♪ My Blood by Twenty-One Pilots
SHE LAUGHED and pressed her lips to mine as she rolled me onto my back and climbed on top. “Yes, to us. Yes, to everything.”
The rest of the weekend passed in a blur of posing and lovemaking…
MY MIND RESURFACED from the memory as I spilled myself down the shower drain. My muscles went lax, and I began to get myself together, so I could go back to where the guys waited. In less than ten minutes, I made my way down the stairs.
“Pizza should be here in about fifteen more minutes,” Brooks said as I strolled into the room.
“Thank goodness. I’m starving.” I’d worked up an appetite out on the water.
“How were the waves, man?” Jett asked. He’d been out with me a few times before we went on the never-ending tour.
“Decent. You should’ve come with me,” I tossed over my shoulder as I wiped up the puddles of water I’d tracked across the floor earlier.
“Nah. I’ve been off a board for so long, I’d look like a kook again.” He shuddered at the possibility.
I chuckled. Before I could tease him about his cowardliness, Maddox called from the kitchen, “Yo, dude. What’s up with the Eiffel Tower puzzle on the table?”
“What are you talking about?” I answered back as I made my way into the kitchen.
“This picture puzzle thing you have in here with a ton of pieces missing. Don’t you know it’s pointless to try to assemble a jigsaw puzzle when half the pieces are missing?”
My heart rate kicked up a notch.
“What did you say you thought it was?” I asked breathlessly.
“It’s the Eiffel Tower.”
As I leaned over Maddox’s shoulder, I could see he’d put a bunch of the loose pieces into place. And now that he had, I could see what he meant. It had been over two years since we’d been in Paris. But the arching lattice pattern was unmistakable now.
“Must be some fan posing in front of the Eiffel Tower,” I mused.
“Posing with you?” he asked as he pushed around the unplaced pieces.
I frowned. “Why would you think that?”
“Because isn’t that your hand with the tattoo ring around your thumb?” He pointed to a lone puzzle piece off to the side.
With trembling hands, I picked it up and examined it, then peered at the tattoo around my thumb. Izzy’s design for my skin was printed on the paper. “Damnit. Yes, that’s my hand. What the fu—”
“Dawson, what’s going on? Why do you look so panicked?” He looked at me strangely.
The doorbell rang. “I’ll fill you guys in while we eat.”
Once we were all settled in the living room with plates and beers for them, soda for me, I launched into an explanation. “I know you guys got boxes of fan mail. When I went through mine, I found some that gave me a weird vibe, and there were these cut up photo pieces in them. Ultimately, I was able to get a stack of letters sent by the same sender our old label had kept. The pieces in there on the table were scattered through like a hundred letters.”
“Holy shi—” Jett exclaimed.
I interrupted him, “My thoughts exactly. I was hoping the photo might be of the person who’s stalking me. But if I’m in the photo, then the stalker can’t be.”
“How do you know? Maybe you took a selfie with her,” Maddox said with his mouthful of pizza.
“Not possible. Not in Paris. When we were in Paris, both times, Izzy was there. The very little time we actually left our room on either trip, I didn’t speak to any fans. I was too wrapped up in her,” I explained.
“Maybe it’s a photo from a magazine shoot?” Wilder suggested nonchalantly as he continued to devour his slice.
“I didn’t do any magazine shoots in Paris.” This was so frustrating.
“You won’t be able to tell that until you get more pieces,” Maddox said.
“What did the letters say?” Brooks asked in a quiet voice.
With my foot, I eased the box towards him. He set his plate down and pulled out a letter. After reading a few to himself, he read some out loud.
It only took a few of the creepy letters for Brooks to say, “You need to hire security and let them handle this.”
“We need to hire a lot of people,” I stated. As we ate, I started filling them in on Bas’s suggestions.
