by Rachel Lacey
She shook her head. “No, I’ll hum along when I’m composing on my keyboard, but I’m not a singer. I’m a behind-the-scenes girl. You know that.”
“I thought I knew that, but that was before you married a rock star and told me you’re a songwriter. I’m questioning everything I know about you right now, Jennifer MacDonald.” Kate laughed as she took another sip of her water.
“I’m still me…just slightly more vulnerable than usual.”
“You know I’ll do anything I can to help you out, right?” Kate said, her tone softening. “We crossed the line into friendship years ago. Plus, it would be fun to sing one of your songs or try our hand at collaborating.”
“But you’re not working on new music right now,” Jenn reminded her. Kate was promoting her new album, Salvation, and then planning to take some time off while she settled into motherhood. “And Cole is.”
“Fine. One point to Cole. But just because I’m not actively working on a new album doesn’t mean I’m not collecting new material. You know perfectly well I’m always working on new music, even if it won’t hit the airwaves for a while.”
Jenn blew out another breath. No matter how well she knew Kate, it was still intimidating to think about writing a song for her because Kate was one of the biggest names in the business. “I know, and while it’s slightly terrifying to think about working with you on new music, I should really take you up on that, so thank you.”
“It won’t be terrifying. I’ll break you in easy, I promise. Bring something you’ve written soon, will you? I’m dying of curiosity.”
“Yeah, okay.” She nodded, gulping internally. There was no going back now. After years of sitting on her dreams, waiting for the perfect moment to make her move, she was doing this. And once she’d launched her career as a songwriter, she’d be ready to fall in love with her dream guy, get married, and live happily ever after…just as soon as she divorced Cole.
Jenn sipped from her Diet Coke to avoid the look Farrah was giving her.
“You honestly expect me to believe you fell in love and married that man over the course of a week in the Bahamas?” Her friend raised an eyebrow dramatically, pinning Jenn in her brown-eyed stare.
Jenn drained her glass, her straw making that obnoxious sucking sound as it drew air. “Let’s just say there was a lot of alcohol involved, and I wouldn’t have done it otherwise, but we’re committed to making this work.” She’d known her friends would have questions and suspicions and had decided to go for a half-truth. No one—except Kate—needed to know the full, embarrassing story.
“But you swear you’re not pregnant?” Farrah gave her another loaded look.
“I told you I’m not. And honestly, we got married too quickly for that to even be possible.”
“I suppose that’s true.” Her friend sighed. “I’m happy for you, Jenn. I really am. This is just so unlike you. I mean, you’ve been telling me about your ideal man and your dream wedding for years. And, no offense, but he’s nothing like Cole.”
“I know. Believe me, I know. Maybe…maybe I needed something like this to happen to force me out of my comfort zone.” She had no idea where those words came from, but as she spoke them, she realized there was some truth in what she’d said. As mad and frustrated as she was about her situation with Cole, she was closer than ever to achieving her dreams. Plus, he wasn’t exactly hard to be around.
“Well, you know what they say about true love striking when you least expect it,” Farrah said. “I just needed to be sure you weren’t in some kind of trouble.”
“I’m not, but I love you for being such a good friend.” She leaned across the table to give Farrah an impromptu hug. After finishing her meetings with Kate, she’d met Farrah for a late lunch in the Village to catch up.
The waitress arrived with their sandwiches—and another Diet Coke for Jenn—and their conversation fell to idle chatter as they ate. Farrah was a pharmacist at the Duane Reade on Forty-Third and always had entertaining stories to tell about the customers who came through her store.
“Any word from David?” Jenn asked. Farrah’s husband was a sergeant in the Air Force, currently stationed in Syria.
“His unit’s still scheduled to come home the first week of August,” Farrah said, her expression turned wistful. “I started a countdown app on my phone. Ninety-eight days until I get to see my man.”
“That’s such good news. I’ll be keeping everything crossed that he comes home on time.”
“From your lips to God’s ears.” Farrah pressed two fingers to her lips and lifted them skyward. “But I’ll wait however long I have to as long as he makes it home.”
Jenn nodded, her throat tightening uncomfortably at the thought of anything happening to Farrah’s husband. It had to be overwhelming at times, knowing he was half a world away, fighting a war. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Of course.” Farrah took a big bite of her tuna melt.
“Do you still think about…you know…the shooting?” It had been weighing heavily on her mind ever since the concert last night. The anxiety she’d experienced in that club was unlike anything she’d ever felt before, and she didn’t like it a bit.
“Of course I do,” Farrah answered as soon as she’d swallowed her food. “I think anyone would. That’s something that will stay with us for the rest of our lives.”
They’d flown to Vegas with a group of friends to attend the Route 91 country music fest, along with plenty of gambling, a girl’s weekend to celebrate their friend Casey’s thirtieth birthday. When the shooting started, at first Jenn had thought it was some kind of prank. Then people started falling… “But do you worry about it happening again?”
“Not any more than I ever did,” Farrah answered. “Statistically, living in New York City and all…”
“I’m not sure you’re helping,” Jenn said, sipping from her new Diet Coke.
