by Nicole Vidal
“Slow down, gorgeous. I’m here. I didn’t break any rules from the doctor to get here. Let’s eat so you can rock this city.”
Of course, he ordered tacos. We eat quickly, and Melissa touches up my makeup. I couldn’t contain all the tears. Connor walks me down to the lift and waits for the show to start. He joins Christoph at stage right. The show flies by with the crowd screaming and cheering. When I drop below the stage for my final costume change, Connor is stage right with a huge smile on his face. I smile back and finish my final show as Carys. I considered taking off the colorful wig onstage but decide I don’t want a frenzy at my last show.
After two curtain calls, I walk off stage and into Connor’s arms.
“That was amazing! I’ve never had so much fun at a concert before. You rock, Callie,” Norah exclaims.
“Thank you.”
Hand in hand with Connor, I walk to the car to return home for our relaxing vacation. A short bumpy flight later, I thank Cash Morgan and deplane. I will use Pemberton Airlines going forward. For the next two weeks, we’re staying at Connor’s. I climb the stairs of his condo and walk directly to the bedroom. I strip off my clothes and step into the shower. When I finish washing off my last concert, I find Connor fast asleep in our bed. Our bed. I’m still getting used to that.
Chapter Forty Seven
Connor
“Morning, sunshine.” I find Calliope making coffee when I return from my walk. I still have a week before I’m cleared for normal workouts. Unfortunately, that includes all strenuous physical activity. It’s literally the most torturous part of my recovery, especially considering we sleep together every night now.
“Hi. How far did you walk today?”
“Only three miles, and I didn’t jog any of it.”
She hands me a bottle of water after I kiss her slowly and deliberately. “Good. Can we go to the office before we meet with your mom?”
“Sure, why?”
“Gemma texted me. My mail is overflowing the space in the office.”
“Sure. When is Madeleine sending out the press release?”
A huge smile spreads across her face. “She plans to release it at noon today.”
“What is your plan for handling it?”
“Honestly, I don’t know if it will even matter. The release sets out that I’m Carys and I’m taking a well-deserved break from the public eye to focus on writing and recording music that is more aligned with me personally. I plan to lay low until I either have an album to promote or simply stay behind the scenes as a writer.”
“Is that what you decided to do? Not sing for an audience anymore?”
She wrinkles her nose. So adorable. “I haven’t foreclosed the idea of singing, but I don’t know that I ever want to tour again, definitely not for as long as this last one.”
I slide my arms around her waist and draw her against me. “As long as you promise to sing for me at least once a week, you can do whatever you want.”
“Deal. We need to get moving. I don’t want to make your mom wait for us.”
I laugh, and we hurry down the hall to dress for the day. We make a quick stop at the office. It takes four trips to my truck by both of us to move the fan mail that arrived in the last four weeks.
“Wow! Has it always been like this?” I ask as Jake calls us into his office for a quick word.
“It wasn’t at the very beginning. I was able to keep up with it myself until the first award season and I won my first Grammy.”
“No wonder you needed a full-time publicist.” I smile, lean over, kiss her cheek, and thread our fingers together.
“Hi, Jake,” we greet him in unison.
“Hey, guys. Have a seat.” I motion for Calliope to sit but remain standing with my hand on her shoulders.
“Here is Cruz’s final report. Briefly, Kincaid is being charged with assault with a deadly weapon, stalking, and firearms possession to start with. Kellerman isn’t being charged with anything. There isn’t enough evidence to tie him to Kincaid attempting to pay for a photo of Callie nor proof that he knew or should have known about the payments to Bruce for her flight information. Kellerman has been adamant that he simply wanted to speak with you. He refused to tell Cruz the topic though. Nothing he could do to force him to share.”
“Thanks, Jake. We need to get going. We’re meeting with Mom. She wants to check on me personally almost a month later. Yet somehow I need to drive to her.” I share.
“No problem. Are we all set for tomorrow?”
“Yes, we plan to leave at eleven.”
“No problem. We’ll be ready to assist.”
What I told Jake was true, my mother wants to check me out herself and that’s the reason we’re visiting. But that isn’t the entire truth. We don’t intend to share our plans for adoption until we’re further along in the process. I park by the garage door and hurry around to open Calliope’s door.
“Hey, Mom, Dad. We’re here,” I call out after we step inside.
Their home, my childhood home, is a large colonial that they updated about five years ago. My parents come rushing into the foyer to greet us. I shake my dad’s hand, and he hugs Calliope. After my mom hugs Calliope tightly, she sets her palm to my cheek.
“How are you, honestly?”
I shrug. Jake filled her in on the details of my injury while I was in recovery. I talked to her briefly after Calliope left for Atlanta. That probably wasn’t the best time to talk to my mom. “A little sore, and the stitches are itchy, but otherwise not too bad.”
“Is he telling the truth, Callie?”
As if my mother doesn’t know when I’m lying and when I’m telling the truth.
She smiles. “Yes, for the most part. He omitted the extra sleep he needs but otherwise all true.”
