“Were you jealous? Angry? Did it bother you?”
“Honestly, I was just exhausted at the time and felt like I barely knew my own name. I thought we were working on new music, but it turns out they were all kind of going through the motions.”
“So where is that music now? Is it going to be part of your solo project?”
He shook his head. “No. I have the recordings—which were essentially just jam sessions—and they’re tucked away for us to think about at a later date.”
“Has anyone heard them?”
“My family. I usually send them stuff when we’re working on it to get some feedback. It’s interesting getting their thoughts and ideas.”
“What kind of reviews or advice have they given you in the past about the music you sent them? Anything that you took to heart and shared with the band?”
“Not really. Most of their comments are more about how my voice weakens in certain places or the drums are too strong…nothing major and most of the time it’s not a finished product so I know those things would get corrected in the studio.”
“What about the solo stuff you’re working on? Have you shared it with them yet?”
Riley reached over and grabbed the glass of water from the bedside table. On the surface, this was a standard interview—Savannah had her recorder and all her pads and pens—the only difference was he was lying in bed wearing nothing but his boxers, and Savannah was sitting cross-legged on the bed, scantily clad in panties and a tank top.
And looking thoroughly mussed up after an afternoon spent making love.
Best. Interview. Ever.
“I sent the first few songs and then…I stopped.”
“Why?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. I felt like everything I was writing and playing just wasn’t how I wanted it to sound. In my head, I can hear it. I just…” He sighed with frustration. He knew they’d get to talking about this eventually, but the situation itself still angered him. Jumping up from the bed, he paced the room. “It’s here,” he said a little loudly, pointing at his head. “I hear it all the damn time, but I can’t get it down on paper to write it or get it out on my guitar! Everyone’s looking at me and telling me just to get it done and I can’t! It’s like I’m blocked—but not entirely. I’m slowly losing my mind and for the first time in almost fifteen years, I can’t play!”
He expected sympathy and pity and some sort of comfort. He’d been getting those looks from just about everyone he encountered on the project. So when Riley stopped pacing, he prepared himself for it and prayed he wouldn’t snap at her the way he’d been snapping at everyone else.
“Well, that sucks,” she said and continued to scan her notes as if she was looking for something.
“That’s it? That’s all you have to say—‘that sucks’?”
Savannah looked over her shoulder at him and shrugged. “What else am I supposed to say? I’m not a musician, I don’t write music or even play. I have no idea what it’s like to be blocked like that.”
“So you’ve never had writer’s block?” he asked sarcastically.
“Sure, but I don’t think it’s the same thing. I’m told what I have to write. Sometimes I’ll get hung up on an opening paragraph or the closing one, but basically the story is done for me once I finish an interview. Your process is completely different.”
Well…shit. That made sense. He collapsed back down on the bed and threw an arm over his eyes. “It’s frustrating as hell,” he muttered. “I feel like a complete freaking failure. And no matter what I do, I’m getting grief for it.”
Savannah shut off the recorder, and put her stuff on the floor, and stretched out beside him. “In what way?”
“The album isn’t getting done, so I’m getting grief from the record label. I said I needed to take a break from public life, so I’m getting grief from my manager and publicist. I mean, I can’t seem to do anything right. And then I come home here—to the place that’s like my second sanctuary—and everyone around me is thriving and being successful and I’m a damn failure.”
Slowly, she pulled his arm away from his face and forced him to look at her. “First of all, you’re not a failure. And I’m fairly certain no one in your family is looking at you like that.”
“You don’t know that,” he grumbled.
“Riley, for the last week I’ve been watching you. You think you’re not working, but you are. Every day I hear you singing and doing your whole repertoire of vocal exercises. You’re on the phone several times a day with your manager, your agent, and whoever that guy is at the label that calls you at all hours of the day and night wanting to talk cover art and concept with you. Things are happening!”
“It’s not the same—”
“Why? Because you’re not seeing instantaneous results?”
Sighing, he began to count off the points of his argument. “Hugh and Aubrey just had a baby and Hugh’s building this amazing beach resort here. Quinn and Anna just bought a house and his restoration business is featured monthly in a classic car magazine. Aidan and Zoe are expecting a baby and both of their businesses are booming. Darcy’s acing her sophomore year of college. Owen’s got this incredible teaching gig and Dad’s happy as a freaking clam with his house renovation and his relationship with Martha. And what am I doing? Nothing. Everything I touch is failing.”
“Wow…okay. Thanks,” she said with a hint of snark.
He glared at her. “Seriously? You know what I’m saying, Savannah. Everyone’s got their shit together and my life is just a damn mess.”
“Let me ask you something,” she said, scooting up to sit on her knees. “When you were touring the world in private jets and staying in five-star hotels, what was everyone else doing?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Bullshit,” she snapped. “You don’t think each and every one of your siblings had a time in their lives where they felt unsure of themselves or like they were floundering? News flash, buddy, everyone goes through it. No one’s business is a huge success from day one. No relationship is flawless from the first date. No one aces every class.” She sighed. “Yeah, things kind of suck for you in your professional life right now, Riley, but it’s temporary.”
