by Claire Adams
“Are you going to stare at the building all day or actually go inside? Come on, sis. It's not a fire-breathing dragon, it's just a lump of concrete and steel, and it happens to have a chunk of change waiting inside for you.”
I glared over at my brother before offering him a close-up view of my middle finger and a snarky frown.
“Give me a break, all right?” I said.
Jackson held up his hands mockingly, a cheeky grin plastered across his face. I loved my brother, but sometimes he could really irritate me, and often, he seemed to have no clue about when humor was appropriate and when it wasn't.
Jackson wasn’t my first choice as backup. Grace had an early studio call, so she hadn't been able to come with me. Call me chicken, but for some reason, I didn’t want to show up at the place all alone. Just the thought of it sent butterflies flapping their wings like crazy through my stomach.
So, I had called up Jackson, taken him out to brunch as a bribe and then talked him into riding with me so that I would be able to actually go inside of the studio when I got there instead of sitting in the parking lot for an hour trying to talk myself into it. As Grace had reminded me, I needed to pick up my bonus check. Or, rather, my pay-off. I felt a bitter sting of resentment biting at my insides as I thought about it.
“What’s wrong, Nay?”
I sighed, rubbing a hand over my face. “I don’t know. You remember when we used to sneak into the music room at the orphanage, and I would just stare at the piano, wanting to play but not brave enough to risk making a noise?”
“I do. I also remember the way you used to touch the keys, as if they were made of glass,” he added, a faraway look in his eyes. “I knew then that you were going to be something special. None of the other kids could ever hold a candle to what you were able to do on that piano.”
Tears threatened to fill my eyes as I continued to stare at the building. “I had such high hopes of making it in this business. I only wanted people to hear my music, you know? Is that so wrong?” I glanced over at my brother, remembering our childhood and the dreams I held that had started back then.
Pangs of regret and sorrow began working their way through my body like an invasive parasite. I had come so close to getting a foot in the door of the industry I had dreamt of for so long, but now it looked as if that would never happen. My hopes and dreams lay in tatters and ruins.
He reached over and touched my arm. “Of course not, Nalia. You're meant to be a star, and you will make it in this business. I promise you that. You just have to believe in yourself. You're so talented, and you work so hard at it; it's just a matter of time before the right person notices you. Don't give up now.”
I looked at him, giving him a soft smile. “You should have been a motivational speaker. Or maybe a therapist.”
“Well, if I was,” he said, his eyes narrowing, “I would have told you to stay far away from that d-bag rocker. Oh wait...I did tell you that. Hmm. You, however, chose not to listen. This would be where I give you the dreaded I told you so speech. But, he already broke your heart, so I’ll spare you. This time.”
My heart ached at the mention of Owen, and all the feelings of what he meant to me came rushing back. Sitting there, staring at the studio I dreaded entering, I found myself wishing things would have worked out between us just so I could prove everyone who had doubted us wrong. But, in the end, it seemed they had all been right.
Grace’s words, however, continued to haunt me. What if I had been wrong? What if I had jumped to conclusions and never gave him a chance to explain? What if Owen hadn’t been the ass I assumed he was, and, instead, was actually the exception to the rule?
“Hey. Earth to Nalia,” Jackson broke me from my trance. “How about you go get that check so we can get the hell out of here,” he suggested, his voice jolting me from my inner thoughts and self-questioning.
I nodded, pulled in a deep breath to steady myself, and opened the car door. Seconds later, I walked into the building and took the elevator up to the floor where the studios were. When the elevator doors opened, the place was eerily quiet. The lights were off, but there was still a good deal of light entering through the windows, so it wasn’t dark, but it did feel a bit like a ghost town.
The secretary wasn’t at the front desk, so I stood there for a moment, looking around and trying to decide what to do. That’s when a familiar sound floated through the air—music. It faintly sounded like a piano playing.
I took one more look around before following the sound, realizing with a start that it was my song playing. This was my song! What the hell was going on?
Turning the corner, I peered down the hall and noticed a light on in a room ahead. Naturally, I walked toward it, hoping that someone could explain how my music was playing in the studio. If someone had recorded me unknowingly, I would fight tooth and nail to get it back. Nobody was going to be ripping off my songs. Nobody. That was my music, my talent, and I’d be damned if I was going to let anyone steal it.
I stepped in front of the doorway and gasped at the sight of rose petals scattered on the floor. The equipment in the studio had been pushed back to allow for dozens and dozens of candles to be lit along the wall, the light giving the room a soft, romantic glow. Wave after wave of surprise and wonder crashed over me.
I suddenly felt as though I should turn and leave. It seemed I had just stumbled into a proposal in the making. But, my curiosity moved me forward into the next room. I stopped and turned around in a slow circle.
Some lucky fool was going to enjoy this, even cry over the romantic gesture. Why couldn’t I be lucky like that? I hoped that they understood how precious this was and how amazing they should feel that someone cared for them enough to go all out in such a way. Still though, the thought that someone had stolen my music to do this kept the anger flickering like a fire inside me.
