by Julia London
The day quickly bumped into evening, and Mia made herself stop sewing to get ready for Brennan. He never let a day pass without coming down to see her and chat about her day, but it had been two days since they’d had any quality alone time.
He arrived at her apartment after Emily and her friends had left and made love to her like she was the last person on earth.
Jesus, the sex was fantastic. But that’s not what drew Mia to him—what drew her was their conversations. He admired the fabrics she was creating, the sketches of dresses she was going to sew for extra cash. He talked about how creating music was such a fickle thing, how it always started with a chord, but grew from there.
“I’d love to hear your music sometime,” she said.
“You will,” he promised. “When I finish this song, I’ll play it for you.”
They also talked about things that Mia never really discussed with other people, topics that didn’t really come up in casual settings. Gender equality. The plight of the hungry in Africa. The drought in the West. Mia loved it; she loved expressing her thoughts and opinions and not having them shot down. Brennan never shot her down. He listened to everything she said and just discussed it.
Her life was beginning to feel very full.
But there was a part of Mia that knew she was feeling things for Brennan that were going to hurt in the end. She didn’t really care at present—the inevitable end seemed very far away, something she could worry about when the time came. It was too early to broach the subject of where it was going between them, to assume anything. The only thing Mia knew with all certainty was that her heart swelled with happiness when she saw Brennan. She told herself it was okay for the moment. She told herself she could handle what would come. She told herself she was being cosmopolitan and experiencing life. What could be wrong with that?
And then there was Jesse.
Jesse made her laugh. Jesse spoke her language. When the gold-plated fixtures were delivered to the Ross house, Mia and Jesse stood side by side, wide-eyed and aghast that someone would spend that kind of money on a light fixture for a closet that no one was going to see. They had grown up in the same town, had experienced the same sort of life. They were surprisingly compatible.
Mia liked Jesse well enough . . . but he didn’t make her heart pitter-patter. Thoughts of Jesse didn’t wake her up at night. He was handsome and he was fun . . .
But there was that niggling memory in the back of her mind when she thought of him. He’d asked her to tone down. She could imagine, if she were to seriously date him, how many times that would happen. She could imagine, if their relationship progressed, that it would become an issue. Maybe she wasn’t being fair. Maybe she ought to give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe.
Brennan had never been anything but complimentary of her look.
Oh God, who was she kidding? Was it really so wrong to daydream about a relationship with Brennan? Was it foolish to walk around Ross house and imagine them together at Thanksgiving or Christmas? Or to envision a shared apartment in the city? He would work on his music, and she would work on her art, and they would go for coffee, arm in arm, and talk about the world.
It was just a fantasy; Mia knew in her heart that it was only that. Brennan had never mentioned the possibility of staying. She just wished her hope wasn’t so large.
Late Friday afternoon, Mia was packing up to go home. She heard Brennan walking down the hall to the kitchen as he normally did, but was surprised to see him with his guitar case and a duffel bag, dressed in jeans, boots, and a leather bomber jacket. “Hey, handsome,” she said.
He glanced around as he set the items down. “Where’s Mom?” he asked.
“Tennis, I think.”
“Good. I might need to ravage you here on the kitchen island.” Mia laughed as he gathered her in his arms and kissed her. He lifted his head and said, “Listen, I’m taking off for a few days.”
“Oh.” She tried not to appear as surprised as she felt. He’d been at her apartment last night and hadn’t mentioned anything. “Where?”
“California. There are some people I need to talk to.”
“What people? About what? About your music?”
“Hopefully.” He glanced at his watch. “You’re going to a wedding this weekend, right?”
She colored. It felt odd to mention that now. It felt odd to think of Jesse now. “That’s the plan.”
He glanced up from his watch and his gaze flicked over her. He smiled and averted his gaze again. “You should go and have fun.”
“Are you . . . you’re okay with that?”
“Yeah,” Brennan said, and drew a breath. “More than okay. You should go.”