He sat up and studied her. “What if it’s not?”
“What do you mean?”
“What if I can’t finish this album? What if the guys in the band decide they like their other projects more and don’t want to come back? What if I fade into obscurity and my legacy is how I couldn’t finish one damn album on my own because I wasn’t talented enough?”
They were at a standstill at the moment. Savannah stared at him and Riley could see she didn’t know what to do or say. Not that he blamed her. Neither did he. When she shifted and began looking around the bedroom, he figured she was looking for a way to escape graciously. He wouldn’t stop her. This certainly wasn’t the way he envisioned them spending their time after the hours they’d spent exploring one another.
Finally, Savannah stood and walked over to the closet and opened the door.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
She stepped into the space and then back out holding his guitar. Walking over to the bed, she handed it to him. “You can say no, but I don’t think you should,” she began. “I’m not a music executive and I’m not family. I’m neutral on the entire thing. You can either try to play what’s going through your head right now to me, or you can play something you’ve already finished and recorded for the solo project.” She shrugged. “I don’t care. Play ‘Old MacDonald’ if that’s what you want. But you need to play. Something. Anything.”
Reluctantly, Riley took the guitar from her hands and was only mildly annoyed by her high-handedness. Right now he’d rather be doing anything else other than holding a guitar and preparing to embarrass himself. He’d rather be holding her, kiss
ing her, making love to her again, or taking her out to dinner—anything other than this. He was just about to voice it when she sat back down beside him.
“Play me one song—any song at all—and we’ll call it a day,” she said softly. “I’m starving and I tend to get cranky when I’m hungry. So I apologize if I’m coming off as being bitchy. But we’ve been here for a week and you haven’t picked up your guitar once. That can’t be a good thing, Riley. Even if you’re struggling with the album and with the music, you should still be playing. I feel like I’ve kept you from doing something important.”
He shook his head. “It’s not you. I swear, Savannah. I just…even holding this right now? It gives me anxiety. I’m so into my own head on this that I’m sabotaging everything.”
She leaned in and kissed him on the cheek, her hands on his strong shoulders. “Play something. For me. Please.”
One look in her eyes and Riley knew he would deny her nothing. Taking a deep breath, he let it out and began to strum the guitar just to familiarize himself with the sound and get it somewhat in tune. After a few minutes, he put a little distance between the two of them and began to play one of the first ballads he’d ever recorded—“In the Stars.” It didn’t take long for the music to take over. Riley forgot he was in his childhood bedroom, sitting on the bed in his boxers, with no one but Savannah for an audience. He closed his eyes and sang, and it was as if he was onstage in front of thousands of people.
As the last note began to fade, his hands suddenly started to play again—only this time, it was something new. Something that had eluded him. As if sensing the change in him, Savannah carefully got up and grabbed her recorder and hit record.
Riley had no idea how long he played but when he finally stopped and opened his eyes, Savannah’s were filled with tears. He flexed his fingers and gave her a lopsided grin. “Well?”
She wiped at her eyes and sat back beside him and wrapped her arms around him and held him tight. “That was so incredibly beautiful, Riley,” she whispered and kissed him tenderly. “It was something new, right? Something you hadn’t worked on yet?”
He nodded. “How did you know?”
“When you first started, I saw the look on your face—it was as if the wall was finally starting to come down and you were hearing it for the first time too. Thank you.”
He looked at her quizzically. “For what?”
“For allowing me to be here and share this with you. It was…incredible.”
Reaching up, he cupped her face in his hands. “No. You’re incredible. Thank you for pushing me.”
“I didn’t mean to. I really didn’t. I know everyone’s been doing that to you, and I didn’t want to get lumped in with them. I was hoping I was encouraging you.”
“You did. You definitely did.”
She smiled at him and visibly relaxed, her head on his shoulder. “I think this is cause for a celebration.”
“I agree.” He stood up and pulled Savannah to her feet and hugged her close. “I want you to get changed and we’re going out to eat and celebrate.”
“Really? We don’t need to go out. We can make something here and…celebrate. Just the two of us.”
“Oh, we’ll hold another private celebration later. But right now I want to do what I’ve been dying to do since I met you.”
“And what’s that?” she asked coyly.
“I wanted to take you out. I want to wine and dine you and then bring you home and make love to you all night long.”
“Ooo…I like the sound of that.”
“I think you’re going to like the feel of it, too,” he said with a sexy grin. Then he kissed her soundly. “Go get ready.”
She looked up at him and he could see the twinkle of excitement in her eyes. “Give me an hour—tops. Okay?”
“I’d wait forever for you, Savannah,” he said solemnly, stroking her cheek. Slowly she moved away and then scampered from the room—her curvy body enticing him with every step she took.
* * *
It was well after midnight and they were lying in bed. “You’re right. This was way better than dessert at the restaurant,” Savannah said, still trying to catch her breath.