CHAPTER 21
IZZY
♪ Beautiful to Me by Olly Murs
I t had been two weeks since I met with Charles and wound up leaving several pieces with him. Before I left, we printed larger copies of the photographs he was interested in for both galleries. His staff was going to handle all the matting and framing. The only two pieces I couldn’t allow him to display were the Eiffel Tower piece and the handpicked bouquet painting. My heart twisted painfully just considering allowing those pieces to be out of my possession.
Since returning, I’d kept myself busy with photoshoots — portraits, events, weddings. They were a perfect distraction and helped keep the lights on.
Beckett and I hadn’t seen each other since we’d visited my parents. We both had too much going on. But we talked nearly every day, mostly about things going on with his work and the plans for the charity event for the research foundation he worked for. In my spare time, I worked on finishing the pieces in limbo on my easels. Except the self-portrait.
My phone vibrated next to me. “Hello,” I answered, placing my phone on speakerphone so I could talk hands-free.
“Isabelle, Charles Strong here,” his warm voice greeted me.
“Hi, Charles. How are you?” I couldn’t keep the smile out of my answer.
“Doing well, thanks. I’m calling with some good news. We’ve sold quite a few of your pieces from both galleries already.”
I stopped adjusting the contrast on the bridal portrait on my screen. “Wow. That’s great. I’m glad to know they’ll be getting a home and be able to bring someone happiness. Do I need to create some more for you?”
“Yes, but that’s not the reason I’m calling. My gallery hosts an art show once a quarter. The artist who was supposed to be featured next has been in an accident and won’t be able to participate. The board met this morning, and we decided we’d like to offer you the show.”
“What?” my voice squeaked with excitement. A show was my dream.
“Yes. I know it’s short notice. Less than a month. But since you have so many finished pieces already, I figured you could get enough together,” he said hopefully.
“Oh my. Wow. I’m honored. Of course, I’d love to. I’ll get right to work on sorting the pieces. How many do you think I need?” I rambled as I got to my feet and headed into the spare bedroom.
“Choose roughly thirty to forty. All media types. And select fifteen of your best pieces, so we can get some prints and art cards created. I’ll be in town soon, and we can start figuring out logistics.” He sounded pleased by my enthusiasm.
“Thank you so much, Charles.” Tears gathered in my eyes at the possibility of this dream coming true.
When I finished talking to him, I immediately began the soul-searching Charles had suggested I needed to do with my art. I prayed the search would help me choose the right pieces for the exhibition. I spent hours that night looking at creations I never thought I’d set eyes on again. I remembered every moment.
I cried over them. Savored them. Then tried to let them go. Mourning set in as I considered saying goodbye to representations of some of my most treasured moments.
When I could hold my eyes open no longer, I’d been through only a fraction of the photos. This was going to take forever. I settled under my covers and had just started to drift off when the tone on my phone alerted me to an incoming video call. For a brief second I considered ignoring it, but I swiped my screen and was met with Beckett’s smiling face.
“Hey, you,” he said softly.
“Hi,” I murmured.
“Did I wake you?” An apology was poised on his lips.
I scooted to sit u
p in bed. “Not quite. I was just getting ready to go to sleep. How was your day?”
“Not great. I lost a patient in the trial today.” The sadness in his eyes tugged my heartstrings. Beckett was invested in each patient in the clinical trials that had saved my life.
My hand covered my mouth. “Oh no. I’m so sorry. A new patient?”
“No. I don’t know if you remember him or not, but his name was Sam. He was there when you were undergoing your treatments.” He rubbed his hand over the top of his short, curly hair.
“I do remember him. Young guy. A year or two older than me. Blond hair. Soldier,” I ticked off the details I recalled. Sam and I had become friends over our shared physical misery.
“That’s him.”
“What happened? Had he been sick?” Once he finished the course of treatments, Sam had been the picture of health.
He shook his head sadly. “We don’t really know. His wife said he’d only complained of a headache a few days before. Hopefully, we’ll know more after the autopsy.”
“Should I be worried?” I chewed my lower lip.