Why should she go? Mia pressed her lips together. She wanted him to tell her not to go, to take her in his arms and ask her not to go out with Jesse. Just a few days ago he was asking what was between her and Jesse. Now he was telling her to go out with Jesse and have fun. “I mean, if you’d rather I not,” she said uncertainly.
Brennan didn’t take her in his arms or ask her not to go. In fact, he did the opposite. “I can’t tell you what to do. I don’t have any claim to you.”
Mia was stunned into silence. Of course he had no claim to her . . . but was he not even going to try? Didn’t he want to claim her? Jesus, just claim her already! Claim her caveman style, say she was his, and that was that!
He frowned. “What?”
“I don’t know,” she said. Her stomach was suddenly churning. “I just thought you might—”
“Hello! Mia?” The sound of Skylar’s voice startled her. The dogs leapt from their pillows and, barking with their miniature ferociousness, raced down the entry hall. “Oh no,” Mia said.
“What?” Brennan asked, glancing over his shoulder.
“That’s my cousin.” Mia hurried out of the kitchen.
“Can you make them stop?” Skylar cried, trying to nudge the dogs away from nipping at her feet.
“Come!” Brennan said sternly, and the dogs reversed course, racing back to the kitchen.
Skylar’s head came up at once, and she looked past Mia to Brennan. Mia looked at him, too. He’d picked up his bags, was ready to walk out the door. Skylar’s timing could not be worse. Mia looked back at Skylar—she was going to ask her to wait outside, but something was wrong. Skylar’s gaze was fixed on Brennan. She was gaping at him. And Mia was sure Skylar knew him. How she knew him, Mia was afraid to find out.
“What are you doing here, Skylar?” Mia asked.
“What?” Skylar spared Mia a glance. “Jesse had to go get something, so I talked Wallace into letting me bring up the tile that came in today. I thought I’d give you a ride home.” She shifted her gaze to Brennan again, her eyes moving over him, her expression one of pure delight. “Aren’t you going to introduce us?”
Mia wanted to kill her. It had always been this way with Skylar, poking her nose in where it didn’t belong. “This is Brennan Yates,” she said stiffly. She glanced at Brennan, who was regarding Skylar warily. “And this is my cousin, Skylar McCauley.”
“It’s really nice to meet you,” Skylar said. “Brennan, did you say?”
“Yes, Brennan,” Mia said curtly. “Come on, I’ll show you where to put the tile,” she said, and touched Skylar’s arm.
But Skylar shrugged her off. “So what is it you do, Brennan?” she asked.
“Skylar,” Mia said low. She put her hand on her cousin’s arm and turned her around. Skylar’s body came, but her gaze would not leave Brennan. “The renovations are down there. Go ask one of the guys where we can stack the tile.”
“I haven’t seen you around the village,” Skylar continued, ignoring Mia. Behind her, through the open door, a Lincoln Town Car rolled onto the drive and stopped when Drago appeared.
“I’ve been tied up,” Brennan said coolly.
“I bet you have, Brennan,” Skylar said, and laughed.
Drago walked in the front door. “Mr. Yates? Your car is here.”
“Sorry for what?” Skylar asked.
He gave her a fleeting smile, but Mia could feel that something had shifted between them. Mia didn’t know what, but something had changed, and it didn’t feel good. It felt dangerous. It felt like a heart was going to break somewhere in this foyer.
Brennan walked forward. He took Mia’s hand and squeezed it. “We need to talk,” he said. “I’ll call you as soon as I can.” He let go of her hand and started out the door.
Mia stared at him, unable to think clearly. He was going to call her and tell her he wasn’t coming back? “Brennan, wait.” She started after him.
“Mia—” Skylar tried, but Mia swept her arm against Skylar, pushing her back. “Will you please just go ask where to put the tile?”
“But you—”
Mia hurried out onto the drive as Brennan handed his things to the driver. When he glanced up at her, she blurted, “Are you coming back?”
