Aria (Duet Series Book 1)

by Jennifer Hartmann

  “Me, too,” he said. “I know what I said yesterday, but I don’t want to lose you.”

  She hesitated. Was that it? They had both screwed up so bad it made them… okay? Is that what Chelsie wanted? For them to be okay?

  The stream of the shower from the second floor sounded louder. She pictured Noah standing beneath the hot jets, washing her away.

  She had nowhere else to go.

  “Take me home,” Chelsie said, her voice flimsy and frail.

  And he did.

  17 Chapter Seventeen

  The following week had passed by in a whirlwind with reporters, lawyers, detectives, photographers, media, and security. Chelsie Combs had become an instant celebrity – she was a victim to some, a role model to others, and a liability to the higher-ups in the industry. She hadn’t left the condo without her sunglasses and oversized sweaters for as much anonymity as possible. It was exhausting.

  Chelsie and Devon had fallen into a new routine. Things were different between them. There were no late nights on the couch with popcorn and Netflix binges. There hadn’t been any stolen glances or romantic gestures or passionate lovemaking.

  They weren’t quarreling either. No arguing or heated words. Their arrangement was… stale. Boring. Exactly that – an arrangement. Chelsie hadn’t seen Devon much that week due to his band schedule. They had two shows and three separate practices to prepare for the Grammy’s. To say Chelsie had been on edge was an understatement. Ian was still out there unaccounted for. She kept her phone attached to her, just in case she received that call – the call that assured her Ian was off the streets and could no longer hurt her.

  Devon had installed a high-tech security system and added more locks and deadbolts to the door. A security guard was on site of the complex 24/7. It was a relief to have the added protection. Yet, nothing seemed to erase the constant paranoia. To Chelsie, Ian was always there, peeking in her windows and whispering in her ear. He lived in the tiny hairs on her arms that rose to attention when she heard an unfamiliar sound. Perhaps, he would always live there.

  Then there was Noah. Things had not been the same between them either. How could they? Chelsie had only seen him once that week at one of the shows they had played in New Jersey. The whole band seemed disjointed and distant from one another. Devon barely spoke, which set the tone for the rest of the members. Their performance had been muddy and amateur. There was little communication. Chelsie stood behind stage with Lisa and couldn’t help the overwhelming feeling that it was all her fault.

  “Don’t you dare blame yourself, Chelsie,” Lisa had told her, linking her fingers in with hers, and giving her hand a friendly squeeze. “You’re not responsible for having a psycho ex. You didn’t make Devon do drugs. Don’t do that to yourself.”

  “I just can’t shake this feeling that if I wasn’t in the picture, everything would be okay.”

  Lisa had shaken her head, her red curls bouncing with earnestness. “Nothing would be okay because that’s life. Nothing is ever okay. There is always some kind of battle.”

  Chelsie had tried to take Lisa’s words to heart, but they didn’t quite resonate.

  “Chelsie…” Lisa had said later that night. “Why are you still with Devon?”

  The question had thrown her. Chelsie had never doubted her decision to stay with Devon. She was loyal, despite her drunken indiscretion.

  “Because I have to keep hoping things will get better,” she had replied. “I need to believe the Devon Sawyer I met at The Pit Stop is still in there somewhere.”

  Lisa had shaken her head in a way that had made Chelsie’s skin bristle. “Chels… hope and denial are two different things. Devon isn’t the same guy he was when you started dating. You’re reverting into old patterns. You couldn’t fix Ian and you can’t fix Devon.”

  Chelsie had stiffened against the wall, her eyes inspecting the tips of her fingernails. Lisa had rubbed her back, as if to offer a silent apology for her truth. Chelsie hadn’t thought about it in that way before. She was a nurturer – a hopeful optimist. A lifelong helper. She chose to see the good in people and felt determined to fix their fractured bits when they fell apart. Ian had been a lost cause. There was still hope for Devon.

  Noah had exited the stage after the show, his features etched with disappointment.

  “You did good out there,” Chelsie had told him.