“What’s going on, hon? Are you having flashbacks or something?” Farrah’s eyes were crinkled with concern.
“I went to a concert last night, and I couldn’t stop thinking about what would happen if someone opened fire. I completely freaked myself out.”
“I think that’s perfectly normal, considering,” Farrah said with a brisk nod. “What concert did you see?”
“The Swinging Squirrels. They were good.”
“Well, now I’m officially jealous,” Farrah said. “They’re one of my favorites this year. Did you get to meet them? And was the lead singer as cute in person?”
Jenn laughed. “Yes, and yes. He was nice too.”
“Man, you really do have the coolest job,” Farrah said before taking another bite of her sandwich.
Jenn smiled. “Yeah, I do.”
After lunch, she ran some errands for Kate—and herself—making it back to Cole’s town house just after seven. She was ravenous, and he wasn’t home. Was it weird that they didn’t keep tabs on each other like newlyweds should? Hopefully not. There really wasn’t a rule book for a marriage like theirs.
Deciding to shrug it off, she went down the hall to the guest room and changed into leggings and a loose T-shirt—grateful that she’d finally moved more of her stuff here to Cole’s house—then pulled out her phone and ordered a pizza for delivery: large and loaded with the works, just in case Cole showed up to join her. Then she padded down the hall and grabbed a beer out of the fridge. That was when her gaze fell on the piano in the den. There hadn’t been a piano in Cole’s house this morning. She was sure of it.
Not sure whether to believe her own eyes, she walked into the den and sat at the bench. It was a Baldwin. She was no expert, but this was an expensive piano. Unable to resist, she set her beer on a table nearby, lifted the cover, and rested her fingers on the keys. It had been a long time since she’d played a real piano. Even if she could have found an affordable used one here in the city, she’d have had no place to put it. For years, she’d composed music on the little keyboard she kept under her bed. It was okay, but this…t
his was nice.
Cautiously, she splayed her fingers over the keys and began to play. She was only a novice, but she enjoyed composing tunes to accompany the lyrics she’d written. She kept her songbook stored on her iPad, about forty songs total that she’d composed over the years, a catalog that she could begin to pull from as she launched her career.
Tonight, she played her current favorite, a song called “Lost,” a melancholy tune that appealed to her darker side. Sometimes she imagined how her songs would sound sung by Kate or another popular star, but not this one. It was all wrong for Kate’s voice.
“Wow,” Cole said from behind her. “You just took my breath away.”
Cole had been waiting all day for the sight of Jenn at the piano, and somehow it was even more spectacular than he’d anticipated. Her hair cascaded down her back, her slender fingers poised over the keys. He’d only caught a few notes of what she’d been playing, but he liked it. He liked it a lot.
“I didn’t hear you come in,” she said, looking at him over her shoulder.
“You like it?” he asked, coming to stand beside her with his hand resting on the piano.
“I love it.” She sounded slightly breathless. “It’s been years since I played a real piano. Did you buy it…?”
“For you? Yes, I did.” Worth every penny too.
She sucked in a breath. “But it’s yours. I mean, I’ll enjoy playing it while I’m here, but—”
“You can take it with you when you leave. Let’s face it, I’m getting more out of this marriage than you are, and I promised to help you out with your songwriting. It’s the least I can do.”
She stared at him for a moment in silence, her eyes wide. “Well…you didn’t have to do that, but thank you.”
“Welcome.” He sat next to her on the bench. “I wanted to put it in the studio, but they couldn’t get it down the stairs, so we’ll have to be mindful of the neighbors.”
She smiled softly. “That’s no problem. I’m not much of a night owl.”
“Were you playing one of your songs just now when I walked in?”
She nodded. “I was.”
“Can I hear?”
Something funny crept across her face, almost like his confident, unflappable Jenn was…nervous. “Would you like to sing it with me?”
“Baby, I would love that.”
She smiled and then got up and walked down the hall to the guest room, returning a minute later with a piece of notebook paper in her hands. “I’ll play it first so you can get an idea of the melody.”
“Okay.” He took the paper from her, glancing over the lyrics she’d written. Her handwriting was much more swirly and feminine than he’d been expecting, but he decided immediately that it suited her.
She began to play, singing softly. The song was a melancholy one, about being lost in a sea of people without that one special person to call your own, and even though he wasn’t looking for love the way she was, it resonated with him. Her voice might not have been suited to sold-out stadiums, but it was delicate and feminine like the rest of her, and he really fucking liked it.
When she reached the second chorus, he joined in, singing with her. “Jostled by the crowd…hurried by the tide…I’m lost, lost without you by my side.”
And he liked the sound of their voices together even more. By the time she’d finished singing, he had a good enough feel for the song to join in and sing it with her from start to finish.
“Wow,” she whispered, staring down at her hands on the keys.
“What?” he asked, because wow was what he felt too. If he’d had any doubts about Jenn’s potential as a songwriter, they were gone now. She had the talent and the drive, and there was no doubt she was going places.
“There was always something missing for me when I sang this song,” she said. “I try to imagine who I’d like to sing them when I write, but I was having trouble hearing this one. I was imagining a female voice, but your voice… It’s perfect. Imagine it with a guitar too?” Her eyes lit with a kind of excitement he’d never seen before. They’d created some magic here tonight, and they both felt it.
