Peyton lies back too next to me and watches the baby’s funny reactions to me. “She’s in love with you already, you can see it in her eyes. Look how they twinkle and shine,” Peyton says.
It’s her eyes that remind me of Peyton and I find I can’t look away from them. Just like Peyton, this little wench has sucked me in and now I’m lost. She coos and reaches out, touching my face and squeezing it and Peyton laughs.
I look over at her and nearly feel like crying at how fucking much I love her. I shake my head and hand the baby to her. “Here, take her. I have to use the bathroom.”
She takes the baby and gives me a strange look. “Isn’t that where you were when I walked in, Kip?”
I haul ass to the bathroom without answering her. Cold water I splash over my face as I fight to regain some composure. I should leave now. I can’t take this.
When I go back out ready to pack up and leave I find Peyton is gone. And now I feel alone and sad and find myself falling onto the bed. Never have I felt so torn.
The door opens and in walks Peyton and she’s looking pissed and maybe this is for the best. A fight will help me to go. This is just what I need. I hope she’s mean and makes this real easy.
Peyton
Kip is acting so odd and I find myself growing angry. This is more than just finding our need for each other unhealthy, so much more. He can’t even play with my niece with me. It seems almost as if he hates me. If that’s the case then he can just take his ring and car and leave.
Will my heart be broken? Fuck yes it will, but it’ll mend. The sooner the better if that’s his intentions.
I stomp over to him as he lies face down on the bed. I open my mouth, prepared to tell him to leave if he hates me. My hands land on my hips and he sits up, seemingly preparing to do battle.
His eyes narrow and his lips form a thin line. I glare into them and see the hint of a tear and promptly fall apart. My knees hit the floor as my tears flow like rivers down my cheeks. I lay my head on his knees and sob like a child.
“What’s happening to us?” I ask in ragged breaths.
“The truth?” he asks.
I pull my head up and look at him to find tears running down his cheeks. “No, lie to me.”
He smiles a crooked smile. “I’m afraid of this. What we have.”
I laugh. “Me too.”
I climb up on the bed and sit next to him, taking his hand in mine. He kisses my hand. “It’s overwhelming, Peyton. It’s much too soon to feel this much I think. I looked at that baby and the first thing I thought was I wonder if ours will be as cute as she is.”
I rest my head on his shoulder. “Ours will be even more adorable. She’ll have your eyes and my hair. And before you say a word, I know this is too fast. This whole thing has moved too fast and our hold on one another is too tight.”
“So you’ll understand that I have to go,” he says and my heart breaks into a million pieces.
I pull the ring off and hand it to him. I get up and take the keys from my purse and place them in his hands. “Here you go then. Thanks for the fun times, Kip. I had a blast, and you taught me more than I could’ve ever imagined. Now go on out there and be the rock star you are. Forget about me, forget about this whole thing.”
I walk towards the door and his voice stops me. “Peyton, I’m sorry.”
Without looking back, I flash him the peace sign and walk out of the hotel room and keep walking without looking back.
Kip
It’s Thanksgiving and I’m doing the second to last show before our December break. Sometime in the first week of January I have to decide if I want to sign back up with Silas. He’s kept us busy and I have to admit he helped me through the break up with Peyton.
The first week I couldn’t sleep and cried a lot. So he brought in a doctor and got me some sleeping pills and anti-anxiety pills. After a mere three months I was able to stop taking them.
Does the woman still cross my mind? Only every day and two or three times every night, but I handle it a lot better than I did at first. I sold the car I bought her. It held too many memories and I have thirteen cars at home anyway.
I’m getting geared up to spend the Christmas holiday with Max and his family. I’m getting the twins little ponies. Zoey should lose her little mind. I’ve been shopping online as we’ve traveled and have had presents sent to my place in L.A. for all of them.
I hate to admit it, but I even bought some for Peyton. I don’t know why. I suppose I’m a huge idiot. She’d never take me back.
The gig is in Seattle and it is raining. The rain always brings me down. It’s the type of weather when one thinks about staying in bed all day and I can’t do that anymore. I can barely stay in a bed at all. I sleep on the sofa a lot. It’s small and there’s no empty space where another body should be.
With the hood up on my black jacket I walk along the sidewalk. No one recognizes me, not that anyone can even see me as I walk along. It’s dark, but lights shine from the different stores.
I slow down and look inside the window of a book store. There are several books sitting upright on a table inside. One of the covers has a man looking up into a night sky, full of stars. The title is, ‘Star Struck’ and the name of the author is K. Reed.
A little sign on the table says there’s a book signing by the authors of all the books on that table tomorrow. It says they’re all new authors and everyone should come and welcome them to the literary world.
I walk on and think about how Peyton said she wanted to write romance novels and wonder how that’s going for her. She was going to find an agent, I wonder how that went.
Her brother, Tyler, I did check on and he made a full recovery and has a little boy now. Silas has his ways of finding out tidbits of information for me. It’s hard because I want to forget about them all so bad, but can’t.
Why is it that some people come and go out of your life without you thinking about them all the time and sometimes never again?
