by Monroe, Max
“No, I’m not.”
“Oh, yes, you are.”
I sigh. She’s right. I am stubborn. But I get it honest. Our granny was worse than a fucking mule.
“Will you at least tell me you’ll call him?” she questions.
“I’ll think about it.”
“Seriously, Billie?” she whines. “God, if a man ever did something like that for me, I’d be getting on the next flight to wherever the fuck he is and going there.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I’m not being ridiculous. I’m being one-hundred-percent real here,” she insists. “Right now, you have the possibility of the kind of love people search their whole fucking lives for. It’s what Momma and Daddy had. You’re the one being ridiculous. You should be running toward him, not running away from him.”
“I’m not running away from him,” I argue. “You know exactly why I came to West Virginia before heading to New York—you know, where he’ll be too.”
“I know visiting Momma and Daddy’s grave every year is an important thing for you, but Lord knows they’d understand if you skipped out of town right now. Hell, Momma would’ve encouraged it.”
“Yeah, but Daddy would be annoyed. Probably demand to meet Luca himself and put him through the wringer.”
Birdie giggles. “True story.”
“All right, I need to go,” I say, but she chimes right in.
“For fuck’s sake, at least tell me you’re going to call him.”
“I told you I’d think about it.”
“Billie!”
“Bye, Birdie! Love you!”
I end the call before she can get in another word.
And not even thirty seconds later, a text message chimes through.
Birdie: If you don’t at least call him, I’ll be forced to take this into my own hands.
I laugh to myself.
What is she going to do? Call the police on me?
Pfft. Pretty sure they don’t arrest you for being confused.
Billie
In order to eventually cross the finish line to destiny, you have to try to run in the right direction. Luckily for me, those country roads I’m always talking about really know where they’re going.
Today is bittersweet.
I wake up in my old bedroom, happy to spend some time at my childhood home, but I also can’t help but feel incredibly melancholy.
Granny isn’t here to greet me with a cranky hello. Birdie isn’t bitching at me about taking too long of a shower in the bathroom. The delicious smell of Granny cooking up some breakfast doesn’t fill my nose when I step into the kitchen.
And fifteen years ago on this very day, I waved goodbye to my smiling parents as my daddy pulled his pickup truck out of the driveway. It was their monthly date night, and my sister had promised to watch Dirty Dancing with me.
Once they were all the way down the dirt road and out of sight, Birdie took me inside the house, and Granny made us a snack.
I remember almost everything about that day.
I ate apples with peanut butter.
We watched Dirty Dancing.
Granny made us pancakes for dinner.
And the phone rang three times before our lives changed forever.
10:05 p.m. That’s when Granny answered the phone.
That’s when her face dropped.
That’s when tears starting dripping down her cheeks.
That’s when I knew—Momma and Daddy weren’t coming home.
Once I’m dressed in a flowy summer dress and my hair is dry, I apply a little blush and mascara and lipstick to my face and head for the door.
By the time I’m stepping out the front door, my phone pings with a text notification.
Butterflies flutter around inside my belly as I snag my phone from my purse and check the screen. But when I see it’s just a message from Birdie, inklings of disappointment replace the flurry of wings.
Why on earth would I be disappointed to hear from my sister? Today, of all days?
Probably because you’re hoping to hear from someone else…
I crinkle my nose in confusion when I read her text.
Birdie: Please don’t be mad at me.
Me: What are you talking about?
Birdie: Wait…where are you?
Me: Getting ready to walk to the cemetery.
Birdie: Oh…okay… Well, tell Momma and Daddy I say hello.
Me: Will do.
Birdie: And just remember that, when it comes to my baby sister, everything I do is out of love.
Me: Why do you keep talking in riddles? You’re freaking me out over here.
Birdie: No need for a freak-out. Just forget I said anything. Until later, then definitely remember what I said.
Me: Birdie, for the love of everything, what is going on?
Birdie: Oh man, I would love to keep chatting, but I have to go. I’ll call you later.
Me: BIRDIE.
Me: Seriously, Birdie?
On a sigh, I try to call her, but of course, it goes straight to voice mail.
What in the ever-loving hell was she just talking about?
After I try to call her three more times—all of them going straight to voice mail—I resign myself to really read her the riot act the next time I talk to her.
And then I take a deep breath, lock the front door behind me, and head out of the driveway and up the dirt road that leads to where my parents were laid to rest.
They say time heals all wounds, but even after all these years, when I step into the grass of the cemetery and head toward my parents’ gravestones, the wounds are still there. Deep and jagged scars, they might not be open and bleeding, but they’re still painful all the same.
“Hey, Momma. Hey, Daddy.”
I stare down at their gravestones and stifle a sob.
“I miss y’all something fierce. Every day. Every single day.”
No child should lose their parents at the age of nine. Neither my sister nor I were dealt the easiest hands when it came to our childhood. It was incredibly hard losing our parents at such a young age. There were so many milestones and life experiences and happy times and sad times we had to experience without them.
