by Mia Josephs
“I think you won’t approve, and I’ve already figured out where I should be.” The phone call from Jaxen had only barely put her on the path she was on before Christian Meyer dropped into her life. She wasn’t sure she wanted to lose any part of her stability again.
“Should be for who?”
“What do you mean for who?”
“Who are you protecting? Yourself? Jonah? Me? No one?”
“Yes to all.” She didn’t know anymore. “Everything feels mixed up, and it wasn’t supposed to.”
“Well.” Her mom clasped her hands together. “Then I would like to know what was supposed to happen.”
“I…” From what point exactly? “Well, I was supposed to have made the smart decision and come home from California and felt like it was the smart decision.”
“But you don’t feel like it was the smart decision?”
“I know it was the smart decision, but that doesn’t mean it feels like it.” Corinne scoffed. “But my track record isn’t exactly stellar.”
“No. It’s not,” her mom agreed.
Corinne laughed. Laughed. “How do I not know what to do?”
“Because you’re trying too hard to think about what is right instead of thinking about what is right for you.”
The fog that had littered her head and her heart started to clear. What even was right for her? And would she be totally selfish if all she thought about while making huge life decisions was herself?
But at the same time, would it be fair to Jonah to say or feel or know that she’d given up something big for him, not even knowing that her decision would leave him damaged.
Maybe if it were all her terms. Her way. What she wanted. Right for her.
And maybe it was no longer what she wanted. It was who she wanted.
“I think…,” she said softly. “I think but I’m not sure… I think my life is about to change.”
Chris’ days blended together. Cities blended together. Shows blended together.
The worst part about it all was that he could understand Corinne’s hesitation. Could see why she wouldn’t want to put Jonah through the mess that came with him. By that point, he really should have forgotten about her.
Still, even if Corinne wasn’t with him, he craved the idea that they could be talking. Could be emailing every day. Instead he’d been talking to his sponsor more than needed. Spending time in his room as they traveled. Being generally a recluse aside from the times that Donovan pulled him out. Not seeing her while they were in Washington had about killed him—weeks after that, it was still killing him.
His phone beeped in a text, but he really wasn’t in the mood for whatever promo opportunity Max wanted him to jump into. One of the nice things about touring with several people was that they could take turns doing the in-person interviews.
He pulled the phone off the nightstand of his hotel room and opened his messages. Everything inside him stopped.
Corinne.
It had been...so long. So far. Another country and an ocean away.
Corinne: I miss you. Do you hate me or…
Hate her? How could she… His thumb hovered over the call button, but she was talking, and he didn’t want to stop the conversation.
Chris: I could never hate you. I understand the decision. Wish I didn’t, but I do. Miss you.
He held his breath waiting for her response. Had he said too much? Not enough?
Corinne: Been thinking. A lot. Haven’t been fair to you. Maybe not to me either.
Had she changed her mind?
Chris: Plan on showing up after the tour to beg to see you. Spend time with you.
Corinne: What if I went public? We did?
Public? With him?
Chris: Anything Corinne. Anything. I’ll be next to you. I’ll help. I’ll do anything.
He laughed as the relief of having another chance hit him. Another chance...
Corinne: Miss you too. I’ll be in touch
He started to write her back, but knew she was done. She was thinking, and hopefully those thoughts would lead her back to him.
Corinne stared at her phone.
If she were the one to come forward, the chaos might happen on her terms, and even if it didn’t… Even if it didn’t, she’d have Chris, and she had Jonah, and things were solid. Life was solid. Or could be.
Jaxen would be in and out. But Chris… Maybe he could be the constant. Maybe it was time to actually live, move forward, and trust someone again. Chris had done everything. Made every move. Maybe now it was her turn.
“Jonah!” she called. “Do you want to go on another plane?”
TWENTY-EIGHT
“I’m going insane!” Chris clutched his phone and stared at the fifteen messages he’d sent her over the past day.
Max laughed and leaned against the hotel room door. “Chris. Chill. She got in touch. It’s fine. Another month of Europe and then you can go home. There are worse things.”
“I’m dying here. You have to know I’m dying.”
Max grabbed his shoulders with a laugh. “Get a grip. She sent you a note. That’s all. It means she wants to talk, so when she’s ready, she’ll call. Aside from that? Let. It. Go.”
Chris sat on the edge of the bed. “How did I let her walk away? How did I not drop everything and follow her?”
“Because nothing is certain. Because your album was all you. Because she said she didn’t want you to come. Because we both know you’re miserable when you’re not performing and she deserves a better version of you than that. She is a person and therefore slightly unreliable. A million reasons.”
“None as important as her.” Chris stood, but Max jerked him back to sitting.
“Walking out now won’t do anyone any good, okay? Weeks, Chris. That’s all anyone is asking for. Weeks.”
He felt like a kid all over again. Where every minute was an eternity.
A knock at the door and Max jumped up to answer. “Donovan!”
Chris lifted his head to see the guy slowly move into the room. “What can I do for you?”