“Hello, Nalia.”
I spun around at the sound of the familiar voice. He stood at the door, leaning against the doorjamb with his arms crossed over his chest, dressed casually in a polo shirt and khaki shorts, with his typical converse standing out in bright red. There was no denying the man was gorgeous. And at the moment, he looked tanned, rested, and totally unlike the hot mess that I had felt like lately.
“O-Owen,” I managed to stammer. “What on earth are you doing here? Why aren’t you in Florida?”
He pushed off the jamb and walked into the room. “Well, I was, but there was something I had to take care of on this side of the country.”
I swallowed hard, anticipation building. “What was that?”
He smirked and dropped his arms. “You know, you’re insanely talented, Nalia.”
“I, um, thank you,” I said honestly, glad that someone like him thought I had talent. “That means a lot.”
“It’s not flattery—it's the truth. There’s only one problem, though.”
“A problem? What might that be?”
He smiled. “You need a chance. Everyone deserves a shot at making their dreams a reality, and I want to give you that shot. Please, Nalia, let me help you grow your talent and spread it all across the country and beyond. I just want this chance to help you make your dream come true.”
I stared at him, unable to believe what was happening. He wanted to help me become famous? That in and of itself was a dream come true. “I-I don’t understand.”
“What’s not to understand? I want to help you, Nalia,” he stated. “And all I ask for in return is that you come back on tour and help me finish it. Come to Florida with me and see this thing through. I swear, I won’t ask for anything else, and then when we're done, we can start on your album. I'll cover all the costs, of course, and give you a very handsome signing sum if you'll allow me to have the honor of adding you to the list of artists signed to my label.”
My heart hammered wildly in my chest, and I thought about the possibilities he was offering me: a recording contract, a chance to do what I loved best in the world, and a chance to live out my d
reams. It was too much.
“I will even offer my vocals, if you think any tracks would benefit from them,” Owen continued, the tone in his voice becoming eager. Like he felt he needed to do or say more to convince me.
That’s when it all clicked—the roses, the candles, the bonus. This was about more than Owen offering to sign me to his record label. I knew that I should stop him, that I should tell him I was excited about the opportunity, but knowing he had done all of this just to get to talk to me, for him to need me so badly was a feeling I couldn’t describe, so I drew it out a little longer. Just the thought of what could happen had my head spinning.
“Please say yes, Nalia,” he said softly.
I walked slowly across the room, closing the gap between us and trying hard not to cry. This man was giving me a chance to live my dreams, something that, just a few minutes earlier, I had thought would never happen in my lifetime. And he was looking at me like I meant something to him. More than just a recording contract. More than just an assistant on his tour.
He was looking at me with something in his eyes I recognized. Desire. How could I say anything but yes? So, I did.
“Yes,” I said, sticking out my hand. He grabbed it and pulled me close to him, our bodies suddenly pressed against each other, unleashing a whirlwind of emotions as a result. It was going to be a difficult time on the road, I just knew it, but at that second, all I could do was lose myself in the moment.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Six Weeks Later
Owen
I faked air guitar as Jeremiah strummed the last bit of the song, the crowd going insane. After months on the road, I was kind of glad to see the tour draw to a close. We’d had a fantastic run, and now it was time to go home.
No more touring, no more late nights, and no more of the hassles and frustration that being on the road brought with it. We were going to take a break after tonight, perhaps a long break.
It had definitely been a wild ride, and I was beyond happy that we'd done it and pulled it off so smoothly. We were back on top, and we were all over the press and the internet. To top it off, album sales had shot up as a result. People really loved our new music, too, it seemed, even though it was a bit different from the old stuff they were used to.
For our final song, it was time for something really different.
“Thank you, Chicago!” I shouted out. “We have one more song for you tonight, and it’s a special one. But first, I need a very special person to sing it to.”
The crowd went wild with women and girls alike jumping up and down for me to pick them. Not that their enthusiasm mattered. I already had a woman in mind, the one woman who had toughed it out and gone back on the road with us.
True to my word, I had allowed her to do her job, sitting back and watching her work her magic for the last two months. During our downtime on the bus and free hours in the hotels, she and I had worked closely together on writing some new material for her album.
Despite the fact that over the past two months we had stuck to our agreement to keep things strictly professional between us, I had never felt so strongly about any woman as I had about her. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind that I wanted her in my life. Nalia was my other half. She just didn’t know it yet. She had turned out to be the kind of woman who I thought couldn't exist outside of the realm of dreams—except she did exist. She was real.
In spite of what was probably expected of me, I hadn’t fallen for some wild child, rock groupie. I had fallen in love with the girl next door, the girl that had me thinking about settling down, getting married, and raising a family. I had come to understand why rockers left the music scene to have another life outside of the craziness. While the fame was kickass, and the excitement and adrenaline were addictive, I had grown to prefer spending a quiet night with Nalia, going over scales for one of her beautiful songs, instead of partying or making appearances to maintain my rocker persona.
