by J. Saman
I drive to the airport on autopilot, my mind lost and my chest empty.
And when I’m seated on the plane and the engine begins to hum and the doors are closing, locking me in tight, I tell myself that this is not the last time I’m going to see Lyric Rose. That this is not the way we end. That at some point, I’ll have one more chance with her. One more chance. That’s all I need.
Chapter 19
Lyric
* * *
Present Day
* * *
“For the record, I think this is a mistake,” Cass tells me as I walk through the baggage area at JFK.
“You’re a lawyer, Cass. You think everything is a mistake.”
“Not true. I fully supported you taking over after Robert died.”
My eyes reflexively scroll through the crowds searching for John, my father’s driver. “I need to do this.”
“I agree, but did it have to happen on his terms? Why couldn’t he come to you?”
I sigh, inwardly shaking my head. “Because his father had a stroke. And I was coming here anyway. I just made my flight two days earlier. That’s all.”
“It’s not your place to run to his bedside or comfort his son.”
I roll my eyes, knowing even in my own head that I’m using sarcasm and annoyance as a diversionary tactic. “Thanks, bitch. Not sure how I missed that one. Thank God I have you to keep me in check.”
A loud burst of air puffs into the phone. “I don’t want him to plow another hole through you. It took over a year before you even considered talking to another guy. Nearly two before you slept with one. None of them makes it longer than a month. Two tops. Jameson is your dark spot. The one you’ve compared everyone to and when they automatically fail to live up to your memory of the bastard, you give up.”
I realize I’ve stopped walking. Stopped searching for John. I’m just standing here, frozen in time and space. “I can’t move on until I do this, Cass,” I whisper after a quiet moment. “I’ve tried. I really genuinely have, but I never got any closure. I need to finish what’s always felt unfinished.”
“I know,” she says the words slowly, softly. “Just…do it quickly and then leave. Come back to California. I miss you. Ben and Josh miss you. Ben keeps asking when you’re going to come over and play with him. You blow through here too fast lately.”
I love California. I love my life there and the Malibu house. I love Cass’s husband Josh and their son, Ben. Yes, Cass decided she was more into team penis than team vagina after all. I love Ethan, my rock, the man who has been there for me through everything and then some. And I love the record company I inherited when Robert died of cancer four months ago.
I owe it to him to continue what we had been building over the last few years.
“I will,” I promise her. “I’ll be back soon and I won’t lose my head or my heart this time. I’m going in with my eyes open.”
“And your legs closed,” she says and I laugh.
“And my legs closed. At least where Jameson Woods the Third is concerned. I gotta go, Cass. I think I see John lurking over by the revolving wheel of bags.”
“Okay. You better call me after you see the asshole. I’ll talk Ethan off the ledge. I think he’s taking the idea of you seeing Jameson harder than I am.”
I would laugh at that if it wasn’t so goddamn sad. “Thanks, babe. Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
I tuck my phone back into my oversized purse and meander my way through the anxiously waiting people over to the tall bear that I love so much. “Ah,” John says with a broad smile. “I was just starting to wonder if you’d had a change of heart.”
More times than I can even begin to count. “Nope.” I hug him tightly, expelling every last ounce of comfort I can without being creepy. “Thanks for coming to scoop me. Any chance you can drop me at Blue Elephant? I’m supposed to meet Melody there for dinner.”
“Sure. I bet she’s happy to get out of the house without the baby. Should I bring your stuff to your parent’s house or are you staying somewhere else?”
“I’m staying with them,” I say with a smile that I do not feel. I haven’t told my parents why I’m here. Honestly, other than the concern for potential homicide charges against my father if he knew Jameson was in town, there isn’t anything to tell them. This is going to be a quick trip. A fly-by-night sort of gig. I’m going to see Jameson’s father, because I do care for that man even though I haven’t seen him in a while, and at some point, I’ll meet up with Jameson, in a very safe, neutral place and tell him that he can never contact me again. That what we had all those years ago is over.