“Need distraction.” Donovan sat. “Sierra’s avoiding me… I think. And I don’t know why, and I’m going crazy.”
“Oh, hell no.” Max grasped the handle. “I’m going out tonight. You two girls can sit and talk relationships, just don’t talk each other into anything stupid.”
The door slammed behind Max and Chris stared at his phone.
“Okay?” Donovan asked.
“I have absolutely no idea,” Chris answered. “But I’m still clean, I’m writing even though its damn depressing stuff, so yeah… You know, it could be better, but I’m still, even in this state, a million miles ahead of where I was a year ago.”
And then it hit him. He was okay. He missed Corinne so bad it was hard to breathe, and of all the times in his life that would have been acceptable to be pissing drunk night after night, he was currently at that point. And he was sober. Still. Writing. A shaky okay, but okay.
Donovan nodded absently. “We’ll have to talk about that sometime.”
Chris sighed. “Okay, Van. Tell me about what’s going on with you and Sierra because Lord knows I need the distraction right now.”
And he did.
And it was distracting.
And it wasn’t perfect.
But he was okay.
“You’re still sure, Jonah?” Corinne asked.
“Mom.” He sighed, folding his arms. “Of course I’m sure. We’ve talked about it for two days.”
“Two days sometimes isn’t enough.” She re-crossed her legs, wishing she had actual legroom. Flying private one time had already spoiled her. Jonah calling her Mom was like music—like all the mistakes were worth it for the trust her son was putting in her. And she was finally trying to really live for both of them.
“You said that people might talk about us. That our house won’t be as quiet.” He had on his “grown-up” voice, which always made her smile.
“That’s
right.”
“And I said that we care who we are, and not what other people say.” His chin jutted out in defiance.
Corinne smiled. “Right.”
His determined face fell a little. “And I miss Chris.”
Her chest tightened with excitement, happiness, hopefulness. “I think we’ll have fun.”
“I do too,” Jonah said. “We’re going to build so many airplanes, Mom. So many.”
She blinked back tears as they stood, and walked down the ramp into the chaotic airport.
Heathrow was a blur of accents, cars and people. So many people. Jonah grinned through all of it, and Corinne had been thankful since she made the decision to come that they drove to Canada often enough to have passports.
The car Max sent waited in the rain and both Corinne and Jonah ran from the curb and jumped in the backseat with their small bags. She hadn’t taken much time to pack, but at least she’d opened the boxes of clothes Chris had sent. Once she’d decided, she’d booked the next flight out of Seattle. It gave her one hour to leave her house, and she knew she was missing something like clean underwear or toothpaste but it wasn’t important. What was important was that she was about to give family a second chance.
The driver pulled up behind the theater and security gave them the one-finger “hold on” sign. Her nerves danced in excitement and anticipation of seeing Chris again. Of surprising him. Of trying to trust what he said. That he’d take them in any way. Even now. In the middle of his tour and in the rain and uncertain and hopeful and not knowing a million things about their future and how they’ll work. But with that unquenchable hope that she was about to start a new life. Again.
Max waved her in with a smile, and she and Jonah made another sprint for the door.
The sound of music and crowd immediately accosted them.
Jonah grabbed his ears.
Max pulled her into a hug. “Good to see you.”
“Thanks for this,” she yelled.
Max nodded once.
“It’s going to be loud!” Corinne yelled toward Jonah. “I should have warned you!”
Jonah grinned so wide that she knew it didn’t matter. She was making the big step this time. She was showing up. Not just she. Her and Jonah. Together.
“You’re early.” Max laughed. “He has a few more songs yet. I figured with traffic and weather you wouldn’t make it until after the end.”
She wasn’t early. She was weeks late. Maybe more.
She followed Max through the maze of backstage halls and curtains until the glow from the stage lights said she was close.
“Only a woman…only you… my saving Grace…”
Jonah’s hand was clutched in hers as she stopped and her heart leapt. This had to be the song Heather talked about. She wouldn’t have to listen to it alone.
Corinne rested her hand on her chest. Christian Meyer. Onstage. Worn jeans, boots and a t-shirt, just like he’d wanted.
...and only a woman, can let me go…
...lifted up…
...so high…
More finger work on the strings, a riff she recognized, but a song she’d never heard all the words to.
...and only a woman, can make me fly…
His fingers picked up the pace, and she held her breath.
...to make a mess of me, to see the best in me, for the rest of me, come set me free…
Everything went silent for a moment and Corinne’s heart beat so hard it hit her body with each beat.
...only a woman…
His voice was low, almost hoarse, quiet. Heartbreaking. Her knees weakened, her chin trembled and her heart thundered louder than everything but his words.
...only you…
...my saving grace...
Grace. Saving Grace. Her. No, more than that. Us.
She blotted tears from her eyes. He was exactly everything that she wanted and whatever came with him would be something they could do together, and this time she was determined to let him.
Jonah pointed, walking toward the edge of the curtain, but Corinne held him back. “We have to wait.”
Chris laughed between songs and shuffled his feet. He shifted his weight.
