by Mia Josephs
“I can’t. I just… I can’t have… We’re friends, Chris. I can’t do this right now.”
His arms dropped. “Corinne. Do what? Please let me know what I’m up against here.”
“I’m Jonah’s mother and his father is… He’s someone so much like you, it’s scary. Famous. Broken. Claimed I was his muse. The hell I went through with papers and magazines and Internet social media, and…” Her words died out, and he guessed she was done.
Her hesitation around him was definitely making more sense. “Can I ask who?”
“You can ask,” she suppressed a smile, “but I’m not ready to go there yet.”
Chris let out a slow breath. Someone he knew? The possibilities… Or maybe some random guy. Either way it was, “Okay.”
“Okay,” she said.
He had another idea. Pushing her toward what he really wanted wouldn’t work, but he had to find a way to get closer, to break down more walls. “Look. There’s this guy Max and Lita wanted to go listen to. He’s a student at the University of Oregon and close to my mom. I thought about going instead of Max or whomever he wants to send. See my mom. Come with me.”
“Right.” She leaned back, but hadn’t stepped away. “You know Lita James.”
“We’re going to tour together. You know. If I can get my shit together,” he teased. “Actually, it’s all planned. Whether or not I get my shit together, I’m going on tour with Lita James. And the amount of preparedness I’m able to manage will be equal to how much she likes or hates me.”
Corinne didn’t move, just watched him. Waiting for him to talk her into it—at least he hoped she was.
“You and Jonah and me. Road trip. About seven hours south or so, maybe not quite. I haven’t seen my mom in years, so yes, I’d be using you two as a buffer, but she’s awesome. And we’ll listen to this kid on the guitar, see if he’s any good. I love the idea of having someone open for us that no one’s heard of yet but who can play, and then we usually pick some local talent for the other person if we feel like it’s necessary. Or, if Lita thinks it’s necessary. She’s a force, that girl.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Then say yes.” He found himself leaning toward her again. Wanting to take her in his arms. Wanting to kiss her and sleep with her again, to feel her body pressed against him…
“I’ll think on it.” She stepped back. “See you tonight.”
“See you.” He sat back and watched her leave. He knew if there was just a way for her to feel like they were on a more level playing field, she might stop pushing him away. And being around his mom was a perfect way for Corinne to see he was a regular guy—at least he hoped.
Corinne’s phone rang as she stepped back into her truck, body weak from her brief conversation with Chris.
Heather.
“Hey!” Corinne answered. “How are things?”
“I’m in London waiting for my last flight to Germany where Dan’s at.”
Corinne bit her lip afraid to ask.
Heather sniffed a few times. “I got to talk to him. He’s okay. I mean...he’s not okay, but he’s awake and he’s going to be okay.”
Corinne blinked a few times and tears rolled down her cheeks. Relief. Despite her wretched fit of a pity party the night before, she was filled with happiness for her friend.
“I’m so glad I have him, you know?” Heather’s voice was still higher than normal as she tried not to cry.
“I’m glad you have him, too.” Glad her friend had someone. The someone. Because at some point Heather had fallen in love, and he’d fallen in love and they’d built something together. It was why she let herself fall for John after her first rock star broke her heart, and it was why her heart was pulling her toward someone new. She had a hope for love that she wasn’t sure how to push away—or again, maybe that was just her heart.
Corinne was faced with the reality that she’d let herself start falling for Chris, and maybe that was okay. As much as she’d forced her life into a place where it felt complete, a part of her missed having someone to share everything with. Someone to come home to.
“Oh crap! They’re boarding early!” Heather shouted.
“Go run! I’ll catch you up later.” And the phone went dead.
She ached for her friend, and the missed chance to talk for a moment. How would someone like Christian Meyer ever be just a regular guy? And how often would they be able to come home to each other with his schedule?
They wouldn’t.
Corinne just had to decide if that was okay or not. And maybe a road trip would be a perfect way to do that.
Jonah brushed his teeth with the ferocity of someone truly dedicated to getting rid of all the sugar bugs. Chris sat on the floor just outside the bathroom door as he’d started to do every night. How had he passed the time before this? Just spending time watching Jonah do his homework, and writing with Corinne took up so much. He’d had no idea his existence had been so empty. Now he was well aware of what he’d been lacking.
“You like Aunt Corinne.”
He wasn’t exactly sure what to say, or how to approach this subject with a five-year-old. “Uh...yeah. Of course I like her.”
“No.” Jonah’s expression turned very adult and Chris bit back a smile. “Like her, like her. I can tell.”
“How’s that?”
“The way you look at her.” Jonah put his toothbrush away.
“The way I—” But just then Corinne stepped in the door, cheeks still pinked from work and yoga pants hugging her toned legs.
“Like that.” Jonah giggled and Chris reached for him with a smile, but Jonah rolled away squealing.
“He get away from you?” Corinne laughed.
“Seems to be genetic,” Chris teased.
“Hmm…” She paused. “Thanks again. I like teaching the evening classes because they’re bigger and I never get to. Or…” She widened her eyes at Jonah. “He has to come sit and watch.”