“Birdie says hi. I know she misses you too.”
I run my fingers across their gravestones and sit down.
“I’m still living in LA. Birdie is still in Nashville. She’s currently getting ready to go on a three-month tour, making a name for herself in the country music scene. God, you guys would be so proud of her.”
I run my fingers through the grass.
“And I saw you, Momma. I saw a video of you. Your one and only acting gig. God, you were so beautiful. So perfect.”
I sigh and stare down at the words etched on the gravestones.
“A man named Luca Weaver sent it to me,” I whisper and proceed to tell them all about the roller coaster ride that is Luca and me. I tell them about my trip to Alaska and how we started out hating each other, but somehow, along the way, it changed. I tell them I fell in love with him, but that he broke my heart. And I tell them how I thought I was going to lose my job, but he ended up coming to LA to do the movie.
I tell them how Luca’s been the past several weeks.
I tell them that he told me he loved me.
“I love him too, but I’m just scared.” I whisper the truth. “If he broke my heart again, I feel like I wouldn’t be able to survive it.”
I sigh and swipe at the tears falling down my cheeks.
“God, I think about you guys all the time. I wonder what it would be like if you were still here. Daddy, I hope we’d still listen to John Denver and Patsy Cline together in the evenings. Momma, I hope we’d still spend Sundays making biscuits and jam in Granny’s kitchen because she has the best stove.”
I sit there for a long while, flat on my back beside their gravestones. The sun hovers over my face and legs, and I just shut my eyes and soak in the warmth of this summer day.
&nbs
p; I don’t know how much time has passed, but eventually, it’s time to go.
I’ve said everything I needed to say.
“Until next year,” I whisper and blow them both a kiss. “Love you.”
I place a gentle hand to each of their gravestones, silently tell them goodbye, and head back toward the dirt road home.
But I only make it halfway through the grass before I’m stopping again.
I’m not alone.
He’s here.
Luca, standing right there, at the edge of the grass, near what must be his rental car.
Luca is here. In West Virginia.
Thank everything.
I don’t think.
Instead, I just run.
But this time, I go in the right direction.
Luca
The only constant in life is change. Because if you’re not changing, you’re dying.
The instant she spots me standing here, not too far from where she sat for a long time, right beside her parents’ graves, she stops. Blinks several times.
My heart catches in my throat as I wait for her to react.
I even start to open my mouth to call out to her, but she surprises me. Between one breath and the next, she is on the move, running toward me, and she doesn’t stop until she crashes into my arms.
Thank fuck. Relief fills my chest, and my eyes shine with emotion as I hold her as tight as I can.
When she is in my arms, all is right with the world.
“How did you know I was going to be here?” she whispers, looking up at me with tears sheening her eyes. “How did you know?”
“I received a phone call from a very persistent woman named Birdie.”
Her jaw falls open. “My sister called you?”
“She did.” I nod, a smile on my lips. “She yelled at me for a good five minutes, told me she’d rip my balls off if I ever hurt you again, and then, once she gave me a chance to tell her how I really feel about you, that I’m in love with you, she told me you’d be here.”
“You’re joking.”
“Nope.” I shake my head, brushing my nose with hers. “Once I got off the phone with her, I booked a flight. And here I am.”
She stares into my eyes for a long moment. “You remembered what I told you about my mother,” she whispers. “How did you remember?”
“When it comes to you, I remember everything.”
“But I don’t understand…” She pauses, and I don’t hesitate to pull her closer into my arms and just hold her.
Fuck, she feels so good.
So…right.
Before Billie, I didn’t think I needed anyone or anything.
I was a man who was content to be isolated from the world.
But then this pint-sized woman came barreling into my life with her cute country twang and her big green eyes and her fucking sassy persistence.
And then…everything changed for me.
She changed me.
“Country roads, take me home,” I whisper into her ear, repeating the words she once told me her dad would say about her mom, and she leans back to look up into my eyes. “Don’t you get it, princess? You’re the game changer for me. You’re the only person who makes me want to be a better man. Billie Jane Harris, you’re it for me.”
Tears flood her eyes.
“I’m not certain about a lot of things, but I’m certain about you. I love you, princess, and wherever you are is where I want to go.”
The emotions slip from her eyelids and down her cheeks.
“I love you too,” she whispers, and her lip trembles. “So much, Luca. So much.”
I lean down and press my lips to hers, taking her mouth in a soft, tender kiss.
She loves me.
Thank fuck.
Billie
For me, life really has always been a song. But now, it finally seems like someone else can hear the music.
Luca surprises me by pulling onto the dirt road that leads to my granny’s house, and I tilt my head to the side in confusion. “Wait…how did you know where to go?”
He grins at me. “Oh, trust me, Birdie gave me all the details.”