And once I’ve looked him in the eyes and told him that, I’ll be able to move on with my life. I’ll know unequivocally that he’s my past and not my future. Four years is too long to be hung up on the guy you hung up on. On the guy who never called you back. On the guy who threw you away like you were nothing to him after you had given every piece of yourself that ever meant anything to you.
I’m silent in the car. Contemplative. Nervous. My phone rings in my purse as we get to the outskirts of town and I smile indulgently when I see it’s Melody. “Am I eating dinner alone tonight?”
She laughs. “No. I’m just like, I don’t know, fifteen minutes behind. Max just wouldn’t get off my boobs and now I smell like breastmilk and I think I might even have some on my pants. I need a quick shower and then I’ll leave.”
“Okay. I’m about ten minutes from the restaurant. Do you want me to order you something or wait?”
“Oh God,” she moans. “Something alcoholic, please. I’ll pump and dump. I don’t even care if it’s like throwing out liquid gold. I haven’t had any alcohol in almost a year.”
“And my beautiful nephew thanks you for it. But I believe I heard somewhere that if you don’t feel the effects of alcohol, the baby won’t either.”
Melody snorts into the phone. “A thousand says that sage, non-scientifically founded advice came from Cass.”
“Yup,” I pop the p. “And Ben has all of his fingers and toes, one head and is already speaking in three-word sentences.”
“Well, I’ll still dump anyway. One can never be too careful. See you in a bit.”
John pulls up in front of the chic Thai restaurant. I wave him off when he tries to get out to open the door for me. “Call me if you need me to pick you up later.”
I shake my head. “I’ll either Uber or have Mel drop me. You’ve already done enough for me tonight.” I blow him a kiss and scurry out of the car before the coddling, overprotective man can argue with me.
Stepping inside the restaurant, I breathe in the enticingly spicy scent of garlic and peanuts. Dim lighting accented with the soft flicker of candlelight and crystal sconces set an intimate and slightly romantic tone. There’s a soft, hypnotic beat in the background and the bar off to my right is overly packed with after-work drinkers.
“May I help you?” the hostess asks with a pleasant smile.
“Yes.” I step forward and around a couple who are perusing the menu. “I believe my sister made a reservation. Melody Diaz.”
She lifts up her tablet, scrolls down the page and then nods. “Your table is ready if you’d like to sit, or you can wait in the bar for the rest of your party to arrive.”
I glance over at the bar again, contemplating the choice. There is barely any room to stand over there so I say, “I think I’ll sit, please.”
“Sure. Right this way.”
I follow her through the labyrinth of tables towards the back where she stops at a small two-person table. I sit down, taking my menu from her and wait on Melody, who better hurry up because my stomach is starting to growl. Someone comes over and fills my glass with water and immediately after thanking them, my eyes return to the menu. I’m reading through the various appetizers when I feel it. The hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention. My stomach swooshes in that familiar and forgotten way. Electricity hums in my blood.
; Setting the menu down flat against my unnecessary place setting, my eyes slowly, reluctantly rise. Black shoes. Black slacks. White button-down that’s barely able to hide the muscular definition beneath. Open collar. Smooth chiseled jaw. Hint of a dimple. Cocky smirk. Wolfish pale blue eyes. Ink black hair.
I blink. And blink once more, but it does nothing to expel him from my sightline. To delete the man I was not yet ready to see, walking steadily, confidently, toward me. Four years and not much has changed other than the length of his hair, which is shorter and more styled. He’s still unmistakably the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen. My heart thrums wildly in my chest. My hands tremble in my lap. My stomach flutters to a nauseating degree.
The hostess, whom I haven’t even noticed, waves her hand in an exaggerated fashion for him to sit and once he smoothly slides into the seat directly across from me, she hands him his menu with a flourish, telling him that if he needs anything not to hesitate to ask her. As I pull my eyes away from his, scanning the restaurant for the traitor I affectionally refer to as a sister, I notice that every ovary-carrying woman in this place is feasting on him with interest. Even the women whose ovaries have been closed for business for decades.