“I know I’ve kept you all waiting,” I finally said to the crowd, looking over at the wings of the stage, knowing she was standing there, “but I won’t make you wait any longer. Nalia, will you join me on stage? Everyone, welcome Ms. Nalia Dean!”
She shook her head as I motioned to her, a smile on her beautiful face. “Come on. Don’t be shy. Nalia, Nalia!” I shouted into the mic, getting the crowd behind me to chant out her name.
Finally, she walked out, embarrassment written all over her face. It was adorable. I gave her a grin and pulled her close for a tight, reassuring hug. “This is Nalia everyone. Nalia, say hi.”
“Hi,” she said into the mic shyly. The crowd started waving and shouting, and I grinned, pulling the mic back toward me. “Tonight is a very special night. It’s our last night on tour, and I thought we would end the show just a little bit differently.”
I turned toward Nalia and looked into her eyes, hoping she could see the love that was reflected in mine. It had been the hardest two months of my life keeping my distance and respecting the fact that we both needed some space to see if this was real. At least, on my end, it felt damn real. More real than anything I’d ever known. I just hoped that she felt the same way.
I nodded over her shoulder, and the band struck up a song we had been working on, one that reminded me of her. “This is called ‘Beautiful Disaster,’” I said, keeping my gaze on her. She blushed under the attention, and I launched into the lyrics, singing them from my heart.
“There was a time I couldn’t tell which way was up
but then you waltzed into town,
turned my whole world upside down.
You showed me love, you showed me grace,
now every day I want to chase
the love I never knew that I was after.
All I want is this beautiful disaster
that has me acting like a fool
because I’m so in love with you.
I want to be your happy ever after.
My beautiful disaster.”
Her eyes widened, and I held onto her, hoping she understood what I was trying to say. I sang the rest of the song, never breaking eye contact with her until the last note had finished.
“Please, give me another chance,” I said softly, holding my hand over the mic. “Just one more chance, that's all I'm asking for. If you’ll give me that, I’ll give you anything.”
“Oh, Owen,” she murmured, reaching her hands up to rest on each side of my face. “This is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me.”
I beamed, leaning down to press my lips to hers. It was a sweet kiss that shook every cell in my body. I pulled back, still smiling at her, then turned to the crowd, uncovering the mic. “Well, what did ya think?”
The crowd erupted into a frenzy, and I laughed, mainly because I was so damn happy. Nalia laughed, as well, and I hugged her before releasing her, kissing her on the cheek. “How about another round of applause for Nalia everyone? Oh, and by the way, she's an amazing piano player. Would you like to hear her?”
They cheered as I looked over at Jeremiah, who was already moving the keyboard in place. The guys and I had already talked about it earlier, about giving Nalia her first real chance to wow the crowd. We all knew she could do it, she just had to take that first step—and what better time than the present?
She looked shocked as the guys placed the keyboard a few feet from her. I pushed her toward it. “This is your chance,” I whispered into her ear. “Knock 'em out cold.”
“I-I can’t,” she protested as I sat her down on the stool.
I kissed her forehead, which elicited another cheer from the crowd. “You can, I promise. I know you can. Just do what you do best, and they won’t know what hit them. You're going to be awesome, babe.”
She swallowed, flexing her fingers, and I stepped back, swelling with pride as I waited for her to blow them away.
The first few notes filled the crowded venue, and the crowd immediately fell silent, Nalia’s concentration on the keys as her hands began to fly over
them was mesmerizing. I closed my eyes and allowed the notes to wash over me, thinking of how damn lucky I was to have found her when I did.
She didn’t know it, but she’d saved me. She’d saved me from myself. Saved me from a lifetime of searching for something to fill a void that I now understood only she could fill.
This woman was my beautiful disaster. She’d come into my life like a whirlwind and completely rearranged everything, shown me that what I thought was a perfect life needed to a little calamity. And, it was indeed beautiful. I didn’t plan on letting her go, ever.
I watched from the edge of the stage where I had moved to so that she was front and center. She finished the last notes, and for a moment, the crowd remained silent. But then they erupted into wild cheers, and I knew exactly what they were feeling. It was the awe I’d felt the first time I heard her play.
Looking stunned, she rose from the stool and bowed, her cheeks blooming with excitement. They loved her, but not even close to as much as I did.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Nalia
I couldn’t believe the crowd was clapping and cheering for me. Just one little song had gotten them worked up into a frenzy. After bowing once more, I hurried off of the stage, meeting Owen on the fringe of it.
“You were amazing,” he exclaimed, wrapping me up in a big hug. “God, you astonish me. You just blow me away every time I see you perform.”
“Thank you,” I said, a little dazed at what had just happened. Had he really told me he loved me? I could feel it in his voice, and I could see it in his eyes. It had been there all along; I had just been trying to ignore it to keep myself from opening up. But there really was no denying it.
The last two months had been sheer torture to work so closely with him but to still have to maintain that distance between us as we each did our best to keep it professional. I was so tired of pretending, though, that I didn’t care. I needed him, and that was all I could think about at that moment. Rising up onto my toes, I leaned toward his ear and whispered to him, “I love you, too.”