Jonah wrinkled his nose up. “Bor-ring.”
Chris laughed, unable to imagine watching Corinne do yoga in her tight pants boring. Though, his perspective was completely different than Jonah’s. He’d spent hours in his mother’s dance studio as a kid, and there were days when it had been torture.
Jonah ran into his room and she leaned against the wall, her eyes on him. “What if… What if I’d thought about it a little more, and decided that getting away for a few days might be nice.”
He let his smile take over. “Even if it’s with me?”
“Even if it’s with you.”
Jonah peeked around the door to his room and gave Chris a thumbs up. Guess he was okay with him liking his Auntie Corinne. Chris couldn’t wait to get on the road.
ELEVEN
When they pulled into the driveway of Chris’ mom’s house, Corinne suddenly felt like she shouldn’t be there. The wood house was old, worn, and bigger than she expected. And very alone. The last house was several miles back, making her realize that Chris had probably felt more at home in her cabin than she first suspected. Tall trees and a massive lawn circled the wood-sided home. Six hours in the car had flown by in a blink, and at that moment, Corinne wished for another hour to prepare for...whatever this was going to be.
A large building flanked the driveway, looking almost empty but sided in the same wood as the house. ‘What’s that?”
“Dance studio.” His words were short. Tension?
“Way out here?” she asked.
Chris let out a short breath. “Yep. She’s a good teacher. I’m sure you’ll get the tour.”
Corinne scanned the wide driveway again. The studio. The house. This was Christian Meyer’s history, and he wanted her to be part of it.
Chris pulled in a deep breath his body stiff with tension. “Okay. Now is when I get out and see my mom, huh?”
She grasped his hand without thinking, the rain making soft plipping sounds on the roof of the car. “It’ll be good. You told her we were coming, righ
t?”
Chris smiled, leaned over, and kissed her cheek.
So...had he or hadn’t he? Oh, no. Had they just shown up?
A tall, slender woman stepped onto the porch. Silver hair, knee-length skirt, ballet shirt, warm smile. Corinne relaxed, but just a bit.
“Did she know we’re coming?”
“Mom likes surprises.” Chris pushed out a breath and got out of the truck, the gravel driveway crunching beneath his feet.
What?
His mom’s eyes widened, and Corinne watched through the window like a silent movie as his mom threw her arms around him and held on. Her throat welled up as Chris’ eyes closed and once again she saw him as someone other than the famous guy he was. Someone’s son. Brother. Friend. Someone who loved and someone who was loved.
When they broke away Chris jogged back to the car and both Corinne and Jonah slid out.
“I’m worried we shouldn’t be here,” Corinne whispered. “Or that your mom will get the wrong idea, or…”
Chris squeezed her hand. “Nope. This is perfect.”
She was out of the car and her own feet crunched on the gravel as she followed Chris.
“Mom, this is Corinne and Jonah. Corinne and Jonah, this is my mom, Brooke.”
Corinne reached out her hand but was pulled into a hug instead.
When she released Corinne, Brooke did stick her hand out for Jonah and she smiled as Jonah straightened his shoulders and shook her hand.
“Let’s all get out of the rain, shall we?” his mom asked, tucking a thick chunk of silver hair over her shoulder.
“Yes.” Corinne stepped forward and Chris’s arm went immediately over her shoulders.
“Thank you for coming. You have no idea,” he whispered.
She felt like he was almost shaking next to her. Nerves? Excitement? Both?
What she did know was that she was about to step into his past and with that would come a whole different level of understanding. She wondered again if this had been a good idea.
The house felt the same. Smelled the same. Wooden walls, enormous kitchen in the wide-open space with windows looking over his mother’s unconventional, scattered garden. And the smell…so similar to Corinne’s house. Not the same, but so similar.
He tightened his hold around Corinne, body shaking in familiarity, nerves, uncertainty, as if holding her tighter would anchor him better.
He’d missed this place. He’d missed family. How had he let it happen? It had been years since he’d come home. And years longer than that since he’d come home sober. He breathed in again letting the feeling of his childhood wash over him.
“And this is your songwriter?” Brooke asked.
“Yeah.” Chris gave Corinne another squeeze before reluctantly dropping his arm. “And I’m weaseling my way into being her friend too.”
Corinne gave him a smile and walked a few steps away to join Jonah at the tall windows that bordered the garden.
His mom paused in front of him scanning his face. Years passed between them. The million ways he was sorry and the million ways his mother had missed him. Some things there were words for, and some things there weren’t. She squeezed his shoulders, her eyes welling with tears.
“I’m sober,” he whispered. “Two hundred and fifty-one days.”
“I can tell.” She smiled up at him, revealing a few more wrinkles than he remembered her having, but the same kind eyes. She dabbed at the corners for a moment. “You’re almost looking like yourself again.”
Relief pressed into him. He blinked a few times holding in his own tears. “I hope so. I couldn’t write…for so long, and now I am. It felt…”
She hugged him from the side. “Awful. I’m sure.”
He nodded. “It’s okay that they came, right? I just—”
“Wanted a buffer.” Of course she’d know. “And I love that you brought them. I’m teaching a ballroom class in about a half an hour, but you two just… You know. This is your house, too.”