My mom smiles and leads us into the kitchen. “I know you aren’t really here for me to check him out myself. Is everything okay?”
I look over at Calliope, and she simply hangs her head. I told her my mother would know something was up. “You’re right. We have a huge favor to ask you.”
My dad turns to face us from the other side of the island where he’s preparing a cup of tea for my mom. I lift Calliope’s hand to my lips and gaze over at her. She nods tightly. “We want to adopt a child.”
Tears stream down her face before she even utters a word. “I would be honored to help. You don’t want to have your own children?” Her question is directed mostly at Callie.
“We want both. It quite honestly shocked me that we agree on that,” Calliope answers.
Dad rounds the island and hugs me from behind. I’ll admit, I wasn’t braced, and it hurt a bit. My mother’s poker face is nonexistent. Not only is she ecstatic about us as a couple, but she also sees we have the same plans for our future.
“Let’s get started,” my mom croons.
Over the next two hours, we talk and answer questions about ourselves and what our ideal scenario would be. Calliope and I agree that we would foster if adoption were a near certainty. Otherwise, we prefer straight adoption. We don’t have any hard and fast age requirements either, although honestly, I would prefer a child younger than five if I’m being completely transparent. While we talk, my dad prepares lunch for us.
After eating, we head home to tackle the mountain of letters in my truck. The moment I turn on my phone, the notifications fly in rapidly. While we were wrapped up in the details of our future, we momentarily forgot about Madeleine’s announcement.
“Is it bad?” Her words come out soft and unsure.
I surround her with my arms. “No. For the most part, everyone assumed Carys was your stage persona, but no one felt as if you had to share your personal life with your fans. The comments on your website are almost all positive.”
“What are the negative ones?”
“I don’t know that I would say negative. This comment indicates she’s happy that you felt comfortable to share the real you but hopes that you would consider singing both new ma
terial and Carys’s material in the future even if the genre is different.”
“That’s interesting. I never really thought both would work. Still not sure it will, but it gives me hope.”
“You’ll make the right choice. Are you ready to tackle those letters?”
I tilt my head upward, rise on my toes, and kiss him softly. “Yes, let’s get started. We have a busy day tomorrow.”
“We do?”
Her face wrinkles with confusion. “Aren’t we going to my house tomorrow?”
“Yes, you’re right. I don’t see it as busy.” That was close. Almost messed up the surprises I have in store for her. She may think that’s what’s happening, but it isn’t.
Chapter Forty Eight
Calliope
Hours later, we decide to take a break for dinner. We have combed through most of the fan mail. I’m determined to finish it after pizza. I want to avoid bringing it to my house tomorrow. We share a large pepperoni pizza on the upstairs patio. After cleaning, we move the ottoman in the living room and work to finish the last set of letters.
Most of the letters are colorful and have stickers or other adornments on the outside. It’s indicative of the sender. Many of these letters are from tweens and young teens looking for an autographed photo. Others seek information about my costumes or my love life. The one currently in my hand doesn’t belong.
“Where is that from?”
“New York. There’s a return address but no name.”
Connor pauses as I open the envelope. A smaller envelope falls out and a few other postmarked envelopes as well. My hands start shaking when I see the smaller one that is resting on my leg.
“What, baby?” He scoots closer to me and throws his arm around my back.
I drag my fingers over the outside of the envelope. “That’s my dad’s handwriting.” There are some things you simply don’t forget. A whiff of my father’s cologne or my mother’s favorite perfume still sends a warmth coursing through me before the tears overtake me. A freshly baked peach pie, which was my mother’s specialty, makes my stomach knot up. The sheer joy of family that Connor has with his is one of the things I miss the most. It may have only been the three of us, but the love was immeasurable.
“How is that possible?”
He swipes the tear from my cheek with the pad of his thumb.
“I don’t know.” I sift through the contents of the package again. There are five envelopes addressed to C. Sutton.
“Is that where you lived with your parents?”
I nod slowly and open the envelope addressed to Carys. Connor’s hold on me tightens even more. I don’t know if it’s even possible for it to ever be tight enough in this moment despite his chiseled body.
Hi,
You don’t know me, but our parents worked together at Cantor Fitzgerald. My father was a victim too. About three years ago, I finally mustered enough courage to go through my father’s belongings. After my adoption, my parents sold my early childhood home and put the proceeds into an account for me. They saved everything they felt I might want when I was ready to learn more about my father. It was only the two of us. My mother died shortly after I was born.
When I found this enveloped and enclosed photos, finding you became a mission for me. I hired a private investigator to find you. It took some time, but he found your real identity through your corporation. I decided to send it to your publicist instead of your home. I thought it would be less intrusive.
I hope these photos bring back some happier memories even after all these years have passed.
Sincerely,
Theo Reus Kellerman
There’s a second letter dated last week. This one addressed to C. Sutton instead of Carys but in the larger envelope that was sent to my Carys mailing address listed on my website.
Ms. Sutton,
I apologize for Colt’s behavior. I didn’t know he was actively looking for you to expose you. His motives were not legitimate. I simply wanted to get these photos to you. Somehow the letter my father wrote and entrusted to your dad was delivered to my adoptive parents within six months of them passing away. It has taken me four years to find you.