  It was the first contact between them since she’d left his house that fateful morning. There had been no texting, no phone calls, and no offers to babysit Sam. Nothing.

  Regardless, she had wanted him to know that he had done good out there. He always did. It never mattered what demons he was grappling with or what the band was or wasn’t doing – Noah was steadfast in his craft. He plucked away at his guitar strings with accomplished finesse. He rarely faltered, but even when he did, his mistakes still felt like art. And tonight, while the men on stage stumbled and faked their way through the set for their fans, Noah shined. She really wanted him to know that.

  “It was a mess,” Noah had said, pulling his guitar strap over his head. Beads of sweat dripped down his face, and his hair had matted against his forehead. He never quite looked at her that night. Never did his eyes truly see her. Chelsie tried not to let it bother her, but three days had passed by since their brief interaction, and she still carried that weight. She felt like she had lost her best friend.

  Chelsie wanted to shake him. She wanted to pummel her fists against his chest until he saw her. She wanted to scream that what they had was still there – it was just buried beneath the layers of baggage, and dirt, and piss poor decisions. She felt like she was six feet under, and if she just kept digging and clawing, a ray of light would penetrate through the heavy soil. Noah would be waiting for her. Things would go back to the way they used to be, and Chelsie would have her friend back. She would be home.

  Chelsie did not do any of those things. “It wasn’t that bad,” she had replied. It had been a weak response. It didn’t allude to any of the things she was feeling, or to the novel of words on the tip of her tongue. She had bitten down hard on that tongue, as if to punish it for its failure.

  Noah had continued to fiddle with his guitar as the rest of the guys muddled around the small back room. “Well, thanks.”

  That was it. That had been their only correspondence. Devon could not wait to get out of there, so he had guided her out the back door and to his car.

  Chelsie chewed on her fingernail and made a mental note that she needed to get a manicure before the Grammy’s that weekend. She was walking through their local downtown as the brisk January air bit at her nose. She tightened the scarf around her neck while looking in through the storefront windows. Chelsie wanted to clear her head. She had kept herself locked up for the past week because of Ian’s unknown whereabouts, and she was making herself crazy. Even though the air outside was a frigid twenty-two degrees, it was exactly what she needed. Refreshing air. She inhaled big gulps of it as she walked along the sidewalk, dodging small patches of ice along the way.

  Chelsie stopped in her tracks when she came upon a quaint looking hair salon. She peered in through the foggy glass and debated whether she should go inside. Chelsie had been considering a new look for herself – a change. Change was always good.

  Change had saved her life.

  “It’s rude to stare. C’mon inside!”

  Chelsie stumbled back when the door opened, and a middle-aged lady poked her head out. The woman gestured enthusiastically with her arm.

  “Oh, I don’t know. I’m still thinking,” Chelsie explained, stuffing her glove-covered hands inside her coat pockets.

  “Well, you’re not getting any warmer thinking on that side of the glass,” the woman said. “Take a break from the cold and have a cup of coffee!”

  Chelsie smiled in appreciation and nodded her head. “Okay. Thanks.”

  The salon smelled of warm, blow-dried hair and orange honeysuckles. Chelsie breathed in the aroma and began to remo
ve her coat.

  “Here, let me. I’m Lilah.” The dark-haired woman in stylish black suspenders pulled the jacket from her hands and hung it on a nearby hook. “I’ll get you some coffee. Cream and sugar?”

  “Just black, please. Thank you,” Chelsie replied. She looked around the small room. There were two washing stations, two dryers, and four salon chairs – two on each side of the room. Another woman was already tending to a client, chit-chatting about her holiday break. The large sign above the check-in desk read “Bliss Bar”.

  Lilah returned a few moments later with a hot mug of coffee in her hands. It wasn’t one of those disposable cups she had been expecting. “Careful, it’s pipin’ hot,” she warned. “It’s a dark roast. Hope that’s all right.”

  “It’s perfect,” Chelsie said with an appreciate gaze. “You have a cute place here. I’ve never noticed it.”

