For a long moment, I stare at the millions of twinkling lights.
“I love it here,” I whisper.
“I do too. I feel like I can be myself here and not worry who’s watching…but it’s not my home, you know?”
“I get that.”
I ask someone to take our picture, and Jesse wraps his arms around me from behind and kisses my neck. It’s warm and personal and makes me tingly all over, and when I turn around to hug him, I feel nothing but comfort.
“Can you text me that picture?” he asks.
“Yeah, and I’ll make sure you get a print for your mantel.”
“I’d like that.”
It excites me that he’s willing to put our picture up in his living room, because he has no other pictures of family or friends. Jesse’s changed so much since I first met him. But I wish he’d realize he can’t give up his music just to please his family.
Tonight, I’m telling him what he needs to hear. But what if what I have to say makes him push me away again?
• • •
“This is turning into another Maya Henry’s Day Off,” Jesse says when we get out of the limo at Wollman Rink in Central Park to go ice skating. I’ve never gone before.
“Nah. It’s a Jesse Scott’s Night Off.”
“It would be if I could go buy that organ from the Met,” Jesse grumbles.
We rent skates and stumble onto the ice. “Jingle Bells” plays over the speakers, and the air smells like cinnamon and Christmas. A lady sails across the ice, spinning and doing fancy jumps. Showoff. Does she think this is the Olympics or something? (Okay, okay, I’d totally do those jumps if I knew how.)
Jesse and I trip and fall around the rink, laughing our asses off, and he pulls me into his arms beneath a towering, sparkling Christmas tree. He tries to twirl me in a circle, but our feet slip every which way. We grab each other to stay upright and share a long kiss.
“This moment is worth coming to New York,” I say. Worth every moment I spent working at Caldwell’s, worth selling my Suzuki.
Then Jesse announces we’re going to this place that makes “big-time bread pudding.”
The bread pudding utopia turns out to be a southern-style diner called Mama’s. Tons of pictures of mothers are crammed on the walls—and not only famous mamas like Queen Elizabeth, Kate Middleton, and Hillary Rodham Clinton, but regular ole people too.
Jesse hands me a cup of bread pudding while I study photo after photo. “I want to give them a picture of my mom,” I say.
Jesse points at the wall with his spoon. “My mom would probably say all these mamas are sinners.”
“I’m sorry about your parents, Jess. What they did to you on Thanksgiving was awful. What they’ve been doing to you for forever is awful.”
He slowly spoons pudding into his mouth and nods.
I scoot to the other side of the table to sit beside him. “When are you gonna realize your uncle adores you? That Mr. Logan adores you? And Holly? And me?
“I’m sorry, Jess. I know the situation with your parents is complicated. But you can’t quit the business because of them. You love music. And God gave you a gift. It’s time you start owning it.”
He drums his fingers on the table, eyes watering. With a sad look on his face, he spoons another bite into his mouth. He must be upset, because no one in their right mind could eat this bread pudding and frown at the same time.
“And if you want to quit to have a life, I think you’ve already got one. Tonight was great.”
A small smile. “I am happy these days.”
I decide to change the subject to lighten the mood. “I’m leaving you for Liam the sexy piano player.”
“Well, then I’m becoming a roadie for the boarding school babe.”
“Wait, what? Who are you talking about?”
“You know, the girl I turned the lights out on? The one with the French braids? I’ll be in charge of her little plaid skirts.”
“Have fun with that.”
Jesse whispers in my ear, “Remember that little black skirt and corset you wore the day you shadowed me? God, it drove me crazy.” He feeds me some pudding and kisses my nose stud.
Then his phone rings. He massages my inner thigh as he speaks. “Hey, Mark… Eating bread pudding… No, I didn’t try to buy the organ… I dunno, a bunch of underwear and bread pudding and a stuffed penguin.” Jesse suddenly looks up at me, grinning. “This was the best day ever.”
When he’s off the phone with his manager, he says, “No word from Charles and the producers.” He runs a fingertip up and down my arm, making me shiver with pleasure. “Do you want to go to my hotel and relax?”