“Thanks.”
His mom’s gaze wandered from Chris to Corinne who watched him—her eyes seeming conflicted, even from across the room.
But she was here. And that felt like perfection.
He grasped Corinne’s hand and led her back out to the driveway. “I’m sure her class is almost over.”
Corinne started to talk.
“And the front door is open, and Jonah knows where we’re going, and he’s fine,” Chris teased.
“I know.” Corinne pushed out a breath. “So you used to dance, huh?”
“Only when forced. I gave Mom no end of frustration with my total lack of caring about dance. I’m not a bad tap dancer, and I know my ballroom. You’re welcome to make fun of me at any time.”
“No.” Her hand tightened in his. “I won’t make fun of you for that. Now the lack of food in your house…”
He laughed. “I’m a crap cook.”
The lights in the dance studio poured out the windows onto the damp driveway, but only a couple cars remained.
Chris paused before opening the door, knowing he was about to be hit with another rush of memories and feelings he hadn’t had to deal with sober for so long.
The air from inside wafted over him as he opened the door and he froze for a minute remembering countless days as a child and as a kid coming home from school and stepping through these doors.
Corinne bumped into his back, but stayed there, her body resting against his. “You okay?”
“Okay.”
“Oh, good!” Brooke called. “Perfect. I’m helping Jeanette and Stephen get ready for their wedding.”
Chris paused at the edge of the floor to see a couple in the middle all awkward arms and legs and his mother floating around them, adjusting arms, chins, hand placement…
“This is so great,” Corinne said softly.
Brooke ushered them in and Chris smiled. Normally he’d want to roll his eyes at his mother wanting him to dance, but this time he had a partner he’d have done anything with.
“You two can show them how it’s done.” Brooke smiled.
Corinne started shaking her head, her face pulled into a fantastic smile of disbelief. “I don’t dance. I just…”
Chris took the opportunity to lean in and whisper. “You did great the other night.”
Her face pinked and his mom paused next to him. “You can lead anyone, but I think it’s been far too long since you danced with your mother.”
Chris licked his lips. “That wasn’t really what I had in mind.”
“Yes. Well.” His mother’s smile was unrelenting, and so was she. He knew from experience.
“Don’t move,” he told Corinne. “And don’t laugh.”
“I make no such promises.” Her smile split even wider, and he thought maybe this would be an okay thing. Dancing with his mom in front of the woman he really wanted to be his.
“Simple waltz so Stephen can see how to lead,” his mother said.
Better than the foxtrot. His mother loved that damn dance, and he cursed his feet all the time for being good at it.
He held his arms at the ready, and just like countless times before, he led his mother in a waltz. Simple, safe, easy.
His mother called out a few directions to Stephen, and already the couple had loosened up a little as they did a much more subtle version of the spinning waltz he danced with his mom.
“Now you can indulge your old mom.” She winked. “Since you’ve been gone so long.”
“Oh, hell.” Chris sighed with a smile. How had he not come home before this? “Really? You’re going to pull out the guilt card?”
“Anything I can.” She flitted away with her light, dancer’s feet.
Damn foxtrot music came on over the speakers.
“Mom,” he protested.
“Oh, shush. No one around here is as good as you. I’m sure those worn shoes of yours will work just fine.”
She stepped into his arms, shoulders back, head high, perfectly distance
d, and perfectly poised. Ballroom from her head to her toes. Chris cast a quick glance toward Corinne at the idea that she was about to see him in a way that no one but his family had—well and the few dancers at the studio at the few given times.
Shit. Now or never.
Chris pulled back his shoulders, and jumped into the quick steps with his mom lightly following, neither missing a step. One round of the room and Chris led them to a stop, his mother laughing and him out of breath.
He coughed a few times. “That’s what I get for smoking.”
“I didn’t catch your name,” Stephen said as he stepped forward, their private lesson obviously had been completely taken over.
“Chris.” He held out a hand. “Christian.”
“Yes.” His mother waved her hand toward Chris dismissively, but her face was full of pride. “This is my rock star son. Please say you didn’t take pictures, because I’m sure he’d hate the YouTube fallout, and then he’ll have an excuse to never dance with me again.”
The couple chuckled and Chris shook his head. “Doesn’t matter, Mom.”
“Now.” She clapped her hands. “Your lesson has been cut short, so let’s play around with a Salsa.”
She let her s’s draw out longer than necessary—another tide-over from when he was a kid.
“This means you’re mine.” Chris grinned as he took the few steps to Corinne, pulling her tightly against him.
“Is this appropriate?” she asked with a smirk.
“I plan on dancing completely indecently with you.” He twisted his hips, moving her body with him. “You’ve been warned.”
She laughed, her breath prickling at the hairs on his neck.
“So, did I just strip my manhood in front of you with my shocking display of a foxtrot?”
She shook her head and rested her chin on his shoulder. “Any man who is good to his mom… Definitely still have your man card.”
He wanted to tease back, but her voice was so serious, her body so relaxed against his… He wanted to hold the moment. And then the music started.
His mom was busy with the couple who had paid for private lessons.