A Light at Winter’s End
Page 32
“Holly!”
She turned; Quincy was there in a red suit, grinning from ear to ear. “Can you believe this? Look around, Holly—these people love your song. Come on, let’s get pictures,” he said, and put his arm around her waist, dragging her to a spot on the red carpet. The flashes of the bulbs blinded her and she wished again that Wyatt was here to see this. Who would have believed it? Who would have guessed Holly Fisher would be standing on a red carpet?
And yet, she felt so hollow.
When at last she got inside, she made straight for the bar and asked for a glass of wine. Holly hadn’t drunk since Hannah came home. She hadn’t wanted it around Hannah, having seen what alcohol had done to her sister. But tonight she needed something to take the edge off her nerves and her sadness.
“Holly Fisher, right?” a man said, sticking his hand out. “Mark Vaughan. I’m with RCA records. Love your song,” he said, pumping her arm. “Who’s your manager? Grif Lewis, right? I’d like to talk to him. Maybe we can collaborate on a couple of projects I’ve got in mind.”
“Sounds great,” she said.
“This is your night,” Mark said. “Can’t wait to hear Quincy perform.”
Holly smiled. She was thinking of Wyatt on Christmas morning. And how she’d performed for him, an audience of one. She was thinking of the expression on his face, and how she’d known he loved her by the look in his eyes. How she wished he was here! She looked around for him, her hope surviving on a weak pulse, but of course she didn’t see him.
There was dancing, and an elaborate buffet with an ice sculpture in the shape of a guitar, which Holly gazed at, wondering how on earth they had carved it. She wandered about, talked to some new acquaintances, and was introduced to a dizzying number of people by her manager.
An hour or so later, Quincy took the stage.
“Thank you all for coming!” he said to the crowd. “I know what you want to hear, and I am going to get right to it. A special shout-out to Holly Fisher, who wrote this song for me,” he said, and strummed the first chords.
“No,” Holly muttered to herself. “I didn’t write it for you.”
He began to play; Holly sighed and turned around.
She saw him then. He was standing with one arm on the bar, watching her. Wyatt’s gaze slid over her, lingering on her décolletage, on her legs, and Holly’s heart started to beat. He was wearing a tux coat and shirt, jeans, and highly polished boots. His black hair was slicked back and in a little tail. He was clean-shaven and his eyes, his blue eyes, were as penetrating as ever. There was not a sexier man in attendance.
Holly was frozen in place. People were moving past her, trying to get closer to the stage, but she was mesmerized. She couldn’t believe her eyes. He’d come. He was really here.
Wyatt pushed away from the bar and walked toward her, his head down, his gaze locked on hers. He stopped just before her. “You look like a million dollars, baby. You look like a star.”
“You came,” she said breathlessly.
His gaze slipped to her cleavage. “You said you needed me. And you sent me a pass.”
Holly drew a shallow breath. “I didn’t think you’d come.”
“I almost didn’t,” he said, his gaze dipping lower.
“Wyatt … I don’t know how to apologize. I want to apologize in a big spectacular way and beg you to forgive me but I don’t know how to do that.”
“No need. I forgive you,” he said, and lifted his gaze to hers.
“Just like that?”
He smiled a little. “I had to think about it. But I’ve missed you, Holly.”
She couldn’t take her eyes from his. She couldn’t speak. A million thoughts rushed through her head, the first and foremost that she loved him.
He moved closer. “All right, then, you said you needed me. So, what is it you need?”
“You,” she blurted roughly. “I need you, Wyatt. I need you like I’ve never needed anyone or anything. More than Mason. More than music. I need you more than that.”
“If you need me more than that,” he said calmly, his gaze now on her mouth, “why did it take you so damn long to say it?” He slipped his hand behind her neck, tilting her face up to his. “Why did it take you more than a month to reach out?”
“Because … I was afraid to hear that you might not need me. And I wouldn’t blame you. I mean, really, you’ve had firsthand experience with how flaky I can be …”
“I like flaky,” he said, and kissed the corner of her mouth.
She wrapped her hand around his wrist. “I’m sorry, Wyatt. I am so sorry. I was so stupid … You were the best thing that had ever happened to me, and I was babbling about all these issues—”
“Legitimate issues.” He kissed the other side of her mouth.
“Legitimate, I don’t know. Now that time has passed and I know that Mason is okay, I look back and think, Why? What was happening to me? And I think maybe I was really afraid of losing you, too, and I wouldn’t be able to bear that, not with everything else, and then there was Grace, and how would she feel without Mason—”
“I get it,” he said with a slight grin, and kissed her on the mouth. His hand found her bare thigh. “Do you have any idea how much I’ve missed you?” he murmured in her ear.
“Yes,” she said, nodding adamantly. She was vaguely aware of Quincy singing the refrain: She was his lover and his friend / She was his light at winter’s end. “I know exactly how much.”
Wyatt moved closer, slipping his arm around her waist. “I am going to lay down the law here and now, Holly Fisher. I don’t ever want to miss you like that again. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes,” she said. “Perfectly.”
“And if I want to be understanding, you’re just going to let me.”
She couldn’t help smiling. “You can understand as much as you want. Or not at all.”
“And you’re going to be part of Grace’s and my family, and I am going to be part of yours and Mason’s, and we’ll build our own hodgepodge of family. Got it?”
“Got it,” Holly said smiling. “I love you, Wyatt.”
“Maybe as much as I love you,” Wyatt said, and started to sway with her.
She was his lover and his friend, / She was his light at winter’s end …
“One last thing,” he said, and kissed her neck. “The moment this song is over, and you hear the crowd roar for your song, and you bask in the knowledge that you did it, that you wrote a hit song, and that you’re a damn good songwriter, we’re getting the hell out of here to make up for the time you’ve cost us. Right?”
Oh yes. Yes, yes, yes. “Right,” she said, giggling.
Wyatt pressed his cheek to hers, dancing with her.
Maybe, Holly thought as they slowly danced to the melody she’d created, she and Wyatt would have a dozen little Masons to run around with Grace on their little ranch. The two of them and a bunch of little kids, a couple of dogs, and songs running around in her head. She could think of nothing better in life than that.
Contentment. In a state of peaceful happiness. As in, at the end of winter, they found the contentment they deserved.
Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
> Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Back Cover