• • •
Jesse keeps me close as we cross the sidewalk to the Peninsula. I can see why he likes being in New York—people still stare and paparazzi still snap photos of him as bellmen whip open the doors to the hotel, but everybody keeps their distance for the most part.
A bellman gives a slight bow. “Welcome, Mr. Scott.”
“Thanks.”
In the lobby, I tug off my mittens as I gaze at the chandeliers, the grand staircase, and a twinkling Christmas tree. A man—presumably a manager—rushes out from behind the front desk, shiny black shoes clicking on the marble floor, and accompanies us to the elevator, shielding us from onlookers. The man gives Jesse a key card and shakes his hand. We ride the elevator to the very top floor, and then we’re alone in front of a set of double wooden doors. His hotel room.
Jesse opens the door for me, and I hesitate. “My mom and brother are probably online looking at pictures of us entering the hotel right now.”
“We don’t have to stay here.” He slips the key card in his wallet. “I can take you back to your mom.”
I touch his arm. “No. I want to be here with you.”
“I want to be with you too.”
Jesse leads me into an extravagant room that’s somehow cozy. There are plush couches and armchairs you can sink into and artwork on the walls, and don’t even get me started on the floor-to-ceiling views of Fifth Avenue. I’ve never seen a grand piano in a hotel room before. This is a long way from the Motel 6 we stayed in on the drive from Tennessee. I turn in a circle, spotting a kitchen and a hallway leading to a bedroom.
“You don’t do anything on a small scale, do you?” I ask.
“You know me. Go big or go home.” A look of embarrassment crosses his face before he adds, “The TV show pays for the suite.”
“Seriously, why does one person need all this space?”
He wraps his arms around my waist. “You mean two people, right?” He gives me a kiss on the cheek that turns my knees wobbly. “Be right back. I’m gonna make sure my guitars and luggage arrived okay,” he says and disappears down the hall.
I sink onto a couch and kick off my boots and kneesocks, digging my toes into the plush rug. That’s when it hits me. I’m with my boyfriend in a hotel room without my parents or annoying brother around. We can do whatever we want…we can go further than we did last time when we were making out in my bedroom. I take a deep breath, remembering how warm and solid his body felt against mine. Remembering how jittery and shaky I felt, as if I just stepped off a roller coaster. But I’m not nervous anymore, because I know exactly what I am to him. We both feel the same about each other.
“I need to use the bathroom,” I call.
I shut the door behind me, turn on the cold water, and splash my face, then squirt some toothpaste onto my finger and run it over my teeth. Even though I don’t know what will happen with Wannabe Rocker, today has been the best day of my life. And now I’m alone with Jesse. Now, when I know for sure I want him and he wants me. I stare at myself in the mirror, feeling confident and happy and calm. I like him enough to risk everything, and I don’t want to stop falling.
I find Jesse sitting at the grand pia
no, playing his new song. He doesn’t look up when I walk over, lean across the piano, and rest my chin on folded hands.
“C’mere,” he says, beckoning me with two fingers. I slide in next to him on the bench and he nudges me. “Let’s play ‘Heart and Soul.’”
“I have to learn another song, Jess. This one is getting boring.”
“Here’s something new.” His fingers begin tapping out a melody. A ballad. “I’m a swatch of quilllllllllt and I want to be sewn into your hearrrrrt.”
I elbow him hard in the gut, and with a laugh, he retaliates by giving me a sloppy kiss on the mouth. A kiss that starts out silly becomes focused and intense, and he pushes my hair behind my ears, and his fingertips caress my cheeks as our mouths explore. He breaks away and cradles my neck. “Do you want to go in the other room?”
My face burns in anticipation. “Yeah, definitely.”