The anxiety on his face didn’t match the words he spoke, “Not yet, babe. I’ll let you know if we need to do any tests. Now, tell me about your day.”
I didn’t press him for more information. He seemed so defeated. “Charles Strong called.”
“Did they sell more of your work already?” he asked excitedly.
I grinned at him. “Yes, but that wasn’t even the best news. He called to ask me if I’d be interested in having an art show in a few weeks.” I bounced up and down on my bed.
“Wow. That’s amazing. Wait, you did say yes, right?” His eyes narrowed in contemplation.
“Of course, I said yes. I have dreamed of having my own show since I was a teenager.” Now that Beckett had called me, the excitement over Charles’s offer had me wide awake again.
“I’m so proud of you. Do you have to create new stuff, or are you going to unload the work you already have completed?” He turned his attention to the cup of coffee he was fixing.
I bristled at his suggestion of unloading, but I forced back a comment. “Probably some of both.”
He sighed. “I really am proud of you. Make sure you text me the date, so I can try to arrange to be there for your debut.”
It wasn’t my debut. I’d already hung my work in galleries. But I reminded myself, this was just semantics. “I will.”
Weariness rolled off him. “I wish I was there with you. We could celebrate.”
“You’ll be here for a visit soon. And if you’re tied up, don’t forget my parents’ anniversary party is coming up, so we’ll see each other then. Unless you don’t think you can make it.” Having lost a patient who was one of the success stories of the clinical trials might change his schedule.
“True. Listen, I hoped to talk with you about this in person. But after the day I’ve had, I just don’t want to wait anymore,” he sighed and sank to his bed.
I swallowed hard at the seriousness of his tone.
“I want us to start talking about our future. I know we haven’t been together as an official couple all that long. But we’ve known each other for quite a while now…” He fidgeted with the pillow behind his head. “I want you to come move in with me. Or actually, I want us to get our own place. Together. I already looked at a few places. I’ll send you the links of the ones I like so far. And I met with a former patient who’s a photographer. He’s looking to hire a new person for his studio and is willing to consider you. I gave him your contact information. What do you say?” he asked eagerly.
I was speechless. The high I was riding over my upcoming art show crashed with this other prospect for my future.
“Isabelle?”
So many thoughts rioted in my mind. I grabbed one and gave it a voice. “Why did you decide to ask me that tonight? It seems so sudden.”
“Honestly, I’ve been thinking about it for a while. I’m tired of only seeing you for stolen weekends once a month. After a day like today, all I wanted to do at the end of it was come home and sink myself into you. Bury all my troubles inside your warmth,” he confessed, his fingers massaging his forehead.
His candor caused heat to rise in my cheeks. He’d never been so vocal about his need or desire for me. I felt bad I couldn’t be there for him when he needed me. And I felt guilty that a part of me was glad I was home.
I stroked my thumb over his cheek on the screen. “I’m sorry I can’t be there when you need me.”
“I know. And I’m not trying to make you feel bad for not being here. Coming home to my empty place after a bad day just made me realize how much I’d rather come home to you. I miss you.” His eyes pleaded with me to understand.
“I miss you too. It would’ve been nice to share my good news over dinner in person with you. So, I understand what you’re saying,” I offered. Long distance relationships were hard and a lot of work. Distance was a different factor in my relationship with Beckett than it was with Dawson. But the miles still complicated things.
“So, what do you say about the idea of us moving in together? And if you’re worried about what your parents will think, I already mentioned it to your dad.” He looked so pleased with himself.
“You did what?”
He shrugged. “Yeah, when we visited, I broached the subject with him.”
“Wh-what did he say?” I stammered.
“He said you were an adult, and they’d support whatever decisions made you happy. He also said I’d better treat you well.” He chuckled at that.
I nodded. “Sounds like Dad.”
“You still haven’t answered me.”