Melody is not here. Because Melody is not coming. “I wondered how you got my number,” I muse aloud, impressed by how calm and composed I am, considering I’m the total and complete opposite. “Good thing I didn’t go with the scorpion bowl for two.”
Jameson grins, his finger running across his lower lip and I cannot stand that I just fell for that bait and looked. It didn’t even take you one minute, Lyric. “I was concerned you might not forgive her, but she reminded me that you’re her baby sister and the godmother of her son, and that forgiveness is in your blood.” He leans forward, pinning me with those magnetic baby blues of his. “It’s what I’m counting on actually.”
I shake my head and lean back in my seat. No. Just no. Like no motherfucking way, no. “Can I get you anything to drink?” the waiter, who picked either the best time or the worst time to approach us, asks.
“The lady will have the scorpion bowl for two and I’ll have a vodka gimlet.”
The waiter doesn’t even flinch. He nods his head and tells us he’ll be right back with our drinks and to go over the specials.
“What the hell are you doing?” I ask, because I have to. I’m ambushed and I don’t like the feeling that comes with that.
“I’m having dinner with you, Lee–”
“Don’t,” I snap so quickly I surprise even myself. Evidently, I am not going to be playing it cool tonight. “Do not call me Lee.”
He’s completely unaffected and undeterred. “I’m having dinner with you, Lyric. I told you over the phone that I wanted to talk to you and this is the perfect place to do that.”
I want to cry. The urge comes over me, burning like acid in my eyes and I hate it. I thought I was so much stronger. I swallow. Hard. Ignore the way he watches my throat move as I do, and say, “Say whatever it is you want to say and then go.”
Our goddamn intrusive waiter returns with our drinks—mine has two straws, more sliced fruit than is socially appropriate for garnish and is in the most ridiculous Moana-esque South Pacific ceramic bowl. And before you judge, Ben—one of my godchildren—loves that freaking movie.
The waiter starts to go over the specials with an enthusiasm typically reserved for clowns at small children’s birthday parties. I have no patience for this right now. Like none.
Jameson interrupts our waiter’s rant and orders for both of us. The most infuriating part of that? He ordered exactly what I would have ordered for myself. And if I had to pick one dish that he would order for himself, well, naturally it’s the one he went with. I hate that he just did that. I hate that he still knows me well enough to know my goddamn food preferences.
“Who’s the guy?” he asks the moment our waiter is out of earshot.
“Pardon?” I return, my eyebrows furrowing.
“I know you lied when you said you weren’t seeing anyone. You’ve been seeing the same guy for years.”
“What?” I half-laugh incredulously. “Have you taken to smoking crack instead of weed in the last four years?”
Jameson chuckles lightly. “Every time I see your pretty face at the Grammys, when you accept your multiple awards, you always have the same guy on your arm. Tall. Dark blond hair. Hollywood coiffed.”
I burst into a fit of laughter, shaking my head and closing my lips around one of the straws, sucking down a good third of my overly alcoholic beverage. I only know it’s alcoholic because these things are toted to be deadly. But hell, it sure as shit doesn’t taste anything but delicious. “You mean Ethan?” I ask after I swallow down my multiple sips, amusement still dancing on my tongue.
Jameson sits back in his chair, lifting his pale green drink up to his lips and taking a sip. “Ethan?” he echoes, lost in thought, like he’s searching the deepest recesses of his mind for something. “How do I know that name?”
I roll my eyes and cross my arms over my chest, staring him down and begging him to challenge me. “Surely you remember me mentioning my very gay best friend, Ethan. I know it was a few years back, but I thought your memory would be better than this.” Why did I just tell him this? Why didn’t I let him stew? God, I really need to get to the point and get out of here. “Yes, he’s been the main man in my life for the last four years. He’s one of the best people I know.”