“What? Yes, of course.” The words came out of his mouth, but they didn’t sound terribly convincing. He touched her shoulder and leaned down to give her a kiss on the cheek. “Of course I’ll be back,” he said again.
“Is something wrong?” she asked, sounding a little desperate.
The driver looked at her sidelong as he opened the back door.
“Nothing is wrong,” Brennan said. “I’ll call you and explain when we can have a little privacy and some time to talk.” He smiled. “But I have to go.”
Mia stared at him, her thoughts racing around a million questions.
“Mia,” he said, and cupped her face. “I swear I will call you just as soon as I can. I wish I could stay and talk to you now, but I have to catch this plane.” And with that, he got in the car.
Dumbfounded, Mia stood rooted as the car pulled away from the house. She couldn’t see him through the darkened windows, but she could feel his gaze on her. As the car pulled around and drove down the drive, Mia’s stomach sank to her toes. She knew. She didn’t know how or why, but she knew that very moment that her glorious love affair had ended, just as she’d always known it would.
Her heart was twisting, the blood roaring in her ears. She didn’t notice Skylar at her side until she spoke.
“Is he gone?”
Mia slowly turned her head to Skylar. “Yes,” she said coolly. “He’s gone.”
“What the fuck, Mia?”
Mia’s mouth dropped open. “Excuse me?”
“Are you kidding me right now?” Skylar demanded. “You look like you’re mad at me.”
“I don’t even understand why you’re here, Skylar!” Mia snapped. “Other than to meddle.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Skylar shot back.
“Tell you what?”
Skylar glared at her. But then her eyes widened. She gasped softly, then abruptly grabbed Mia’s arms. “Oh my God, you don’t know,” she said, her voice full of disbelief.
Mia pushed Skylar’s hands off her arms. “Know what?” she demanded angrily.
“I can’t believe it. Mia, you really don’t know? That man is Everett Alden! Does Drago know? Does Jesse?”
Mia knew that name, Everett Alden, but for the life of her, she didn’t know why. She just stared at Skylar, her mind racing through all the people Everett Alden could possibly be.
“Ohmigod, I can’t believe this!” Skylar laughed, and turned a full circle with her palms pressed to her cheeks. “This is crazy, Mia. He’s on the cover of every magazine right now, and the whole time, you’ve been sitting on him. Everett Alden is the lead singer of Tuesday’s End. Please tell me you’ve heard of Tuesday’s End, because if you haven’t, you must be an alien.”
Mia felt something seismic shift in her. She was furious with Skylar for saying anything like that. For ruining everything. “No he’s not,” she said, unable to believe it.
“Yes,” Skylar said, nodding adamantly, “he is. He’s like one of the biggest rock stars on the planet. How could you not know that? You really do live under some pretty painted rock, don’t you?” Skylar said, gesturing at Mia. “This is so typical of you, Mia! It’s like you take pride in being oblivious. I can’t believe my cousin has been fucking Everett Alden!” She laughed hysterically.
Mia was shattered. She was confused, disbelieving—and her chest felt as if there were a vice around it, squeezing the air from her. How could it be possible? It couldn’t be! His name was Brennan, not Everett. This couldn’t be some joke and she the only person who didn’t get it.
But then a moment wafted back to her. His mother had called him Brennan Everett.
“Are you okay?” Skylar said.
“Why is he on the cover of all the magazines?” Mia asked.
Skylar’s eyes widened. “Oh, Mia—because he fell off the face of the earth. He walked away from one of the most successful tours in years and no one knows where he is.”
The tightness in her chest was choking Mia, making her feel sick. A million thoughts and questions pinged in her brain. Why hadn’t he told her? Why did he have two names? She thought of all the times she’d teased him for being a rock star for wearing hats and sunglasses outside. And his music! She wanted to die, thinking of how she’d dismissed his music as a hobby of the idle rich. But he’d let her do that. He’d let her tease him and assume things and he’d never said a word. He knew what a fool she was, and he’d let her believe that there was something between them. Why? Just so he could fuck her?
