Blurring the Lines

by Mia Josephs

  She knew she could sputter out a bunch of excuses, but instead she decided she’d work at playing cool. For the first time last night she’d had sex with a man she barely knew. Surely she could handle Max.

  “You live here?” she asked.

  Max shook his head and set his coffee down. “You tell me to help you keep your distance, and then…” He gestured loosely with his hand toward the open stairs to the upper level. His tone wasn’t disapproving or irritated, more...teasing?

  Corinne shrugged, in hopes she’d be able to play off the night like no big deal. “Just one night, Max. I leave in a few hours. It was my idea. Don’t be too hard on him.”

  Max watched her closely for a moment more before his face became more relaxed and he took a long drink of his coffee. “I saw the stack of papers in the studio downstairs. Looks like you two were busy yesterday.”

  Corinne leaned against the counter, unsure of where she should be. The main floor of Chris’ house looked decorated, not at all like something he’d do. Sparse like his bedroom, very white, and too modern for her, and she thought for him. But it wasn’t like she knew Chris all that well.

  “He wrote more last night. Alone.” She shifted her weight again. “My things are downstairs. I’m going to pack up.”

  “You brought a small carry-on. You can pack later. Let’s talk.” Max patted the stool next to him. “Chris always has scones from the B and B down the beach in the fridge. Help yourself.”

  She wasn’t ready to eat. She was still half in shock to not be at home in Alpine Heights anymore. Add, after having sex with Christian Meyer in his house, and she felt completely muddled.

  “How are you, really?” Max asked. “With your messy life.”

  “Some days better than others,” she admitted as she sat, resting her arms on the counter and half wishing she wasn’t sharing her morning with Max.

  Max knew her LA story, and had gotten the brief version of what had happened with her since then because he was the one who continued to find her work writing songs. She didn’t like to look back at her life as a series of tragic events, but there were days when she didn’t know how else to see it.

  “How’s Jonah?” Max asked. “He’s got to be like five? Six now?”

  She blinked a few times as she thought about him. Wondered how he was doing with her so far away. “Fine. He’s fine. Five. Amazes me daily, actually.”

  Chris’ stumbling entrance into the room silenced their conversation.

  “Sorry,” Chris mumbled as he rubbed his face and scratched his forehead, making his hair an even bigger mess than before.

  Her heart flipped. Why did that have to be so damn sexy?

  Corinne watched his arms flex underneath his grey t-shirt and the line of his waist as he stretched and second-guessed her decision to crawl out of bed.

  Max bumped her leg with his knee giving her a smirk and her cheeks heated up.

  “I…I should…get going,” she stammered and Chris paused, looking at her through slanted eyes.

  “Going where?”

  “Home.” She moved for the stairs heading down, trying to shove the masses of dark curls off her face.

  “Already?” His voice was a bit high and his eyes widened. Once again she got a glimpse of the little-boy Christian, eager and worried.

  “It’s noon, Chris. My plane leaves in about three hours.”

  Chris rubbed his hand over his face again and already the movement felt familiar from him. She started to wonder how many other ticks he had. “Man,” he said. “It went so fast. Too fast.”

  “Oh, no,” she said lightly as she started down the stairs. “You’ll be totally fine without me. I’m going to grab my bag. Be right back.”

  Once she was out of sight, she flew. Her heart pounded, telling her that she might have gotten in deeper with him than she intended. Then she stopped at her small bag and let out a small laugh. Right. Christian Meyer would forget about her within a week. Maybe sooner.

  She was still okay.

  Chris stood staring at where she’d gone downstairs, choking on the idea of her leaving, and not just because of what they’d done together the night before. He was writing again. With her. What if he couldn’t when she was gone? What if he went back to how it all was before she came? Hands shaking as soon as he picked up a pen and paper? He could not go back to that.

  “Chris.” Max snapped his fingers a few times pulling Chris out of his trance.

  “Sorry, what?” Chris turned toward a frowning Max.

  “I told you to leave her alone.” Max adjusted his rolled sleeves.