Peyton lingers, her family lingers and there are times when I think I can smell her. I know I’m crazy and that’s exactly why it had to end. It was all too crazy. No one should have that much hold over another person, ever.
My cell rings and I look to find Max calling. “Hey there, bloke,” I say as I answer.
“Hi, Hunky Kip,” Zoey’s sweet little voice greets me.
My voice goes all high as I hear it’s her. “Hey, baby girl. How’s my best girl?”
She giggles and melts my heart. “I’m good and being good too.”
Her brother’s voice I can hear in the background, shouting, “Nu uh, she ain’t being good! She hit me in the face.”
“You better be quiet, Zane or I’ll do it again!” she shouts straight into the phone.
“Zoey,” I say. “That’s not nice to hit your brother.”
“Well, he ‘served it. He told me you ain’t gettin’ me no pony,” she says sulkily.
I’m not sure if I can hold onto my secret if she keeps up this torture. “Santa has to bring it, but he only will if you’re good. Hitting your brother is not good.”
“Oh! I’m sorry! I’ll never do it no more and I’ll give ‘em my ‘sert for the rest of my life,” she says and I believe she will.
“Maybe that’ll help. We’ll have to wait and see if that works, won’t we?”
“Dad wants to talk to you. Bye, I love you,” she says.
“Thanks man, she decked Zane good, the little monster,” Max says.
“Girls,” I say. “Can’t live with ‘em.”
Max adds, “Can’t live without ‘em.”
I laugh but it kind of hits at that empty spot in my soul Peyton used to fill. “So, still on for Christmas then?” I ask.
“Sure, buddy. That girl would kill me in my sleep if she doesn’t get to see her hunky Kip.” He laughs and I hear Lexi ask him something.
“Tell, Lexi hi for me,” I say as I find I miss her and how she talks so freely. Peyton was free like her. Peyton
was a lot like her.
“Oh, this may be a touchy subject,” Max says. “So tell me if you don’t want to hear it, it’s about Peyton.”
I stop walking and think on it a second. “Yeah, I want to hear it.”
“Lexi went to the mall a few weeks ago and Peyton was there,” he says.
“In Houston?” I ask.
“Yeah, she was at a book signing with a group of young authors. They’re on a tour around the states. She had no idea of who Lexi was, but you sent us those pictures of you two and Lexi recognized her. Lex bought her book and noticed the name and how she signed her copy was K. Reed. I guess she’s using a pen name.”
I move forward slowly. “The name of the book?”
“Star Struck, Lexi and I read it. It sounds a hell of a lot like your story.”
“Oh, yeah. Did my character come off as a jerk?” I ask with a laugh, but my stomach hurts like I was just punched.
“Nope, a real confused young rock star who didn’t realize he wanted to be anything but one. Chip and Hayden got married and lived happily ever after with three kids and a dog named Petey.” Max’s words come out jokingly, but they make me want to cry.
“Well, what do you know about that? I told the girl that hanging out with me would help her be a better writer. Turns out I was right. Good for her,” I say and feel like I may fall apart. “Hey, I’ll look that book up. And talk to you soon, Max. Bye.”
I hang up and find myself in a daze. Seems she was able to get closure with the writing of that book. I bet she’s done with any feelings she had for me. Odd, she’ll be right here in this very town tomorrow.
I turn back around and go back to the bookstore and purchase the book. I’d like to see just how our pretend lives turned out. I hope she made my character good looking.
Peyton
My back is aching as the tour bus pulls into the motel parking lot in Seattle, Washington. The new author book tour doesn’t have us staying in the type of accommodations big wigs stay in. The little motels offer subpar mattresses, and my back is not happy. Thank the Lord this is the second to the last stop. The next one is in Los Angeles.
After that, back home we all go from LAX. My first plane ride and I’m already nervous. I’m nervous about L.A. period.
That’s where Kip lives. Not sure if he’ll be home, but it is his town and though extremely unlikely, we may run into each other and if he sees me I don’t know how that will go.
Do I miss him? Like the desert misses the rain. But he and I have a crazy dependency on each other. Not only is it unhealthy, but it’s not a thing he wants.
It is a little hard for me to take that he hasn’t called or texted even once. But he must have his reasons. Whatever the hell they are. I have mine for not trying to get in touch with him as well.
The first month was the hardest. I didn’t sleep much. Then one night I did. After that it got easier and easier to be alone. Not that I’m ever really alone.
I found it therapeutic to write a fictitious story about Kip and I and what we had. It was brilliant and brief, much like a shooting star. But the effects will last a lifetime.
I wonder if he ever even thinks about me.
As I go into my small motel room, I flip on the television. The local evening news is on and I sit on the edge of the bed and watch it. I’m curious as to what type of weather we’ll have for tomorrow’s book signing.
This is Seattle after all, so I suppose rain is in the forecast. Like always. A commercial comes on and I turn to unpack my bag and pull the dress I’ll be wearing tomorrow out and hang it up.
Music fills the air as the commercial comes on and I look over my shoulder to see the words, ‘Kip Dixon’ on the screen. The music is from one of his songs and it seems he’s playing a concert right here tonight.
