everything from the same pictures they’d shown him yesterday to a lone sock Luna had found Oreo carrying around the house. About a half hour later, Madison brought me back my phone and then disappeared into the playroom with Luna.

  I settled into the corner of the couch, lifted the screen up into my line of sight, and asked, “You got any time left for me?”

  He leaned back on a couch and waggled his eyebrows. “For you, I’ve got forever.”

  “Smooth. You should work that into a song.”

  He quirked an eyebrow. “Who says I haven’t?”

  I sighed. “So, how’s it going out there? Tell me, Mr. Famous. Have you bought a mansion and decided to abandon us for celebrity life yet?”

  Levee had not been wrong about the world taking notice of Eason Maxwell. For days after the Grammys, his name had been plastered all over social media. Women were going nuts over him. Stills of him smirking at Levee on stage had gotten the gossip mill running. Paparazzi images of them out to dinner and leaving Downside Up studios together only fueled the media frenzy. It had gotten so bad that, by the end of his first week in San Francisco, Levee’s husband, Sam, called me to see how I was holding up. He was a really nice guy who assured me that nothing was amiss and this was just how things went in the industry. Especially with someone as new and captivating as Eason.

  Truthfully, Eason’s newfound fame had been a little hard to swallow. Photos of us on the red carpet were circulating, and while I’d printed and framed a few, I’d strategically cut out all the headlines of our “scandalous affair.”

  While digging into his past, trash media outlets had found out about the fire. Oh, what a juicy day it must have been for them as they’d flashed a photo of me, Rob, Eason, and Jessica at a charity fundraiser Prism held once a year beside an arial image of Eason and Jessica’s demolished house. They harped on the fact that Rob had been Eason’s best friend and even managed to find a cell phone video of me holding Luna and forcing a smile outside of Jessica’s funeral as “proof” of our betrayal.

  They didn’t know about Rob and Jessica’s affair.

  Nor did they know that Eason and I had barely been friends before the fire.

  They didn’t understand that our love had been slow like the seasons, built on a foundation of honesty and trust.

  Nobody understood, yet within days, Eason and I were labeled backstabbing and taboo.

  It was a whole big thing and Eason had lost his mind, but I’d put my foot down when he’d tried to come home early. People would forever talk and make assumptions, but at the end of the day, the only things that mattered were that Eason and I knew who we were, how we had fallen in love, and where the future was leading us.

  What hurt him the most was that one day the kids were going to read that bullshit, but if we did our jobs right, by the time that day rolled around, they would never have to question the truth.

  “No, I’m ready to abandon the celebrity life to come home to you,” Eason rumbled. “God, I wish you were here, Bree. And the kids. It’s only been a few weeks, but I swear Luna looks like she’s going to be asking to borrow the car soon.”

  “I think it’s Asher you need to worry about. He’s got this girl in his class and he keeps telling me she’s so pretty it makes his stomach hurt.”

  He barked a laugh. “Oh man, that’s serious. Though I’m slightly injured he hasn’t said anything to me about her.”

  “I’m sure he’s just waiting for you to get home. Speaking of… Any clue when that will be?”

  He let out a low growl. “All right, what do you want first? Good news or bad news?”

  My stomach sank. The only good news I wanted was for him to come walking through that door, and I assumed that, whatever the bad news was, it wasn’t going to be conducive to me getting that. “Let’s get the bad news out of the way.”

  “Since I signed with Downside Up, Levee hooked me up with her producer. He’s incredible. Completely gets my vision. We worked on one hook today that I’d been stuck on and he had it knocked out in less than two minutes.”

  I twisted my lips. “And how is that a bad thing?”

  “He wants me back in the studio to rework parts of what Levee and I had done. And he’s right. It had too much of her fingerprints and not enough of mine. It’s gonna be another two weeks at least. Maybe closer to a month if I can get the studio time. I’ve been writing like crazy and have more than enough material for a full-length album. I just need a little help getting the tracks down.”

  Yes, a month sounded like an eternity with the way I missed him. But he was also missing me and the kids something fierce, so he didn’t need me pilin
g guilt on top of it. “Eason, it’s not bad news. You have a record deal with a major label who is spending time and money to put you with one of the best producers. We knew the distance was going to be hard, but these are not bad problems to have.”

  He shifted the phone from one hand to another, raking his free hand through the top of his hair. “I know. I know. I just feel bad leaving you there with the kids. You’ll have to go back to work eventually. Maybe we should talk about hiring a nanny. I can pay for someone full time. I know me being here is putting you in a bind and I’m sorry you’re having to pick up all the slack.”

  “Would you stop already? I’m not in a bind. I’m doing what needs to be done for our family. The same way you did when I was working eighty hours a week during the IRS audit. Stop feeling guilty for being successful. If you want the truth, I’ve kinda been thinking about not going back to work.”

  His eyebrows drew together, and he sat forward. “Wait, wait, wait. What? Is this because of me?”

  I dropped my head back. “No, it’s because of me. I’ve been doing some thinking. I hate missing the kids grow up. We only have so many years with them, and pretty soon they’ll all be in school and too cool to hang out with their old mom. I could maybe go back to work then. My heart just isn’t in it anymore. I worked my ass off to build that company. Maybe it’s time I turned over the reins to someone else and followed my own dreams.”

  His face got soft, and he leaned into the camera. “Bree, I’m not actually there right now. But I’m here for you. If this is what you want, don’t ever go back to Prism. I can take over the bills. I kinda failed Jessica on that front, but it’s different this time. I’m not going to get dropped. I can take care of us now. All of us. I swear I can.”

  Oh, my sweet Eason. After everything, he still felt like he didn’t do enough.

  “First of all, you did not fail Jessica. Jessica failed Jessica. Despite what she led us all to believe, she was not some helpless dandelion blowing in the wind. She could have gotten a job, but she chose to spend her free time with Rob instead of taking care of her family. You don’t get to carry her failures as your own.”