  “We just opened last month,” Lilah answered, leaning over the waiting area’s coffee table and shuffling through the assortment of magazines. She picked one up and flipped through it, licking her thumb as she plucked over the pages. “This!” Lilah folded the magazine in half and handed it to Chelsie.

  Chelsie glanced over the model with a medium-length angled bob and bangs. It was a bold cut. Chelsie had rarely done anything with her hair. It was remarkably long, ending just before her hip bone. It was all one length with no dimension. The extent of her hair routine was letting it air-dry or pulling it up into a messy bun.

  This haircut looked fierce and sexy. It looked like she wanted to stand out instead of hide.

  “I kind of like it,” Chelsie confessed, the corners of her mouth turning upward. “It’s… different. I think I need different.”

  Lilah gave her a knowing smile. “You’re that girl on the news, huh?”

  Chelsie blinked a few times as she registered the question. “Um, yes. I mean, probably.”

  “You’re dating that musician, right? Imagine Dragons or somethin’?”

  “Freeze Frame,” she corrected with a chuckle. “And yes, that’s right.”

  Lilah clicked her tongue as she removed the magazine from Chelsie’s hands and plopped it down on the table. “I heard about your attack. How are you holdin’ up?”

  Chelsie swallowed and moved her hand to her throat, where a burgundy scarf hid her fading bruises. “It’s been a tough week,” she said.

  “I’ll tell ya what,” Lilah said, placing her hands on her hips. She tilted her head to the side, eyeing Chelsie up and down. “This one is on the house. Tell your friends to come see me and we’ll call it even. You deserve a little pampering.”

  Chelsie’s eyes widened at the offer. “I couldn’t accept that,” she insisted. “That’s very kind of you.”

  “Nonsense. Now, go sit your pretty butt down.”

  Chelsie was not well-versed in accepting favors or handouts. It was as if this woman somehow knew that, though, and took her by the crook of the arm and guided her to the first chair on the left.

  “You have such a pretty face to be hidin’ behind all this hair.”

  Chelsie watched in the mirror as Lilah ran her chocolate brown fingernails through her long, drab locks. She removed her scarf and set it on the small tabletop in front of her. The bruises beneath it stared back at them, boasting their purple and green composition.

  Lilah only glanced at them for a moment. She rested her hands on Chelsie’s shoulders. “Are you ready for a new you?”

  Chelsie couldn’t help the smile that adorned her face. “I’m ready.”

  ***

  It was the night before the Grammy’s and Noah was tuning his Gibson guitar while the guys chain-smoked in between songs. Sean was pacing the room, finalizing details for their very public performance the following evening.

  “You keep fucking up that note,” Devon scolded Miles, a cigarette dangling between his lips. He took a swig from his flask and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “When I sing ‘believe in you’, you’re supposed to play an E.”

  Miles scoffed at him. “I got it.”

  Noah ignored the bickering. He couldn’t wait for the Grammy’s to be over so he could announce his break from the band.

  It had been a daunting decision, but Noah needed to take a step back. He needed a goddamn soul cleanse. The music had been his life, but it wasn’t speaking to him the way it used to. His muse had been bogged down with politics and bitter grudges. Tad and Devon were getting loaded almost every night and the entire band’s integrity was slipping. It was eating at him. Besides, he wanted to spend more quality time with his son. Noah had enough money saved up to take a few months off. They could travel the world together. Maybe a few months was all he needed to find his muse again.

  Then there was Chelsie.

  He had been avoiding her since she’d left his house that morning. He needed to. She had broken his damn heart and she didn’t even know it.

  Noah had been nothing more than a shoulder to cry on – a warm body to escape to. He was stupid to think they would wake up the next morning and their new life would begin. They would be a happy, little family. Noah, Chelsie, and Sam.

  Ridiculous. Chelsie Combs had softened his once cold heart to the point of believing in fairytales. It made him sick.

  His phone buzzed in his pocket and Noah reached in to grab it.

  “Tell Sam I said hi.”

  Noah blinked at the message. It was from Chelsie. He held the phone in his hand for a long time, wondering if he should call her. He wanted to. He wanted to hear her voice. He wanted to tell her how much Sam had missed her – how much he had missed her.

