by Susan Ward
“Uh-huh. Though I’m sure it has something more to do with you than me. He’s probably trying to be equitable since Grandpa Jack gave you Lily to have when you left rehab.”
I laugh. “The Gibson’s nice but it ain’t Lily.”
Ethan grimaces. “God, you’re competitive over everything. Fine, Eric. You got the better legacy instrument.”
“Legacy? Yeah, I’m a great fucking legacy. You, little brother, are the one who’s going to reach epic greatness like Dad and Jack. Maybe that’s why Dad’s finally passing down his instruments to you.”
Ethan’s expression turns serious. “What’s going on, Eric?”
I tense. Exhaling, I decide it’s stupid to pretend there’s nothing. “I had this great fucking day with Willow. Showed her the apartment. Started a bit rocky. Don’t know why. Then it was good. Real good. And she went home at seven and her last words to me were I’ll call you in the morning.”
“Oh.”
I nod, and his eyes mirror that I don’t need to explain further. “It feels like I take a step forward with her, hit walls I don’t see coming, then it’s wait and see again. Only I don’t know what the fuck I’m waiting for. It’s unsettling. Why can’t things just be good when they are? What’s with all the starts and stops? It’s fucking driving me crazy trying to figure out where she is with us.”
Ethan leans forward, elbows on knees. “Chill, it’s been a week.”
“It’s not been a week,” I say, frustrated. “We have a longer history than that.”
He purses his lips. “It’s been a week for her.”
“Don’t make me sound like I’m being unreasonable. Is it too much to want a clear idea of where we’re going?”
“Yeah, it is,” he says, causing me to glare.
“She feels the same way I do. I know she does.”
Ethan shakes his head at me. “You know what your problem is? When you decide something, you go after it hard. You don’t see anything else. You block out everything except what you want and can’t see the bigger picture. Not everyone’s like that.”
“Willow used to be. It’s why we clicked into place so fast after the first time we met. We both go after what we want, no hesitation.”
“And you’re thinking that if she’s hesitating it’s not going to work out the way you want it?”
Having it put that way makes me sound ridiculous, but I nod.
“Eric, slow down and breathe for once. You’re living in the minute these days. But women—well, most of them I know—they live in the past, present, and future simultaneously.”
I grimace. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“Just because you’re ready to move on from your past together doesn’t mean she is. Don’t push so hard, dude. Things come easier when you don’t push so hard.”
“Oh dear! Am I interrupting something I shouldn’t hear? If you want to give your brother more sex advice, E, I can come back later.”
We both turn our heads to find Avery watching us from the doorway. I groan, but Ethan laughs.
“Relationship advice. I’m pretty sure Eric doesn’t need advice on sex, babe. You get Noah asleep?”
“Yes, and even in his crib for a change.” She settles on the arm of Ethan’s chair and looks at me. “What were you two talking about?”
“How I’m screwing things up with Willow again,” I admit.
“Nah,” Ethan says heavily. “He’s not screwing things up and he’s just whining because things didn’t work out the way he wanted them to tonight. He’s stuck hanging out with us. Willow decided she had other things to do instead of Eric.”
“Oh.” Avery smiles.
My brows crinkle. “What kind of moral support is that? Oh is not a very supportive comment.”
She makes a quirky expression. “Oh means Ethan’s right. Things do come easier if you don’t push so hard.”
My brother places a sloppy kiss on her face. “It’s epic that we think the same way.”
“Do we think enough the same way that you’re going to tell me next that you’ve already ordered dinner for us to have in the room? We’re not going out, not after getting Noah asleep.”
Ethan grimaces. “No. Didn’t order dinner. I forgot what I was supposed to do talking with Eric.”
She groans. “Hand me the phone. I’ll order. Eric, are you staying?”
AFTER DINNER, WE TALK about booking the studio tomorrow and spending the day together there, then I take off for my own suite down the hall from theirs.