  Chris was used to Max getting agitated, but this felt like more. “Maybe if you’d given me some idea as to why.” With how Corinne was purposefully vague, he was even more curious.

  “Because I said so!”

  Chris stared. Had that really left his friend’s mouth?

  Max’s eyes widened for a moment and he snorted and started laughing. Chris’ shoulders relaxed.

  “That’s not something I ever thought I’d say.” Max’s laughter died to a chuckle. “Ever.”

  “You know you don’t have to use the keys I gave you every time you come over.” Chris pointed to the obvious fact that Max was eating a scone and drinking Chris’ coffee.

  Max shrugged but his eyes were still on Chris hard enough that he felt he owed his friend an explanation.

  “We’d been dancing around each other all day yesterday,” Chris started. Really, he’d been watching her starting the second he stepped in the room. “I didn’t make the first move. I swear. Well, sort of...”

  Max’s brows rose. “But I’d bet money you didn’t pause once she did.”

  “Not so much.” Chris pulled open the fridge and snatched a scone, stuffing it in his microwave. “And I’d do it again, too.”

  Max winced.

  Chris stopped with his hand still resting on the handle of the microwave. “Is she your sister or something? You’re just being weird.”

  “Just a friend,” Max said and clipped his words when Corinne hit the top step.

  “I’m gonna call a cab,” Corinne said. “And you know how to reach me if you two need anything else.”

  His eyes took in her body again. Another pair of worn jeans and a black tank this time. Everything hugging her toned body and perfect slimmed curves.

  Hell. Chris wasn’t ready for her to go. Panic welled up inside him. “I’ll drive you,” he blurted and Max coughed.

  Screw Max.

  Or maybe make it sound like business. “I’ll drive you and then we can maybe talk over a few of the things we didn’t finish yesterday.”

  Corinne’s face went flat, and for a second he thought she was going to tell him no. “No, it’s good. I don’t want to trouble you.”

  “No trouble.” He shook his head, almost desperate for a few more minutes with her. “I love my car.”

  Chris had every right to love his car. Royal blue 1966 convertible Mustang. The sun beat down on Corinne’s skin and she closed her eyes letting the wind wash over her. She wasn’t sure why Chris offered to take her to the airport, since the wind and traffic noise made conversation almost impossible, but it beat a cab or the car Max might have called.

  As the air pulled at her curls she tried not to think about how it had felt writing songs with Chris. How it had felt to kiss him. To feel his skin against hers. The problem was that she didn’t have just herself to think about. After suffering so much over her broken heart, not once, but twice, she wasn’t sure when or if she’d ever want to move on with someone else—especially someone who would slam her straight back into the spotlight.

  “I always feel like it takes me forever to get here,” Chris said as the airport signs began to appear. “Today it flew.”

  “Hmm.”

  He pulled over at her airlines and jumped out of the car, grabbing her door just before she could push her way out.

  “Thank you, Corinne.” He started to pull her into his arms, but she fr
oze and quickly glanced around for prying eyes.

  She found the words and pushed them to the surface. “One night Chris.”

  “Relax.” He smiled. “This hug is all about the music, okay?”

  She tried not to stare at his body and tried not to feel the hardness of his chest or the strength he used to hold her to him. Tried to stop the snapshots of the night before as his arms wrapped around her waist and his breath slid against her neck. Total fail.

  She didn’t know what to say. A thank you would be fine, but she felt like it should be more. At the same time, she was ready to re-distance herself from him and music and LA and everything, so she didn’t want to encourage him either.

  “This has been unexpected,” she said as she forced herself to pull away. Made her hands slip from his back and her arms rest against her sides.

  He handed her the bag from the backseat with a boyish smile that turned her to mush. “In a good way?”

  Getting on that plane had to get him back out of her mind. At the very least, it would put enough space between them that she wouldn’t have to worry about doing something stupid. And her desire to leave would hopefully make the flight a little less stressful. “A good way. Good luck with your album.”