He holds out a hand to help me up, and we kiss all the way to the bed as the bright lights of New York pour in through the windows. I crawl onto the plush white comforter, but Jesse doesn’t give me a chance to get comfortable before beginning to kiss me again. We’re both sitting on our knees when he tugs my dress over my head, runs his hands across my black lace bra, and unsnaps it. He mouths my neck and jaw, and I shiver as I unbutton his wrinkled white button-down, running my palms over the warm velvety skin on his lower back, kissing the freckles on his shoulders.
I fall back onto a pillow to admire the view. I love his flat torso, strong chest, and yummy biceps, especially when he settles on top of me. I unbutton his jeans, then bury my hands in his hair, getting a whiff of his citrusy shampoo. His lips trail over my skin, from my collarbone to the sensitive inside of my elbow, to my belly button. I suck in a deep breath when his fingers slip beneath my waistband. I hear the rustle of my underwear landing on the rug.
Goose bumps rise on my skin. I’m excited. Curious, but scared. Nervous that my body won’t feel anything, like when I was with Nate.
Jesse kisses my stomach, and I do want to feel his body against mine, but there’s also an urge to cover myself, especially when his lips move lower.
“Jess, wait—”
He glances up at me. “Have you done this before?”
I shut my eyes and shake my head. Nate never offered, even though I did it for him. I’m not sure I would’ve said yes to Nate, because it’s such a personal thing, but Jesse is different, and that makes me want to consider it, even if it feels like sharing my deepest darkest secret and asking him to accept it no matter what. Biting my lip, I clutch the duvet, pressing my knees together.
“It’s okay,” he says, running his warm hands over my thighs. “Just tell me if anything makes you uncomfortable, and we’ll switch things up.”
Chills and a rushing white heat go to war inside my body as I let go of my fears, trusting that he won’t let me fall. When I relax onto the soft pillow and dig my heels into the blankets, I turn into a whole new girl—a woman.
He looks up into my eyes. “By the way, this is what normal guys want in bed.”
And the hands that play the most beautiful melodies on guitar gently grip my hips, and I bury my fingers in his hair, and without a word, we make a new song together.
• • •
We lie tangled in the sheets, my head on Jesse’s chest, which rises up and down under his heavy breathing. I trace the underside of his elbow and twine my feet with his. The lights of New York fill the dark room with a silvery glow, making this moment feel magical.
“What does the tattoo on your back mean?” I ask.
“It’s the Celtic symbol for music.”
Music really is his life and soul. “That’s perfect.”
“You need a tattoo.”
“Of what? The Celtic symbol for the Jesse Scott Fan Club?”
He laughs and murmurs into my hair, “You’re okay with us being together, right? I kind of made that call today without asking you.”
I smile into his chest. I’ve never said I love you to a guy before, and when I do, I’ll be giving him all of me, trusting him to take care of my heart. And I want to try for that with Jesse.
“Definitely,” I say. “I can’t believe Jesse Scott is my boyfriend. You’re so not my type.”
“Are you sure you don’t wanna have sex with me?” He laughs so hard at his own joke he snorts, and I pinch his arm.
“I’ll think about it when you get home from tour.”
His head lolls back on the pillow. “Great. I was already desperate to get back to Tennessee to you, but now it’s gonna feel like my tour will never end.”
“You’ll survive.”
“Maybe we can practice beforehand, you know, on the phone?”
“Oh my God, I will not have phone sex with you!” I say, tickling him, and speaking of phones, his rings.
He grabs it from the nightstand and answers. “Yeah…yeah…okay.”
He hangs up and stares at me for a long moment. “They’ve made some sort of decision. Mark wants us back at Radio City.”
• • •
After we locate our clothes and underwear that we flung all over his hotel room, freshen up, and get dressed, Jesse leads me downstairs and outside to his limo. It’s nearly eleven o’clock.
“Can we pick up my mom and brother on the way?” I ask, and Jesse makes arrangements with the driver. It turns out Mom and Sam aren’t far. Only about five blocks.
We spot them standing on a sidewalk in front of a small coffeehouse, bundled up in their coats and scarves. Jesse has the limo pull over. Mom smiles broadly when she slides across a leather seat and starts pushing buttons just like I did, which makes Jesse laugh.