It’s quiet inside. Hank must have gone to bed. I’m still feeling kind of restless but not as badly as I was when I showed up on Ethan’s doorstep.
It confirms what I already suspected: that I haven’t lost the need for routines and schedules in my life, and Willow being the only thing on my recovery plan isn’t a wise move. She’s all I think about. I don’t doubt we’re ending up together, but it’s not good having us be my sole focus.
After stripping, I climb into bed. I stare at the phone, wanting to shoot her a good-night text. Things go easier when you don’t push so hard. Would a text to let her know I’m thinking of her be pushing too hard?
Fuck, who knows?
I’m a novice at this.
Healthy, sober relationships.
Times together.
Times apart.
A woman who has her shit together and her own life.
Clinging sycophants wanting to be with me every second are more in my wheelhouse.
This is new.
It’s going to take some adjusting.
After switching off the light, I lie back and stare at the ceiling. I don’t want girls like that ever again. Girls I don’t have to work to have, girls who are all about me, girls who always put me first, girls I never loved…girls who could never be Willow.
It’s maddening she sent me home. It’s also really hot and sexy. Fuck, it makes a woman crazy hot when they show you the door.
WE’VE BEEN IN THE recording studio two hours, it’s almost noon, and Willow hasn’t called. Last night’s mental pep talk is rapidly disintegrating. What’s going on with her?
We’re sitting on the floor with our instruments in our hands. I try to focus on what Ethan’s strumming on his guitar. “Play that again. I like how you switched it up.”
“This?” He does it and I commit it to memory.
“Yeah, your variation’s better than the bridge I had there.”
“I think so, too. Yours didn’t work as well.”
“Cocky little shit these days, aren’t you?”
Ethan laughs. “What can I say? Two releases that have gone platinum this year. I must be doing something right.”
“Brother, you’re doing everything right. Avery. Noah. Your career. Seeing how it’s worked out for you, I’m thinking I’m going to stay indie after I get home. Do my own shit my own way.”
“Don’t need a label. Don’t need to be on the road. Not anymore, that’s for sure. You going to have Dad produce for you when you get home?”
I lean back against the wall. “You think I should?”
“Keeping it all about family makes it easier to be a family man,” he says heavily.
“Fuck, that’s deep. Who’d you rip that one off from?”
He shrugs. “Grandpa Jack. In his what comes next after your band breaks up advice series.”
My eyes widen. “Haven’t heard that one before. What other advice did he give you?”
“That it’s not about the band or the fame or the crowds. To just keep playing wherever and with whoever you can. That’s when music becomes who you are instead of what you do and is your friend instead of your enemy. And the pieces of your life will fit together the way they should.”
“Yeah, that sounds like him.”
“He’s right, Eric. Being off the road. Me and Avery doing everything in our life together. It’s good. It works.”
“Sounds better t
han good to me. It’s sort of like how I’ve lived with Willow the past two months. Doing my music in front of her bar.”
“Your own variation on Jack’s advice and you didn’t even know it.” Smiling, Ethan springs onto his feet. “You ready to bounce that down?”
My phone trills.
Finally.
“Give me a minute. I’ve got to take this.”
“Willow?”
I nod.
“Play it cool, Eric. Let it ring three times before you answer it,” he says from across the room.
Probably the right advice, but the second he’s out of the door, I swipe on my phone.
Chapter Thirty-One
Willow
“THE APARTMENT’S AVAILABLE immediately,” I say, smiling.
Mr. and Mrs. Latest Applicant nod. I like them; they seem like a nice couple. If I’ve got to let someone live in here—and my bank balance confirms that I do—it wouldn’t be so bad if it were them.
The husband glances down at the info sheet I wrote up last night before posting my online ad, and the wife’s gaze roams the apartment, settling on the long line of windows in the living room.
