Her eyes narrowed, but it wasn’t anger he saw there. It was pain—raw and unwanted, scarring and untamed. “Whatever you want—you’re the lord of the castle,” she snapped.
His mouth fell open. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.” She removed the damp towel, threw it in the sink, and began opening and closing drawers—with force. She stopped when she found another towel, which she also used on her hair. He’d never seen a woman do that before. Dish towels were for dishes.
He brought himself back to the subject at hand. “You can’t just run off like that. Cody asked where you went, and I didn’t have an answer for him.”
Her face softened. “Is he okay?”
“Yeah, but I think we need to know where each other is at all times,” He paused a moment, realizing how controlling that sounded. He wasn’t out to run her life. He didn’t need that kind of responsibility, nor did he want to suffocate her. “You know, in case of emergency.”
She bumped the drawer closed with her hip. “Really? Should be easy to find me. Half the time, I’m right where you left me.”
“When did I—” He stopped as he remembered coming into the house without saying a word. He’d been a horrible host. His mom would be so disappointed, and truth be told, he was disappointed in himself. But he wasn’t quite ready to admit defeat. She was the one who’d left. “And you can’t force Cody to ride his bike again.”
“Then he’ll grow up to be a quitter.” She threw open the fridge and pulled out a yogurt.
His mouth fell open for the second time. She wasn’t holding anything back. Which was … nice … but also scary. “That’s not true.”
“It is. If he never has to do anything hard, then he’ll never learn to do hard things. Falling off a bike is a normal childhood experience. I lost half the skin off the inside of my foot once, but it didn’t stop me from riding to the gas station the next day with my sister.” She tore off the lid and rummaged for a spoon.
She had a sister? He shoved the curiosity aside. “My son will be his own man. Saying no now teaches him to stand up for himself.”
“He’ll be a man, all right—one who carries around your issues.”
Xavier gaped at her. Where had his sweet wife gone, the one who read bedtime stories with voices and sound effects and made chicken and rice for dinner? “Were you a psychology major too?”
“No. Your issues are so obvious, I don’t have to have a degree to pick up on them.” She set the yogurt down, and her hands went to her hips. “In case you hadn’t noticed, I need a shower. If you’ll take a moment out of your busy schedule to tell me which room is mine, I’ll be out of your hair for the rest of the night.”
He opened his mouth to ask about dinner—saw the dragon breathing behind her eyes—and shut it again. “Third door on the right.”
“Thanks.” She took hold of the suitcase and wheeled it away.
He stormed outside to get his and Cody’s things. The handles were all too hot from sitting in the car to grab on to. He left Cody’s just inside his door and then went to his room.
This marriage wasn’t supposed to be this hard. It was supposed to be mutually beneficial—she got to be a mom and had free room and board; he got to write music. He sat on the edge of the bed, dropping his head into his hands.
He’d be a fool if he thought any marriage was without conflict. Taking two people with different families and backgrounds and expectations and mashing them into a set of matching rings was never a recipe for bliss. It just wasn’t. His first marriage had been difficult at times. Nora was demanding in her own way. She had to have the best of everything, insisted on quality even if it came with a hefty price tag, and was OCD about germs.
If he was honest, he didn’t know where they would be in their relationship at this point if she hadn’t died. They’d never got the chance to argue over changing diapers and how to raise their son. He’d done it all on his own.
What he needed was a dose of good advice. There was only one person he trusted when it came to relationship advice—the master of marriage. He pulled out his phone and dialed. “Hey, Dad.”
“Hey there. How are things going?”
Xavier flopped back on the bed, letting his free arm fly to the side. “Not great.”
Dad waited.
Xavier hesitated. “I have a question for you.”
“Okay, shoot.” Dad liked to point his fingers into guns when he said that. He did it all the time when he sold cars.
“Did you and Mom ever fight?”
Dad chuckled. “We sure did. Had some humdingers too.”
Xavier draped his arm over his face. “I don’t remember the two of you ever getting into it—or even yelling.”
“Well …” It was Dad’s turn to hesitate. “We had about ten years there where it was rough. I don’t think your mom could stand the sight of me, and I don’t blame her.”
“How old was I?”
“Gosh, I don’t know, five or six when it all took a left turn.”
“Why’d you stay together?”
“Because we both loved you kids. And we aren’t bad people; we just didn’t prioritize our marriage, and it suffered.”
“Huh.” Had he prioritized his marriage today? He thought back to leaving Emily in the driveway, giving her the cold shoulder over Cody’s knee, and yelling at her when she got home. Wow. No wonder she couldn’t stand to be in the same room with him.
“Why do you ask?” His dad’s voice had a knowing tone—one that said this isn’t random, spill it.
He’d have to tell his dad about Emily eventually. Since he was feeling pretty humble over his poor actions, he decided to come clean and launched into the story. He even talked about the comeback he was going for in the music business.
Dad gave several disgruntled sighs. By his fifth one, Xavier had reached his limit. “I hate that sigh.”
“You’ve heard it enough. You’re my only child who jumps without looking below.”