  But they were different now.

  Noah sent her a brief text instead: “Okay.”

  His response was stony, but it had to be. He couldn’t let himself go back to that place of feeling – he would break all over again. He would be carried away to the night she was his – when he fell asleep counting her breaths with the taste of her vanilla chapstick on his lips.

  He couldn’t do that.

  “I gotta go.”

  Noah’s head shot up when he heard Devon’s voice. Devon was staring at his phone, furiously texting something as he put out his cigarette.

  “What the hell, man, this is our last practice,” Miles said.

  Devon threw on his coat. “I have to take care of something.”

  “Shit,” Tad muttered under his breath.

  “I guess that’s a wrap for tonight,” Sean lamented. “Let’s try to squeeze in an early morning practice. I’m still not feeling confident.”

  Noah packed up his guitar. “Sounds good. See you assholes tomorrow.”

  He wasn’t much for conversation these days. He wanted to do his job and get out. He hated that his music had become a job.

  That’s how Noah knew it was time to step away.

  ***

  Chelsie had woken up that morning with a bounce in her step.

  She was going to the Grammy’s.

  The only thing that would make the day better is if she received that phone call telling her Ian was in custody. Until then, his shadow loomed over her like an ominous rain cloud.

  Devon had been up first that morning. Chelsie wondered if he had slept at all that night. She recalled his pacing feet around their bed and the glow of his cell phone brightening the room at all hours. He was fidgety and restless. She wondered if it was nerves or drugs. Probably both.

  She had tried to initiate intimacy for the first time that week, but he claimed he wasn’t in the mood. Chelsie had felt relieved. She wasn’t either, but she’d felt an obligation to try. Maybe after the stress of the Grammy’s passed, they would be able to talk and repair the damage in their relationship. He left early – as soon as the sun came up. She’d given him a quick peck on the lips before he’d disappeared out the door. Devon had a lot to take care of before the big show, and Chelsie had a date with Lisa.

  The two girls sat in their salon chairs, while Lilah and another employee primped their hair a
nd applied their makeup.

  “This is such a cute place,” Lisa exclaimed, as the curling iron wrapped around her thick curls.

  “The people are even better,” Lilah said with a wink.

  Chelsie had been deeply grateful for Lilah’s hospitality at her last visit. Her haircut had turned out perfect – so perfect that Chelsie didn’t want it styled too much for the awards. She just wanted it blow-dried straight with a little teasing on top. The bangs framed her face nicely and brought attention to her jade-colored eyes.

  Chelsie was excited to bring her friend to the salon for their award makeovers. After their appointment, they were picking up their dresses and heading over to meet the guys for the pre-party. The Grammy Awards were taking place at Madison Square Garden this year, which made their travel arrangements convenient.

  “I can’t wait to watch you guys tonight!” Lilah gushed. She applied a rosy blush to Chelsie’s cheeks. “I’ve never had a famous person in my chair before.”

  Chelsie chuckled at the assessment. “I’m only famous by association,” she told her.

  “You’re one hundred percent famous,” Lisa argued. “You’re sitting by Taylor Swift tonight.”

  The nerves began to bubble in her belly. She had always chosen to stay out of the spotlight. She didn’t mingle with the A-listers or attend socialite parties. Chelsie would much rather stay at home with her cat in her pajamas. She took a deep breath.

  A few hours later, the girls stopped by the dress shop to collect their gowns for the evening.

  “I feel like a princess!” Lisa exclaimed when she spotted her dress. “Pinch me, please. This cannot be real.”

  Chelsie and Lisa were fitted into their dresses at the high-end boutique. Chelsie studied herself in the mirror, her jaw dropping to the floor. She had chosen a deep turquoise, strapless dress. The top portion had a sweetheart neckline bodice and it hugged her curves in all the right places. A ruffled, floor-length organza skirt adorned the bottom half of the gown. She twirled her hips back and forth, watching as the layers of chiffon splayed around her feet. Rhinestones twinkled under the glow of the boutique lights above her head.