“I plan to get window coverings before the new tenant moves in,” I assure her. “I just haven’t had time yet. And my bedroom still has be cleaned out and painted. I wasn’t expecting the response I’ve gotten or to be showing the apartment this soon.”
“Lot of calls?” she asks.
“More than I can get through.”
“Apartments this large and nice are hard to find in Capitol Hill,” she announces, and I know that they want it.
My eyes stray to the spot on the floor where Eric and I made love last night. I take several deep breaths and push the memories away. I’ve been waiting since he dropped me off last night for something from him, a call or a text. Nothing.
“You plan to make a decision this week?” the husband asks.
“What? Sorry,” I mutter, preoccupied because my phone just dinged.
The man smiles. “We’ll hear either way this week if we fill out an application?”
I look up from my phone. “Yes.”
“Can we make one last walk through?” she asks.
“Yes, go ahead.”
The second they’re out of the living room I swipe on my phone. Shit, Jade.
Jade: Want to have lunch today?
I type back quickly.
Me: Can’t. I’m swamped.
As my cell darkens I stare at my phone. Oh, Eric. Why haven’t you texted me today? He’s so damn frustrating. Just when I think I’ve figured him out, everything changes. Yesterday asking if I was considering him as the man in my life, and today nothing.
Maybe it’s finally sunk in—he’s done with his amends to me, and it’s as I suspected: he’s considering all the options in his life. Staying in Seattle, me, his home and daughter. His silence today confirms my suspicion that he hasn’t thought through completely what a relationship between us will be.
It’s good I put the brakes on us last night and gave us both a chance to step back and think about things. Running away with our emotions has never worked out well for us. Slow, deliberate steps seemed more prudent. But I didn’t anticipate no steps. Complete silence from his end. Me dangling.
I shake my head at the screen before I shove my phone back into my pocket.
“You doing OK, girl?”
I turn to find Ivy standing in the open doorway.
“Sure. Great. I can’t believe how many calls I’ve gotten on this place.”
“Why not? It’s a beautiful apartment now. If I could afford it, hell, I’d apply to rent it.”
I laugh. “Don’t think I didn’t consider last night moving in here myself before I posted the rental ad. It’s more than a little tempting to move on from my past with Dean and make a fresh start here. No more morning commute. No more walking to the parking lot at night alone. But I can’t get as much for my house as I can for this place. Renting it out is my only option.”
Ivy pouts. “Not your only option.”
That’s said in a way that leaves little doubt what she’s thinking, but I’m not ready yet to be as optimistic about Eric and me as Ivy apparently is.
“You got time to have lunch with me or have you got something else going?” She smiles up at me warmly and I flush. “I made pastrami on rye. It’s in the kitchen. There’s enough for two if you want to join me.”
“Let me finish up with the applicants and I’ll be right down,” I say with a bright smile and heavy heart. Brushing off Ivy the way I did Jade seems a silly thing to do. I haven’t got anything planned with Eric, but I expected to. That’s the truth. It’s unsettling.
I march briskly down the hallway and pause in the entry for the master bedroom, I hope inconspicuously because it feels like I’m stepping in on a happy-couple moment. Christ, they look so happy at the thought of living here. If smiles were the only criteria to weigh in selecting my new tenants this place would be theirs.
“Have you made up your mind?” I interrupt as they talk quietly.
The woman nods as her husband slips an arm around her. “It’s a little out of our budget, but we’d like to apply.”
“Good. Everything you need is in the packet. The online link for the application and the waiver to run your credit report.”
“And you’ll tell us this week?” she asks hopefully.
“No later than Friday. I promise you.”
I show them out of the building, then close the security entrance for the stairs. As I make my way to the kitchen to find Ivy, the reality is hitting home. I never thought about how it would feel to me having someone else in the apartment. Eric said he did everything with his own hands for me. It’s like a gift I can’t keep, and that reminds me of how we’d been before.