I never intended to cause you any additional pain. We both have plenty to deal with already.
Theo Kellerman
I resist opening the envelope containing the photos, but I can’t stop the tears. Connor lifts me into his lap and holds me while anguished tears soak his shirt. Heaves and sobs wrack my body despite the comfort his strong arms provide while he holds me as tightly as he can without hurting me.
Ten minutes or an hour could have passed, I have no idea. The sobs have lessened, and my breathing has evened out a bit.
“Do you want to talk?” he whispers against my skin.
I shake my head, and the sobs return. With a wince, Connor stands from the floor and carries me into the bedroom. He resettles against the headboard and cradles me against his chest.
I attempt to shift, and Connor’s arm tugs me closer. The last thing I recall is Connor carrying me to the bedroom. It’s clearly the middle of the night now. Not even rest between crying fits is enough to sort through the mess in my head. The only thing that makes sense right now is Connor. I’m torn whether to tear into that envelope or leave it unopened. Part of me wishes I never got it. Had I received it much closer to their passing, I may have readily opened it. Now, I’m not sure if I want to see snippets of how my life used to be. I’m finally happy.
“Will you share with me?” he murmurs, his breath warming the nape of my neck.
I turn in his embrace and tangle my legs with his. The feel of him against me sends my thoughts in a completely different direction. “When I’m ready. My head is a jumbled mess right now.”
He draws me even closer and lowers his lips to mine. The mere touch of his mouth to mine soothes me. His kiss reminds me that we can overcome anything if we’re together. Every ounce of passion in this kiss is for me to understand he’s behind me however I choose to handle that letter.
I add some space between us and stare into his soft ocean-colored eyes. “Thank you.”
“Always. I love you.”
“I love you.” My eyelids flutter closed, and I fall asleep in his arms until morning.
Chapter Forty Nine
Connor
My confidence in today’s plans received a huge blow last night. Sorting through the final crate of fan mail should have been a heartwarming and complete feeling for Calliope. She could end the Carys era on a happy note. Instead, she receives a letter from her parents over twenty years later.
I have spent more than two hours oscillating between canceling my plans for today and moving forward. Doubt has a funny way of creeping in when you least expect it. She loves me and wants to be with me. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have agreed to build a home or talk to my mom about adopting children with me. I push my concerns away and finish making breakfast.
She joins me in the kitchen as I finish the coffee.
I hand her a cup and lean down for a tender kiss. “Morning, sweetheart.”
“Morning. How long have you been up?”
Much longer than I’m going to admit. “Not too long. This is almost done.” I add the omelets onto the plates with toast and sausage and set the plates on the dining table instead of the island.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
She digs into her food, and we eat in silence. Most of our food is gone before she speaks again. “Are you going to tell me what’s bothering you?”
Wasn’t planning on ruining the surprise. “Nothing is bothering me.”
“I don’t believe you.” Her reply is terse and pointed. The look in her eyes is fierce and sad at the same time. It’s maybe the second time she’s been ticked since we met, and it’s aimed at me.
I’m stunned and at a loss for words. How can I tell her but not tell her? “We have big plans today, and I’m wondering if we should put them off.” Not bad, Conno
r.
“No. Absolutely not. We aren’t changing our plans for today. True, that letter from Kellerman and the contents was a curveball, but it doesn’t change anything I want. Whether I open it and see images from my past or not has no bearing on going home today.”
My nerves ramped up a bit with her adamance. “Are you sure that’s what you want?” I slide my hand to the center of the table and cover hers with mine.
She pulls hers back and slides her fingers between mine. “Yes.”
“We need to make a stop in town and Jake’s before we leave.”
She nods. “Whatever you need.”
I need the world to know your mine officially. “Thanks.”
“Of course.”
Near nine we head into the garage. After buckling her into the passenger seat, I rush back inside to calm my nerves. Jake has everything I need already. My stomach is in knots. My nerves haven’t been this bad since… I don’t remember a time they were this bad. We head into town, and I pull over in front of The Nook.
“Is Norah working?” she wonders aloud.
I know she isn’t. “Not sure, I don’t think so. Do you need something?”
“Just curious.”
“Do you want to stay here or come in with me?” Offering that to her was harder than I anticipated. All her security threats have been handled. She isn’t on tour anymore, and Blackthorne is no longer under contract to protect her. It has been that way for the last few weeks.
“I would like to stay here. I know it’ll be difficult for you, so if you want me to come with you I will.”
This woman owns me. I lean across the console and claim her mouth. Once we’re breathless, I draw back. “I won’t ask that of you. I’ll be right back.”
I hop out of my truck and make it halfway across the street before I exhale. I placed a special order, so I simply need to pick it up. Jake and Norah handled the rest. Well, more accurately, they brought what I asked for to the house, our house. I have purposely kept her away from Jake’s so she couldn’t see the progress on our home. I rejoin Callie in the truck and head to Jake’s.