  He watched her with too much intensity again so she moved for the airport door tipping her hair forward and hoping no one had seen Christian Meyer. Or her. Or her with Christian Meyer. Yes. She was ready for home. She had to get some distance.

  FOUR

  Corinne stood on her parents’ porch of their very large, very preened home near downtown Seattle. Ever since leaving at seventeen, she’d felt like a visitor—even though she’d grown up there.

  “Oh, good. You didn’t lose your ticket.” Her mother answered the door in slacks and a pale blouse. “You made it back.”

  Irritation tensed her to her bones, but she plastered on a smile. “They don’t give out tickets anymore, mother. There’s no such thing as losing your ticket. I’m assuming that’s what you meant.”

  They both knew perfectly well that was not what her mother meant. When Corinne left at seventeen, her trip was supposed to last a week. It wasn’t that she’d lost her return ticket, it’s that she hadn’t used her return ticket.

  “Auntie Corinne!” Jonah sped down the stairs and threw himself in her arms.

  This.

  She breathed in the kid smell of him and hugged his small body tightly to hers. This right here was the guiding force in her life. Nothing else. Jonah was all she needed to remind her that she’d worked really hard to get her life on a good track. Christian Meyer was a terrible idea. LA was a terrible idea. Living the horror of her face on tabloids with Jonah? Never going to happen. She was home. She was safe again. “I’m so happy to see you! Did you have fun with Grandma and Grandpa?”

  “Yep.” He pulled back. “I got my bag packed and everything!”

  “Okay.” Corinne leaned against the door jam. “We’re headed home then. I’m wiped.”

  Her mom nodded, brushing her smoothed, dark hair over her shoulder. “He was fine. A good kid. All that work your sister put in.”

  Even in a short sentence, Corinne felt the jab. Of course her sister had been better and more responsible in almost every way, but it didn’t need to be rubbed in—especially since her sister was gone.

  “She was amazing,” Corinne conceded because there was no point in calling her mom out on anything. She’d only deny it, and they’d be in another awkward battle of words or wills or...something. And her sister had been fairly perfect in every way. She missed her daily.

  “How’s Dad?” Corinne asked.

  Her mother sighed. “In his office. Where else?”

  Of course. Corinne’s father was an architect. He’d stooped low enough to design her small cabin, but he did commercial buildings, and Corinne often wondered if her mother would have been happier if he’d kept his office outside their home. He was there, but rarely available.

  “Ready?” Corinne asked Jonah as he dragged his backpack down the stairs to the door.

  Jonah grinned. “Let’s go home.”

  Yes. Corinne was very ready for home. For peace. To be back in the small cabin that had been her sanctuary for close to five years.

  Corinne ran her hands over the smooth Corian countertop. “A must,” her dad had said as he built her small home. “Granite is boring.”

  She hadn’t cared about boring. She’d just given birth to a baby that was being taken care of by her sister who was thrilled to have him. She’d left LA under fire from a paparazzi nightmare, and years later, she still sometimes dreamed about the man who had so casually discarded her.

  But the rest of the house? It was all her, and she breathed in the spices and distinct wood stove smell of her home—so different from the sleek Malibu palace she’d just left. This cabin smelled like safety and a life she was desperate to do right. A sharp twist of missing John, her fiancé, dug in. They’d shared her small house for a year before he died. One amazing year of warmth and comfort and perfection. Another reminder of how temporary life could be.

  “They’re coming!” Jonah yelled from one of the many windows that took up the front wall of her A-Frame log cabin.

  Corinne laughed. “Well, go on and meet them. We both know the rain’s going to start any day now and after that comes snow.”

  “And today it’s sunneee!” He pushed through the door and she heard Heather yelp—probably having to do with Jonah nearly knocking her down the stairs on his way down to the driveway to play.

  “Stay within sight and sound of the house!” Heather yelled while still just out of sight.

  Corinne dropped a tea bag in Heather’s mug and stepped out of the small kitchen that rested underneath the loft where her bedroom sat.