Seven years ago, he’d been a gift I wasn’t allowed to keep. He’d belonged to Tara and a whole bunch of things I had no place in. Being divorced now hasn’t changed any of that. He still belongs to a whole bunch of things I have no place in. Maybe that’s why he keeps everything between us so vague. Man in my life? I don’t even know what that means to him.
With a sinking heart, I drop onto a stool in the kitchen as Ivy finishes loading up our plates.
“What’s wrong, Willow?”
Of course it’s obvious to her that I’m troubled by something and she’d jump right into it the second we’re alone.
“Eric hasn’t called me today.”
“Then call him.”
I crinkle my nose. “He’s probably busy.”
“Or not. Wouldn’t it be smarter just to see?” She sets my plate in front of me and settles on her chair.
I fiddle with my sandwich as I study her. “You seem to know more about him than I do. I don’t even know what he’s planning now that he’s finished with the apartment. Is he going back to California? Planning to try to revive his career? His daughter’s there. He can’t be staying long in Seattle, now can he?”
Ivy pauses with her sandwich halfway to her mouth. “Why don’t you ask him?”
“I’d rather ask you.”
Ivy raises her eyebrows. “I’m not his life coach, Willow. I’m his sponsor. And even if I knew his thoughts on any of that, I wouldn’t tell you.”
“Why’s that? You had no problem interfering in things before” I say, pretending indifference.
“You’re right. I’m a terrible friend. I’m working at being a better one.”
I roll my eyes at her. “You’re a great friend. Or least you were when you were more loyal to me than to him.”
“I’m not more loyal to him. I just think I need to stay out of this.”
I grimace. She’s right. I’m acting like a teenage girl, pumping my bestie for the 411, scrambling not to make a move that will get me hurt, when I should just go to the source.
“There’s so much about him that I don’t know. What does he do in Seatt
le now that he’s not in front of Mel’s?”
“Who knows? Guys always find something to occupy themselves with when they’re on their own.”
I blink. What do I say to that? Is she suggesting if I continue being cautious and slow he’s going to move on to someone new?
Ivy sets her pastrami on her plate and leans back. “I don’t know if I should tell you this, but there was a guy out front of Mel’s taking pictures this morning. He came into the bar and tried to ask me questions about you. I’m not sure, but I think he was a reporter. You might want to talk to Eric about this.”
“A reporter?” My mouth drops. “You’re joking, right, Ivy?”
She shakes her head. “Eric was afraid this would happen if anyone knew he was here. You’re his girlfriend. He’s a story. I don’t think we’ve seen our last reporter looking for an inside scoop.”
All the news posts I read about Eric flash in my head. I drop my face into my hands and groan. “I’m not his girlfriend. I’m not his anything.”
“Sounds like a personal problem to me. I would have thought by now you’d be something.”
Only we’re not. That’s the problem. I don’t know what we’re doing. Lifting my face, I flash her a heated stare. “Don’t talk to anyone, Ivy. Ignore them.”
“That’s what I did. But I still think you should discuss this with Eric.”
“I plan to.”
“You want some more potato salad?”
“No.”
She grabs our plates, and as she takes them to the sink I pull out my phone. Continued silence between us doesn’t seem wise, and with the reporter newsflash my calling him is necessary.
My romantic inner me beams with delight, since she wasn’t fully onboard with the stalemate I started before he dropped me off in an attempt not to appear too forward with him. She wanted to invite him in for the night. But it was rational Willow inside my head I listened to, not lovestruck Willow who creates all my problems.
I tap his contact number and lean back in my chair as the rings fill my ear through my Bluetooth. My arms are tightly crossed by the second ring.
“Hey, beautiful, what are you doing?”
The sound of his voice is like a rush of warmth because he sounds happy to hear from me and I exhale, feeling my emotions calm. “Been busy all morning. Posted an ad for the apartment last night and I can’t keep up with the response. I’ve been showing it since early morning. Just got a break to grab lunch with Ivy. Thought I’d see what you’re doing.”