Everything in her felt upside down. She’d just spent three amazing weeks with this man, only to find out he was toying with her. Using her.
“Oh my God, I can’t believe I found Everett Alden,” Skylar said, her voice full of wonder.
Mia’s world cracked and opened beneath her feet.
Twenty
Disaster.
This was an unmitigated, irreparable disaster.
Brennan tried calling and texting Mia on his way to California, and then again on his arrival. Goddammit, he should have told her, but he’d let his emotions and his twisted thoughts get in the way. He could strangle himself for it.
He knew the moment her cousin looked at him that he’d been outed. And then the car service had come, and he hadn’t known how to drag her off to the side and tell her, then leave. He had decided that it would be better to call her.
That was a horrible mistake. He should have told her long before today. He should have called Phil and told him to hold off. But he hadn’t. He’d kept those feelings for her at arm’s length.
To make matters worse, he had only had a moment here and there to try and reach her. The moment his chartered plane touched down at the Van Nuys Airport outside of Los Angeles, Phil whisked him away in a plain Suburban with tinted windows like he was moving a jewelry heist to Kate Resnick’s palatial home in the Pacific Palisades. “The label is getting antsy,” Phil complained on the way there. “So’s Gary. I can’t fend them off forever.”
Brennan leveled a look on his longtime agent. “Why not, Phil? That’s what you’re here to do—fend people off so I can have a little space.”
“Dude, we all have to make a living,” Phil had said testily, and had turned his attention to the window again.
Brennan marveled at it. He’d been out of pocket for what, six or seven weeks? Everyone around him acted like he’d been stranded for years on a desert island.
Kate Resnick and two of her assistants invited Brennan onto the back terrace with a view of the ocean. She served freshly made lemonade and gourmet canapés. “I love the direction you’ve outlined,” she said to Brennan. “The narrative looks really good. Could we hear something?”
“Sure,” Brennan said. “It’s rough yet, but I’m close.” He played “Come Closer” on his guitar. He still wasn’t completely satisfied with the song, but when he finished, he looked up at the small group assembled. He was expecting smiles of approval. No o
ne was smiling. They were staring at him, expressionless. A clammy feeling of uncertainty overcame him in that moment. Could he have been so wrong about the music? Was this what happened when he went solo?
“My God,” Kate said at last. “That was . . . masterful.”
“Did I tell you?” Phil all but shouted. “I told you!”
Sweet relief swept over Brennan. “So it’s good?” he asked sheepishly.
“Good? I want that on my iPhone right now,” Kate said, stabbing her finger against the table.
From there, discussions began about Brennan’s involvement with the film. They used the script as an outline, and went through it line by line, talking about the music both Kate and Brennan envisioned.
They talked most of the afternoon and broke for dinner around seven. It was late on the East Coast, but Brennan excused himself. His text to Mia—How are you—went unanswered. Another hour passed and Brennan stepped outside to call her. It rolled to voice mail. So he texted her again. Please call me when you can. I’ll explain everything.
Nothing.
The next day, as Brennan gathered up his things to leave, a maid knocked on the door of his room and said someone had come to see him. For one heart-stopping moment, Brennan thought it was Mia, that she’d somehow found out where he was.
“He’s downstairs,” the maid said.
Not Mia. Brennan groaned. That would be just like Phil to get someone else up here to see him while he was in town. Probably someone from the label who Brennan would have to reassure that all was well.
He walked into the main living area. It was empty. He passed through the room and the doors that were open to the ocean breeze. Outside, near the pool, he saw a man in striped pants, a vest with fringe. His hair was tied up in a loose knot at his nape.
“Chance,” Brennan said.
Chance whirled around at the sound of his voice. His gaze flicked over Brennan. “Hey.”
“Phil told you I was here?” Brennan asked.
“No. But he told Gary, and Gary told me.”