“I mean, don’t get me wrong, their cheesecake and chocolate cream pies are great, but they’re not nearly as satisfying as you are.” Pulling her closer, Riley kissed the slender column of her neck and simply breathed her in.
“Mmm…” she purred. “I have to admit, Shaughnessy, you certainly know how to impress a girl.”
He chuckled. “I do, huh?”
“Oh, absolutely,” she replied, her voice going low and seductive. “Dark corners, hiding behind menus, and then practically getting thrown out of the booth so you could take pictures with the fans…very romantic.”
He burst out laughing. “We were fine until that group of teenagers spotted us.” Savannah elbowed him in the ribs and that simply had him laughing harder. “Uncle! Uncle!”
But she was laughing too. “It wasn’t just the teenagers. How do you stand it? People were staring at you all night!”
He shrugged. “I’m used to it. And…for the most part…people keep their distance and respect my privacy. I don’t mind them taking pictures across the room or anything like that. What happened at the end was really a bit out of the ordinary.” His voice turned serious and he stroked her cheek. “I’m sorry about that. I didn’t mean to ruin our night.”
She sighed but smiled. “It didn’t ruin anything. It was just a little…weird. Those girls were a little brazen. It was almost as if I wasn’t even there!”
“Yeah.” He grimaced. “Sorry.”
“But on the flip side,” she countered, “it meant that we got to bring our dessert home to share later.”
“Do you want me to go downstairs and get it?”
Savannah shook her head. “Nope. I’m good.”
“Yeah you are,” he teased and kissed the top of her head.
“I’m going to miss this.”
Riley instantly stiffened and sat up. “Miss this? What do you mean?”
Slowly she sat up beside him. “Riley, I’m not going to share a bed with you when your father gets home. It’s not up for discussion. And my parents are going to be here tomorrow…well, later today…and I’m spending the weekend with them. So, yeah,” she said, stroking his jaw, “I’m going to miss this.”
He captured her hand, placed it on his chest, and held it there. “Then change plans,” he said softly. “I know your parents are coming and you want to spend time with them, but—”
“But what?” she interrupted softly. “You’re still going to be here, and I’m not comfortable sharing a room with you and everyone knowing about it. It’s not right.”
“It’s not anyone’s business but ours, Savannah,” he said firmly. “What we do doesn’t concern them.”
She smiled at him patiently. “It’s only for the weekend…kind of.”
He frowned. “Then we’ll stay someplace else after the weekend. With any luck, things will start getting done around here with the renovation and it will be too distracting to work here while construction is going on. We can go and stay at Quinn’s or Aidan’s and…”
Her other hand come up and stopped him. “Then it’s still out there for everyone to know. I’m…I’m a private person, Riley. I don’t need or want your whole family knowing we’re sleeping together. They’ll look at me like I’m some sort of groupie or something. I don’t want that!”
“No one will look at you that way. I won’t allow it,” he said fiercely, leaning his forehead against hers.
She kissed him. “You can’t control the way people look at me or what they think. That’s just ridiculous.”
He sighed. “We still have a lot of work to do on the interview and I don’t want to have to say good-bye to you at the end of the day. Not after eve
rything we shared today. Please. Tell me what we can do to make sure it doesn’t happen. I’ll deal with the weekend while your parents are here, but not for the next couple of weeks. I think I’d slowly go insane if I had to wait until we got back to L.A. to make love again.”
Wow. Her heart rate picked up and she felt herself getting turned on all over again. If he had that kind of power over her with just his words, Savannah knew she’d never survive the next few weeks without him again.
“You mentioned Aidan having an apartment…”
He nodded. “It’s a one-bedroom, Savannah. People are going to know we’re sleeping together if we say we want to stay there.”
“And it will be the same if we stay at a hotel,” she said wearily.
“Afraid so, sweetheart. Face it, unless we pack up and head home—which would devastate my dad—people are going to know we’re involved.”
“Involved?” she chuckled. “That sounds so…cold.”
In a move he was becoming famous for, he reached for her and rolled her beneath him as they both chuckled. “There’s nothing cold about it. We are involved. We’re dating. Seeing each other.” He kissed her deeply before raising his head and saying, “You’re mine.”
Yeah.
And she loved the sound of it.
Chapter 8
“So by the time she started high school, she was pretty much destined to start up a school newspaper there!” Paul Daly was saying as he sat at Ian’s kitchen table along with his wife Robyn, Ian, Martha, Savannah, and Riley. “That’s where she got the nickname Daily Scoop!”
Savannah groaned and Riley chuckled along with everyone else.
“She pretty much got the whole thing off the ground. The high school still uses the template she created and follows all the guidelines she put in place. They even honored her last year for her contribution to the school and the community,” Robyn Daly added. “We’re so proud of her.”
“And rightfully so!” Martha said with a huge smile. “That’s quite an accomplishment!”
Beneath the table, Riley reached over and squeezed Savannah’s hand in support. It was nice to see other parents who believed in bragging about their kids.
This Is Our Song Page 17