“I’d love to play it on my guitar.” He laid down the sheet of music. “Maybe I’ll end up recording one of your songs on my new album. And maybe we’ll compose one together.”
Before she could respond, the buzzer sounded. He scowled, hoping it wasn’t another overzealous fan who’d found his address on the internet. “You expecting someone?”
She nodded. “Pizza. Hungry?”
“Uh, yeah. Starved, actually.”
“Great.” She popped up from the piano bench and headed for the door.
He started to call after her, to remind her about checking the video screen…security and all that…but he stopped himself. Knowing Jenn, she probably understood his security better than he did. Instead, he went into the kitchen and grabbed a beer, hoping idly that she hadn’t ordered anything strange. They hadn’t shared many meals yet, meals of their own choosing anyway (not counting the semi-awkward dinners at her parents’ house) so he didn’t really know much about her taste in food. He was hungry enough to eat just about anything, though.
She joined him in the kitchen a few minutes later, cardboard box in hand. “I was hoping you made it home in time to help me eat this.”
“I had a thing… Shit. I should have told you, shouldn’t I?” It had never even crossed his mind to check in with her today.
But she was shaking her head, an easy smile on her face. “We’re just friends, Cole. You don’t have to tell me where you are as long as you’re not doing anything to jeopardize our faux marriage.”
“Believe me, the last thing I want is more bad publicity, and besides that, I would never cheat, even on my faux wife.”
“I know,” she said, still smiling as she opened the pizza box.
The pizza inside was loaded with a variety of meat and vegetables, and it smelled divine. “If this tastes half as good as it smells, I may have to switch pizza joints.”
“It’s from Brothers’ on Seventy-Fifth. I had to pay extra for them to deliver down here, but it will be worth it, trust me.” She slid two big slices onto a plate, snagged a beer out of the fridge, and headed for the living room.
“You haven’t steered me wrong yet.” He loaded up his own plate and followed her.
She threw back her head and laughed. “Other than suggesting we get married, you mean?”
“Other than that,” he said as he sat next to her on the couch. “Although, I’ve got to say, that hasn’t turned out so bad either. Being married to you has all but fixed my PR problem. It seems like you might be just the inspiration I need to finish writing this new album. And you’re not bad company either.” He winked.
She ducked her head. “Except for the no-sex thing.”
“That part does suck, yes.” But he’d never really had a female friend before, and—apart from all the kissing—he was definitely starting to think of Jenn as his friend. He flipped on the TV, and they ended up streaming this week’s episode of The Walking Dead while they ate.
Jenn cringed around a mouthful during one particularly gory scene. “Remind me to never watch this show while I’m eating again.”
“Especially food smothered in red sauce and various meats?” he teased.
She laughed so hard, she almost choked.
After the show, she went down the hall to her bedroom—like a good roommate—and he spent half the night downstairs in the studio working on music. His creative muse had always been strongest after midnight.
He didn’t see a lot of Jenn for the rest of the week since he was still asleep in the mornings when she left for work. They fell into a routine of having dinner and watching TV together in the evenings before she turned in. Then he’d go downstairs to work on music, and he was so fucking inspired, he might have his new album ready to record by the end of the month at this pace.
Friday morning shook his routine, though. He and Kate would be performing tog
ether on Good Morning America, which was all well and good except that it forced him to get up at three o-fucking-clock in the morning. Despite having gone to bed shortly after Jenn, he’d tossed and turned for hours and was a miserable mess when he came stumbling out of his bedroom a little after three.
Jenn stood in the kitchen, already showered and dressed for work. “I made a pot of coffee.”
“Thanks.” He crossed the kitchen and poured himself a steaming cup before dropping onto one of the barstools at the counter.
“Well, I guess I’ll see you there,” she said with a bright smile as she grabbed her bag and headed for the back door.
“Yep.” He took a much-needed sip, scorching his tongue in the process. A few minutes—and half a cup—later, he was pissed that he hadn’t been awake enough to protest her leaving without him. No doubt she’d be riding over with Kate, but they were all going to the same fucking place. Instead, he dragged his sorry ass upstairs for a quick shower and made it outside just in time for his own car to arrive.
“You look like shit this morning,” Jorja said as he slid in next to her.
“Good morning to you too.”
“I thought you were supposed to have a newlywed glow or something.” She gave him a skeptical look.
“No part of me ‘glows’ at this hour of the morning.”
She spent the rest of the drive going over his schedule for the morning, while he half listened, half snoozed. He was still half-asleep as she ushered him into his dressing room at Rumsey Playfield in Central Park where Good Morning America hosted their summer concert performances. He didn’t truly wake up until he’d stepped onto the stage for their crack-of-dawn rehearsal.
The roar of the crowd finally zapped his brain into gear. Even though it was still dark out and over an hour from the live broadcast, the area in front of the stage was filled with fans. Kate was onstage, midway through her sound check. She wore black pants and a loose blue top, chatting with the crowd while her sound tech made adjustments to the playback of her most recent hit, “Saved.”