My lungs expanded with a deep breath. I had to be honest with him. He deserved it. “Can I think about it? The timing isn’t good right now. I need to be here with the show coming up. Plus, I have a lot of photoshoots scheduled in the coming weeks,” I explained, hoping he’d understand why I couldn’t answer. Yet.
“Sure, you can think about it. I’d want to think about it in your position too. I know what I want. I enjoy being with you. I want to be with you more, so I’m ready to take our relationship to the next level.” His explanation sounded so simple.
Could it really be that simple for me too? I like spending time with him too. I wasn’t looking to cut him out of my life.
“I know. And I enjoy being with you too. But it’s easy for you to suggest this. You aren’t going to be leaving your job, your patients, your home. You get to keep everything in your life. I’d be leaving everything of mine behind.” He had to see the scales tipped precariously in one direction instead of being even.
“I know you’d be leaving everything but me. And I don’t want to pressure you or rush you into anything. I just wanted you to know where my head was at.” He was so rational in his plea.
“OK. Thanks for telling me.” I stifled a yawn with my free hand. I was ready to crash.
“You look sleepy, babe. How about I help you sleep better?” he offered.
The mischievous look on his face should’ve clued me in, but I was too fuzzy headed to pick up on his suggestion.
“You going to sing me a lullaby?” I joked. It was something Dawson had done for years. I’d always loved it.
“Actually, I was thinking you should switch this call to your laptop and take your clothes off.” He waggled his eyebrows at me.
I gasped and blushed. It wasn’t that I hadn’t ever had phone or video sex before. With Dawson traveling the world for a huge chunk of our relationship, we’d gotten pretty adventurous in pleasuring each other from afar. But I’d never done anything like that with Beckett. He’d never even hinted it was something he’d even be interested in.
“I see I’ve shocked you speechless.” He chuckled warmly. “Hopefully, in a few minutes, the only sounds you’ll be making are moans of pleasure. I’ll call you back in five minutes. Get ready and answer on your computer. OK?”
I still hadn’t recovered my voice, so I jus
t nodded.
When he clicked off, my mind raced. Jumping up from the bed, I paced the floor for half a minute, maybe a little more. I wasn’t sure I was relaxed enough with Beckett to let him see me touch myself. We hadn’t even had sex with the lights on yet. I was so inhibited with him. The thought of him watching me made me feel incredibly vulnerable, but I couldn’t come up with a good reason not to try.
And an orgasm would certainly help me sleep better. I looked down at myself. Did I have to get naked, or could I leave on my tank top and sleep shorts? While I thought about it, I darted to the living room to grab my laptop from my desk.
When I got back to my room, I left the overhead light off and dimmed the bedside lamp to its lowest setting. I set the open laptop on the unused pillow next to mine. As I slid beneath my covers still dressed, I opened the drawer on my nightstand and grabbed my hot pink vibrator—a gift from Dawson years ago for us to use together, in person and on calls. It had gotten a decent amount of solo use in the years since our breakup. With it, I’d get off quickly, and maybe the awkwardness of Beckett watching would be short. I chewed on my lip while I waited for the call to come through.
The alert sounded, and my heart raced. My fingers ran through my hair, trying to make myself look pretty. I should’ve checked the mirror. Who was I kidding? Beckett had just seen me on the video call. He knew I was makeup-free and messy-haired. Sighing, I propped up on my side and answered the call on my laptop.
A shirtless Beckett filled my screen. His short hair was slicked back. He was in his bed, where I’d spent a handful of weekends over the course of our relationship.
“There you are,” he whispered.
“Here I am.” I smiled shyly.
“You’re so beautiful.” His hand brushed across his screen.
I swallowed hard, unable to answer through my nerves.
“Thanks for… this,” he mumbled.
I nodded. “Is this enough light? I mean, we’re usually in the dark. But I figured complete darkness wouldn’t quite work for this. So, I left the lamp—”
Notes of the Heart: Book 2 of the Lyrical Odyssey Rock Star Series Page 26