His expression grows impossibly dark, his hand rakes through his hair in obvious agitation. He hisses something harsh and inaudible under his breath, but I don’t care enough to try and decode what’s going through his head. His other fist balls up, turning white and ferocious. If I didn’t know this man, I might be afraid he was about to kill someone with the amount of rage boiling under the surface of his not-so-calm exterior. I lean forward, pressing my stomach into the table and leveling this asshole with my most decisive stare. “I have no idea why you wanted to talk to me after so many years, Jameson, and honestly, I don’t care. You wanted a break from me and you got one. So, ask me why I flew all the way out here.”
His eyes return to mine and this is not the same sexy confident man that walked into the restaurant, hellbent on screwing up my world once again. This man looks wrecked. This man looks like he’s just had the crap beaten out of him. I would take some modicum of pleasure in that if this didn’t hurt so much. “Why did you come?” he finally asks, his voice soft and his tone dejected.
“For closure.” His eyes close as he blows out a breath. “It’s something I was never afforded the first go around. And it’s seems to be just what I need. So here it is. I’m going to lay it all out for you. Fuck you for texting me and trying to manipulate me by telling me that your father would want to see me. Fuck you for telling me that you miss me and asking me to come home. Just fuck you. I don’t want to see you again. I don’t want to talk to you again. I’m sorry about your father and I will go see him, because despite who you turned out to be, I still love him.” I take another sip of my drink, practically finishing it off with a loud slurp. I stand up, my legs numb, but my mind oddly focused. He finds me, his eyes scrolling all around my face, my body before they land on my eyes for the last time. “Take care of yourself, Jameson. I wish you every happiness.”
I walk off, leaving him and the heart he broke behind. It’s rebuilding time.
Chapter 20
Lyric
* * *
I tap lightly on the front door, afraid I’m going to wake up Max if I ring or knock too loudly. I may want to bang down the door and demand answers from my sister, but I love my nephew, even if my sister is a first-rate traitor. The door swings open, and instead of it being Melody, it’s José. “Coward,” I mutter under my breath.
He laughs, stepping back and holding the door open for me to pass.
My father bought them a house as a wedding present. Homes in Greenwich are, well, they’re freaking expensive. And José makes good money, but not Gre
enwich money, so my father bought them a house. He talked them into it by saying he gave me the Malibu house, which is worth more than three times what this house is worth.
“She’s upstairs, hiding from you in Max’s room.”
“Why is he still awake?” I ask and José just shrugs.
“He’s two months old, Lyric. Two-month-olds don’t sleep a lot, and just when you think you have them in a schedule, they show you just how wrong you are.”
“Did you know about Jameson? About what Mel did?”
Jose looks away for a beat and then back to me. “She had her reasons for doing what she did. Go up and speak to her. Listen to her.”
I roll my eyes. “Of course, I will, but I’m allowed to be pissed.”
“I take it tonight didn’t go well?” he asks, walking me through the foyer and over to the staircase.
I shake my head. “Nope. It was pretty freaking awful actually.”
“Melody told me he begged her for your number. Like, actually begged.”
“I’m done with him. We were over years ago.”
Jose smirks. “Were you?”
I sigh, placing my hand on the bannister and running my hand against the smooth dark wood. “It doesn’t matter anymore. Coming here was a mistake. Agreeing to this was a mistake. Responding to his stupid text messages when I knew better was a mistake. That’s all I do where Jameson is concerned. Make mistakes.”
“If you really believed that, you wouldn’t be here looking like someone just ran over your iPod with all your music on it. Go upstairs. She’s waiting on you.”
I leave Jose and ascend the steps in a jog, anxious to get to Melody. Because I know my sister, and while right now it feels like she betrayed me with the man who broke my heart, I appreciate that there’s more to this story. Walking down the hall, I press my hand into the closed door of Max’s room.