  “I must know everything. How was it? How was he?” Heather grinned as she stepped inside, tossing her coat onto one of the many hooks that adorned the small expanse of wall between the door and the narrow stairs.

  She stepped around the back of the worn, leather couch before flopping to sitting. Her dark brown bob was perfectly smoothed, and her clothes were perfectly layered and matched—a feat Corinne rarely attempted. Too much work. No one to impress.

  “Oh, he was fine,” Corinne answered in a loose, relaxed voice, and Heather’s brows shot up in a ‘really?’ gesture.

  Corinne chuckled as she darted back into the kitchen, grabbing her own mug. “Gimme a sec.”

  She slid around the tiny table and onto one of the very few pieces of worn furniture crowded into her tiny living room. Holding her tea carefully, she sat on the opposite end of the couch from Heather so they could just see out the door and the windows along the front to keep an eye on the kids.

  It was all standard. The tea. The well-traveled path between their two homes. The questions. The kids. Shouts came from outside, and Corinne stared at the wood ceiling of her log cabin as she thought. Breathing in deeply it hit her again how calm her life in Washington was—the fresh pine air was a million times better than canned air conditioning or the smog air of LA. Though on the beach… That had been pretty great.

  “You’re killing me with the suspense here.” Heather chuckled as she clutched her mug.

  Heather’s curiosity wasn’t surprising. The questions were bound to come. Corinne had crashed the night before, and they hadn’t really talked since she left three days ago.

  Heather had all the dirty details of Corinne’s past. All of them. She knew Corinne wasn’t thrilled about going, and Corinne knew that Heather also hoped she’d let go and enjoyed herself a little. Corinne scratched her head a few times as she thought about what she’d tell her friend. Probably everything.

  “It was good. I guess. I’m glad to be home.” Corinne blew on her tea. But Heather deserved more. She had saved Corinne’s sanity when her sister, her sister’s husband, and her fiancé had all been killed in a small plane accident two years ago. It still took her breath away to think about it.

  “T
hat’s not what I’m seeing all over your face....” Heather’s fine dark brows rose as she smirked. “And there’s no way I’m going to let you get away with that little information.”

  “I know.” Corinne faintly smiled as she thought about what her two days were like.

  “Oh…” Heather scooted sideways, her tidy brown bob shifting forward and across her face. “I recognize that look. Spill. Did you do the rule-breaking I begged you to do?”

  Corinne’s cheeks flushed. Heather was the only one who knew everything about Corinne’s life, so sharing this should be no different. “I did.”

  Heather’s smile turned mischievous. “How naughty were you?”

  Corinne blinked and every time her lids came together, she saw another flash of her night with Chris. And every time she saw a flash, she felt one too, sending quick rushes of heat through her body.

  “Whoa.” Heather touched her arm. “Corinne?”

  “One night.” She stared at her mug. “I told him one night.”

  “Christian Meyer,” Heather clarified slowly, the grip on Corinne’s arm tightening. “One night with Christian freaking Meyer?”

  Corinne nodded, the gravity of it pulling on her. Another broken rock star. What a mess. But even as she thought it, she felt her mouth pull into a smile. Yes. As Heather had said, Christian freaking Meyer.

  “Only you. Seriously.” Heather looked at Corinne’s first disastrous affair with someone famous as an adventure into that world. Corinne still thought it was just a disaster. “Not one hot rock star but two?” She laughed a fun, girlish laugh.

  “But,” Corinne countered, “this time I took control and said just one night. I’m not getting trapped there again.”

  Heather snorted with a grin. “Only you would say ‘trapped’ and ‘with Christian Meyer’ in the same thought.”

  “Oh come on.” Corinne gestured outside to where their kids were playing. “I tried the relationship thing last time I was...there. We saw how that turned out.”

  “Still…” Heather grinned. “For Christian Meyer, I think I’d risk it. I just… I can’t believe your life. I can’t believe you choose this”—Heather gestured to the tiny log cabin that Corinne shared with little Jonah—“over that.”