“I thought this through.” Sort of. Not really. He’d married a woman after one interview. There had to be something wrong with him! “So what do I do?”
“Is she a horrible person?”
The question surprised Xavier. “No.” She really wasn’t. Yes, she’d snapped back at him and stomped around and run off, but she wasn’t a bad person. She was pretty darn amazing, actually. And really, the more he thought about it, the more he realized he had behaved just as badly.
“Do you trust her with Cody?” Dad asked.
Xavier thought through the day. She’d taken care of him when he was hurt. And while he didn’t agree with putting Cody right back on the bike, she had a point about teaching him to do hard things. In the end, it wasn’t his mind that spoke to answer the question; it was his gut. “Yes.”
“Then go apologize for being a jerk and figure out how to work together.”
“What if she doesn’t apologize?” Oh, pride—thou goest before my fall. He wished he could take back the question, because he already knew the answer, but still—how does a man eat crow?
His dad laughed. “You’ve been alone too long. Women are amazing creatures! They give ten times more than they ask for. She may never say the words, but she’ll let you know she’s happy with you in so many other ways. Trust me—Say. The. Words.”
“Okay.” He could do it. He would do it. For her. For Cody. For them. The “them” rang through his chest and his head like a gong, bringing warm, tingly sensations. He liked the idea of a them and an us and a we when it came to him and Emily.
“Son?” His dad’s voice brought him out of the clouds and back to reality pretty quick. “Congratulations on your wedding. When your mom finds out about this, she’s going to box your ears.”
Xavier groaned. Of course Dad would have to tell Mom—that was how their marriage worked. Lots and lots of communication—no secrets, ever. Maybe that was a hard-earned lesson in their tough times. He’d do well to learn it before he and Emily had
to go through ten tough years. “Can you buy me a couple of days?” He needed to get things back on track, to make up for his behavior. Dad was right: he’d been alone too long—become set in his ways. At first, when he was forced to parent without a partner, he’d resented it, resented Nora for dying. It was crazy, he knew that, but nevertheless he’d had to deal with those emotions.
He had to find a way to compromise to work as a partner instead of behaving like a dictator.
“I’ll do my best,” offered Dad.
“Thanks.” They said goodbye and hung up.
Xavier took a moment to gather himself and run his hands through his hair. It was time to man up and be the type of husband Emily deserved.
12
Emily
Emily loved, loved, loved her room. Painted in a soft, serene blue, it had white beadboard going three-quarters of the way up the walls, topped off with a shelf that ran the length of the room. Several knickknacks were placed along the shelf, including a bottle of pebbles, a glass jar full of pinecones, and a sign that read “The mountains are calling and I must go. ~ John Muir.”
When she’d stepped inside, it felt like someone had designed the room just for her, and she’d instantly felt at home. She only wished the feeling would stick with her when she walked out the door.
Ugh! Xavier!
She carefully unpacked, not willing to make a mess of her drawers and closet just because she was mad at her husband. Husband, ha! More like employer who didn’t pay well enough to put up with his—
Knock, knock.
There was only one person that could be, and she wasn’t in the mood to talk to him right now. But she put on her big-girl panties and opened the door anyway.
Xavier stood there, his hands in his pockets and his head lowered as if expecting a blow. His shoulders rounded forward. None of the earlier combative nor defensiveness lingered on his stupid, handsome face.
“Hey.” She released the doorknob and stepped back into the room, continuing to unpack.
He shuffled several feet forward but hovered near the door. “How do you like the room?”
She paused and then stacked the T-shirts on the closet shelf. “It’s beautiful.”
He nodded. “I thought you’d like this one the best. There are two other guest bedrooms that way.” He pointed down the hall. “But this one seemed like a fit.”
She nodded, noting the fact that he’d said guest bedrooms—indicating that she was also a guest in the house that he’d built—but decided not to pounce on the choice of words.
“I’m, uh, sorry about earlier. I shouldn’t have come after you like that—about Cody.”
It was a lame apology as far as she was concerned, but it was an effort on his part. She could give him credit for trying. Perhaps over time he’d get better at it. “How’s his knee?”
“Fine.” Xavier ducked his head. “He overreacted. I think …”
She lifted an eyebrow, clearly stating that Cody wasn’t the only one who’d overreacted.
“I guess he gets that from me.”
She bit back her smile. That was better. Admitting fault was one thing; taking responsibility for his actions was much better. “Probably,” she agreed softly.
He ran his thumb along the doorjamb. “Soccer.”
“Excuse me?” She set down the pair of flowing pants that she was going to hang up because they wouldn’t stay folded.
“My parent made me play soccer all growing up.” He glanced at her and then away again. “I hated playing, I stunk at it, and I thought they were wrong to put me on the team every year when I didn’t want to be there. My two older brothers were superstars on the field, and I wanted to play the guitar.”
She furrowed her brow, unsure where this had come from and where it was going.