“Good God, I swear, I should be pissed at her for calling you, but I’m glad she did,” I say and flash a soft smile at him. “Although I’m pretty sure this gives me free rein in the future. The next time she falls in love, I’ll be making some fucking phone calls.”
He laughs at that and pulls the car to a stop in front of Granny’s old house.
We get out, and he stops in front of the house, staring up at it in awe.
“So, this is where Billie Harris grew up.”
“It sure is.” I smile and reach out to hold his hand. “Would you like the official tour?”
He kisses my forehead. “I thought you’d never ask.”
We step inside the house, and Luca doesn’t hesitate to let go of my hand and start exploring.
The living room. The kitchen. The back porch where we always used to drink Granny’s homemade lemonade in the summer. The big oak tree in the backyard that gives the perfect amount of shade.
“It’s small,” I comment. “Not nearly as big as your cabin or your LA digs.”
“It’s perfect.” He walks over to me and wraps his hands around my waist. “What everyone’s childhood home should look like.”
I grin up at him. “I’m glad you like it.”
“You want to know a secret?” he asks, and I nod.
“Of course.”
“I’m going to marry you someday.”
My heart does a little dance inside my chest. “Is that right?”
“Uh-huh.” He presses a little kiss to my lips. “What song is in your head right now?”
“‘God Only Knows’ by the Beach Boys.” My answer is immediate. “Although, when I was a little girl, I thought the song was about me. Billie Only Knows.”
“That’s fucking adorable.” His blue eyes brighten, and he reaches out to run his fingers across my cheek. “And one of a million reasons why I love you.”
“You love me?” I ask. I already know the answer, but now, I don’t think I will never grow tired of hearing him say it.
“More than anything.”
“Lucky in love?” I tease, and he smirks down at me.
“That’s cute,” he responds. “And very true.”
“My granny was obsessed with the idea of luck.”
Luca raises a brow, and I continue.
“She always thought if you were a Harris, you were either lucky in life or flat on your ass. There was no in-between, in her opinion,” I tell him as we walk back inside the house and into the living room. “She was so superstitious about Harris luck that when she won a four-million-dollar lottery jackpot, she didn’t touch the money and kept it a secret until she was on her deathbed. And then she told Birdie and me about it and told us she was passing the Harris luck on to us.”
“That is the craziest story I’ve ever heard.”
“Tell me about it,” I respond on a giggle. “My granny was a strange bird.”
“Is this one her?” he asks and picks up a photo from the mantel.
“It is.”
He takes in the rest of the photos on the wall and the mantel, pictures of Harris family reunions, photos of Birdie and me growing up, a beautiful shot of my parents. “You look so much like your mother,” he muses. “Green eyes. Blond hair. When I found that video clip, I almost thought it was you in that apron.”
“How did you find it?” I ask. “Birdie and I spent years trying to track that down, but we never could.”
A little smirk appears on his lips. “I have friends in high places.”
I giggle. “I figured you had a little help.”
But then my giggle stops, and I step toward him and wrap my arms around his trim waist. “Thank you,” I whisper and bury my face in his chest. “You have no idea how much that meant to me. And to Birdie.”
“You’re welcome,” he whispers into my hair. “When i
t comes to you, I’d do just about anything.”
“Anything?” I lean back and quirk a brow.
He nods. “Anything.”
“Like make-up sex in my childhood bedroom?”
His eyes turn heated, and he lifts me up in his arms and wraps my legs around his waist. “You want to be a bad girl, princess?”
“I have to be a little bad to keep up with Hollywood’s notorious bad boy.”
“Smartass.” He rolls his eyes and presses a kiss to my lips. “And now, you’re really going to get it.”
“Yes, please!” I exclaim, leaning my head back and fist-pumping the air. Several giggles follow my words.
Luca doesn’t waste any time after that.
Leading us down the hall and toward the back of the house.
“Which one is yours?” he asks, a fork in the road. Birdie’s bedroom and my bedroom, the only choices.
“Left.”
Between one breath and the next, Luca moves us from the hallway to my bedroom.
And it doesn’t take long before he’s tenderly undressing me and laying me back on the mattress.
“God, I love you,” he whispers, his lips starting a delicate path up my legs and my thighs and my belly.
“I love you too.”
He removes his clothes and then resumes his kisses.
My belly. My hips.
Right between my thighs where I ache and throb for him.
And then up my chest, across my breasts, until he stops at my mouth, his body hovering over mine.
Our eyes locked, Luca slides inside me, and I moan.
He takes it slow at first, but when our kisses grow erratic and my nails claw at his back, his smooth strokes turn to deep thrusts.
And he kisses and makes love to me in a way no one else can.
Only him. Always him.
Billie
Two months later…
The instant I step through the front door, the soft sounds of Patsy Cline fill my ears, and I smile. It’s a Saturday afternoon, and since we both have the day off from filming, I decided to go to the grocery store to grab a few things. Luca, being the famous celebrity that he is, decided to stay home and avoid the paparazzi.