“I’ve never been in a limo before!” she says.
“Hi, Sam,” Jesse says, and my brother gives him a long, scary look that says I know what you’ve been doing with my sister.
Jesse’s Adam’s apple shifts as he swallows hard. I hope my brother learns to like my boyfriend, because he’s not going anywhere. I grin to myself and my face heats up as I replay our hookup in my mind. Jesse loved how I touched and kissed him everywhere.
Mom sits next to me on the bench and takes my hand. “Do you know what the decision is?”
“Not yet,” I reply. Jesse squeezes my other hand. “What have you been doing tonight? Did you guys go to dinner or anything?”
With a wide smile, Mom looks over at Sam, who has a sheepish grin on his face. “We were wandering around and ended up in the diamond district, and all these store owners kept asking us to come inside and browse…so we did.”
My heart starts thumping wildly. “Did you, um, buy anything?”
Sam shakes his head, continuing to smile. “Not yet. Got some good ideas though. I’ll go back tomorrow.”
I squeal, excited this is finally happening. My brother and Jordan have been best friends since they played football together in elementary school. Everyone always knew they would end up together—it just took about forever for it to happen, and then they had to date for, like, a million years.
“Do you know how you’re going to ask Jordan?” I ask.
“I was thinking about jumping out of a giant cake,” Sam replies dryly, and Mom and I scowl at him.
Back at Radio City, before I walk into the Roxy Suite, Mr. Logan pulls me aside. “I’m so, so sorry about all this.”
Oh no. That’s it. It’s all over. I sniffle hard to keep my tears at bay. “I’m sorry too.”
Mr. Logan pats my shoulder. Then I go sit on a sofa between Jesse and my mother. Neither can sit still.
Mr. Tyson straightens his tie. “I apologize for keeping you waiting all day, but I believe Charles and our producers have come up with some solutions to our problem.”
“You got me out of the contract?” Jesse asks.
Mr. Logan pats his shoulder. “You know we can’t do that, s
on.”
“And I won’t let you,” I whisper in his ear. “You said you felt like something was missing from your life, and I’m not letting you give up something that makes you feel good about yourself. I know you like helping other musicians.”
Jesse’s mouth edges into a small smile. He demands, “What about Maya?”
His lawyer turns to me. “Maya, how would you feel about participating in next year’s contest? Mr. Tyson has assured me you could bypass all auditions up through round two of the semifinals.”
Next year? That’s forever away, and I am ready to perform now. Tears flood my eyes, and I start sniffling. I can’t help it. At my reaction, Sam leans over and puts his head between his knees, and my mother covers her eyes. Jesse pulls a handkerchief out of his jeans pocket and passes it to me. I dry my eyes and listen as my boyfriend goes to town.
“That’s not good enough,” Jesse growls. “What else?”
“NBC will reimburse Maya’s travel costs this year and next.”
“And?”
“Footage of Maya during this year’s first three episodes. Even if she doesn’t compete this season, everyone in America will know who she is.”
“What else?” The edge to his voice sharpens.
“I’m prepared to show a three-second clip of her during the opening credits of the show,” Mr. Tyson says with a warm smile.
That would be huge!
“But a whole year?” my mother asks.
“It would be good for her,” Mr. Logan says, pointing at me with his little black notebook. “She could work on getting some solo gigs back in Nashville. Get more experience that’ll give her a leg up for next year.”
“That’s true,” Jesse says to me. “After you take more lessons, you’ll do a lot better in auditions. I’ll help you get the training you need.”
Sam lifts his head from between his knees. He nods once at Jesse with respect, looking grateful. I feel the same way. After today’s auditions, I know I need more practice, but I also know I can become so much more.
I tell everyone I need a moment to talk with Mom and Sam. I lead them out into the grand foyer, where I look around, not quite believing how much confidence I’ve built in myself. How far I’ve come. Wondering how much further I can go. There are always second chances.
Jesse's Girl (Hundred Oaks #6) Page 20