“You said he’d carry my issues around, and I realized that I do have an issue with parents forcing their kids into sports. I recognize that, and that riding a bike isn’t the same thing. “
“Ah.” Her defensive walls thinned. She could picture Xavier, an adorable though possibly awkward teen, in a soccer uniform on the sidelines, the weight of his older siblings’ success on his shoulders. He seemed to be one of those people who felt things deeper than most. He probably saw every practice and game as an injustice. Maybe he even wrote a song about it.
She could relate to parents’ expectations being too big. Heck, her mother had planned her and Lexi’s weddings a dozen times over. Emily had a tidal wave of disappointment coming her way, and she was an adult—able to deal with these things on a healthy emotional level. She couldn’t imagine how a teenager, with all of his angst, had processed the situation.
“Xavier, thank you for sharing that with me.” She stepped forward and placed a hand on his arm. “I can be sensitive to your past, but I can’t let it hold Cody back.” His hand twitched under hers. She reached for a compromise. “I’ll tell you what. I promise not to make Cody play soccer if he doesn’t want to.”
He grinned for a moment and then tugged her in for a hug. He smelled of dryer sheets and soap; his body was strong and yet gentle. She sighed into him, wondering if this was what women felt like when their husbands hugged them or if it was just her and Xavier who could have this kind of chemical reaction.
“I think he should try again tomorrow. I’ll come out with you guys, if you want.”
She nodded against his shoulder, needing a moment to gather her wits about her. For heaven’s sake, it was just a hug. However, his openness was some major progress. The walls she’d built with anger on her bike ride started to crumble in the face of his humility. She pulled back. “It’s a date.”
His eyes widened.
Her cheeks burned. “I didn’t mean—”
“I know.” He dropped his arms. “I’m going to work for a while, and then I’d like to give you a tour of the cabin.”
A tour? Yes. A tour was normal, everyday, and not at all romantic. They could act like fire didn’t burn between them while they went on a tour. She cocked a hip. “This is a cabin like rich people call a mansion on the beach the lake house.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, well, I was doing pretty good for a while there, and a second home was a good investment.”
She nodded. “Don’t get me wrong—I like it. I might get lost, but I like it.”
He smiled, and the distance between them that had seemed so large a half hour ago now shrank to mere inches. The details in the room faded to fuzzy shapes, and the colors blended together in a beautiful cocoon full of yummy sensations.
It was the kind of moment that was perfect for a make-up kiss. Where time was drawn out, the clock slowing to tick … tick … tick in the background, and the sunlight coming through the window with a golden tint.
She shook herself. “I’m going to start dinner.”
Xavier backed up several steps until he was in the middle of the hallway. “’Kay. Bye.” He was gone in a flash.
He’d felt that too, right? He had to. There was definitely more between them than either of them wanted to admit. His running away from her was the best action he could have taken. A romance would only complicate an already complicated situation.
Xavier escaped to the solitude of his studio. The white soundproof walls made it easy for him to block out a connection to anyone else in the house. He’d kept the doors open earlier, which was the only reason he’d heard Cody. But now he slid them shut, looking back twice to make sure they were closed tight.
He dashed across the room and snatched up a blank notebook. He had half a dozen of them open over the desk, each one a song in process. Sometimes, he went through thirty drafts before he put lyrics to music. Other times he started with a melody and the words came later. The process was never the same. If he could streamline it, he could make more money, but then his music might lose some of its individuality.
He wrote with chicken scratches, needing to get the words out more than he needed to breathe.
If it’s not a date
> Why is my heart beating so fast?
If there’s nothing to gain
Why does hope fly through my veins?
He tossed the pen down and leaned back in his chair. Emily’s slip of the tongue, calling their rendezvous tomorrow a date, had triggered the lyrics to appear. He rubbed his chest. His heart was beating fast. Hope was in his blood—though he wasn’t sure what he hoped for.
All art came from somewhere, and it appeared that his was tied to his wife. Mark was right: in order for him to create, he had to be married. It hadn’t been that way before, in college, but that was the way his muse worked now. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that or what he was going to do about it.
There was a part of him, a part he was trying to ignore, that said he should try for a friendlier relationship—one that involved holding Emily close and tasting her lips.
Tasting her lips …
He grabbed a fresh notebook and got to work on a song about an epic kiss that changed the fate of a man. He might not be able to take that path in real life, but he could live it through his music.
13
Emily
One of the benefits of the mansion-cabin was a huge deck off the back porch that faced east. All week long, Emily had been eyeing up that deck, wanting to do a sunrise yoga session listening to the early morning birds chirping and the rustling of the pine needles. There was something renewing about feeling the first rays of sunshine on her face that fed her soul.
Determined to make her dream a reality, she set her alarm for six. The men of the house wouldn’t stir until seven thirty, and she’d be in the shower by then, so there was no harm in wearing her running shirt and tight pants. She slid into them, reveling in the feel of being in her element. Instead of pulling her hair back, she brushed it out and left it hanging loose. The hiking shorts and baggy T-shirts were comfortable, but she didn’t feel like herself in them. This morning, she needed to feel like herself. There was this sense that she was getting lost in this house, her marriage, and being a mom.
The Cowboy Songwriter's Fake Marriage Page 7