“So, I sometimes work with Lita James. You might know who she is.”
The crowd went insane, and even Corinne pressed her hands over her ears.
Lita stood on the opposite side of the stage as Corinne, and Chris’ eyes were trained on Lita. When he looked back toward the audience, Lita waved frantically. “Go out!” she mouthed to Corinne and pointed to Chris.
“Me?” Corinne mouthed back.
Lita grinned and gave her two thumbs up. “GO!”
Corinne patted Jonah’s shoulder with shaking hands and shaking breath and shaking nerves and stepped just to the edge of the curtain. The moment she moved from behind the curtain, everything would change. Everything. It wasn’t a step. It was a leap off a cliff.
“Lita?” Chris asked as he once again stared directly away from Corinne, and at the woman who was supposed to join him.
Corinne could see Lita laugh and shake her head. And then Lita’s two hands pointed at Corinne who took one last breath before taking the enormous step that put her under the stage lights.
My new life starts now.
Chris turned from Lita and froze. Everything that had happened between him and Corinne passed in that brief second—the first meeting and him standing on her porch and holding her, kissing her, laughing with Jonah, offering his life, his love…
Nothing in his body worked. He could only stare at the impossibility of it. Corinne closed the distance between them and wrapped her arms around his neck. Her smell. The feel of her…
“You’re here. You’re here. How are you here?” he asked as his arms wrapped around her familiar body.
“I want you,” she answered. “And I’m about to blur the lines in a big, big, big way.”
“Blur—”
But her mouth was on his and the crowd was beyond insane with catcalls and clapping and screaming. He lifted her off the ground, holding her as tightly as he could and just feeling. Everything came back to her.
When he pulled away, he slid his hand down her arm and laced their fingers together.
“This is my songwriter.” He laughed a little in disbelief. The weight that had been dragging him down since she’d left disappeared so fast, he was sure hew as flying. “And my friend….” More screaming. “And the love of my life. And the woman, that someday, I’m going to ask to be my wife because I can’t imagine my world without her in it.”
Screams echoed in the stadium, and Chris winced at the noise, grinning at Corinne who did the same.
“And because everyone always asks. All the time. This…” He kissed the side of her head, and held their hands a little higher for the audience to see. “This woman is my saving grace.”
TWENTY NINE
He breathed in the filtered air of the hotel room as he lay in bed—Corinne on one side, Jonah on the other. Jonah’s eyes had finally fallen closed as his small head lay against Chris’ shoulder. He watched Jonah’s body move slowly as he slept.
“Do you ever get tired of just watching him sleep?” Chris whispered.
Corinne’s arm tightened around his waist as she snuggled further onto his chest. “I can’t watch him all night, but I never skip a chance to peek in on him.”
He pressed his lips to her forehead—Corinne on one side, Jonah on the other, and he’d never felt so at home. “I can’t believe you came. That you’re here. That you just… jumped in like you did tonight.”
“Me either.” Her fingers began tracing his side, sending a familiar tingling warmth through him. “But I want you more than I’m afraid… And we’ll work it all out. I’ll let you help this time. Promise.”
“You two feel like everything,” he said. “It feels like I can breathe again.”
She nipped his ear. “So, it’s still good we came.”
“More than good.” Life cha
nging.
“Just think about how different everything would be if you hadn’t decided to come to my house instead of Hawaii.” Her lips found his cheek.
He shrank at the thought. “Just a sec.” Chris shuffled, scooting Jonah a foot away from him on the bed, and sliding the blankets over his small shoulders. Jonah immediately shifted and lay on his side, facing the wall.
Chris turned back around, slipping his arm over Corinne’s waist and pulling her toward him. “I’m at this weird point in my life where I don’t want anything to change. You’re here, Jonah’s here, I’m doing my music my way. Albums are selling, tickets are sold out… For the first time I can honestly say I have no regrets.”
“How’s that?” she asked.
“Because even the bad decisions, put me on a path that led to you. Those bad decisions led me to my lowest point, which led me to leave the band, which gave me a chance to go to rehab, which made me need a songwriter, and she helped me remember what family feels like, and showed me the kind of life I didn’t know I needed. A woman I’m insane for. A little boy I love with a fierceness I can’t explain.” He scooted forward until his nose touched hers. “And this feels perfect. So, maybe if I hadn’t done some of the dumb things, I wouldn’t have done some of the smart things.”
She ran her hand up his arm. The only hands he wanted on him this way. Ever. And slid her fingers through his, pressing their palms together.
He could feel her heart beat in her chest and where their wrists touched. Felt the warmth of her thighs resting against his, her feet touching his ankles… In so many ways this relaxed touch more intimate than anything else.
“I love you, Chris.”
Every word printed on him and he slid his lips over hers. “I love you.”
Her lips found his again, and he could feel her smile. “Where are we tomorrow?”
“Paris.”
“And the day after?”
“Paris until that night, and then Monte Carlo.”
“And then where?”
“I don’t know,” he answered. “I can’t remember.”
“You know what?” she asked.