Why did my stomach just flip?
It’s not like I could go if I wanted to. He hasn’t attempted to contact me in the last six months. It’s obvious he’s put me out of his mind and behind him. Just as I feared would happen.
For some damn reason I feel more alone than ever and tears just start flowing. I sit down and start bawling like a little girl who just found out her puppy got ran over. I feel so stupid, it was just his damn name!
I must be hormonal or something!
Even though the commercial is over, I turn the television off. I can’t risk seeing the commercial again. I go to the bathroom and start filling up the bathtub. I’ll take a nice bath and soak my memories of him away.
Kip
The concert was lackluster in my opinion. I tried to pump up the energy, but it seemed to be sapped out of me. It just wasn’t there and I don’t know if I can find it.
I wonder if she’s in town yet.
I wish I hadn’t deleted her phone number. That was rash and completely uncalled for. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.
Why am I so afraid to love someone so much it makes me weak?
I’ve showered all the crap off me and see the book she wrote lying on the nightstand by the bed. My eyes fall on it and I can’t move.
A knock comes at the door. “Who is it?” I shout.
“Bobby, come on let’s drink, mate. I have a bottle of tequila out here.”
I glance at the door and then back at the book. “Rain check, mate. Good night.”
He grumbles some unkind words and I flop down on the bed and open the book. The first thing I notice is the dedication page.
‘This is for my falling star. What we had burned bright and ended way too soon. Just so you know, I’d do it all again anyway. No matter how painful it turned out, what you gave me was priceless. I will cherish what we had, and all you taught and gave me forever. Keep burning bright and may a love you can bear find you one day.’
Damn girl! Is she trying to make me cry?
I wipe the unshed tears from my eyes and start on chapter one. And would you looky here, there’s guitars on either side of the chapter. Little nuances of me are probably all through this.
I wonder if by writing this it made her completely get over me.
An idea comes to me and I flip to the end of the book to see if she has a web page or something. There’s a fan website. I grab my laptop and look it up.
Her sweet face pops up on the screen. There she is and now I really want to cry. I touch the screen and wish that I could feel her soft skin under my fingertips. She’s glowing and even more beautiful than I remember.
I join her fan club and write a comment.
Enjoyed your book. I think I know the couple you were writing about. They remind me of a relationship I had once, but fear fucked it all up. Anyway, I am your new number one fan. And always will be. I hope you find love too, P. Reed. I thought it clever to use a K as your first initial, I get it.
I know she doesn’t read this stuff, but it makes me feel slightly better to write it anyway. Somehow it feels like we are still in communication. I wonder if she’d like that.
As I go through her website I see that the book tour she’s on ends in Los Angeles the day after tomorrow. It’s at Skylight Book Store near Hollywood.
I laugh out loud as I recall how her brothers called me Hollyweird. She called me Pop Rock, and I secretly loved it. She stopped calling me that though towards the end. It was as if she was gaining respect for my music.
It makes me feel like writing a song about her since she wrote a book about me. It’s only fair after all. If she can mimic Taylor Swift then so can I.
Grabbing the small pad of paper and a pen from the nightstand, I write down the things that stick out in my mind about her. First I write, ‘Summer Girl’. That’s what I think about when I allow myself to relive our short time together. Her hair is blonde and reminds me of the summer sun.
Our camping trip and the river also remind me of summer. Her naturally tanned skin and long, toned legs. Well, they just remind me how good they felt when they wrapped around me.
I shake my head to clear it. This is a bad idea. It will only lead me
to dream about her, and that always ends with me waking up and grabbing at the bed to find her. And she’s never there and never will be again.
Part 8 Hidden Star
Kip
A clattering sound echoes in the hotel hallway. I assume it’s the breakfast I ordered from room service and open my door to see it isn’t. A maid seems to have dropped her vacuum cleaner and a short man comes down the hall with the food I ordered.
“Good morning, Mr. Dixon,” the man calls out as he approaches me. “Fine morning, don’t you agree?”
I have a bit of a hangover from a little too much partying after last night’s show. I haven’t done a lot of it, but with Peyton in the same town as me, I kind of freaked out and drank too much.
“It’s okay,” I mumble as I hold the door open so he can come in and set the stuff on the table.
He hands me the newspaper as he walks by. “See you had yourself a good bit of fun last night.”
“It was okay, nothing great,” I say and open the paper to see my fake face on the front page. There’s Gina, an old kind-of girlfriend of mine who surprised us by coming on stage and singing a number with me. After the song ended, she kissed me, yet another unwelcome surprise.
“You should read what the reporter wrote,” the little man says as he places the crepes and coffee on the table.
I scan the article to find the writer is a douche bag. He says that I’ve seemed to have moved on from the plain Jane I announced I’d be marrying six months ago. He says how she’s disappeared off the face of the Earth and added an unnecessary, good riddance. Then he goes on to make claims that me and Gina are on again and hotter than ever.
“Bastard!” I shriek. “This could not come at a worse time.”
“The media is not always so kind, are they?” the man asks as he leaves the room.
The Naughty One: A Doctor’s Christmas Romance (Season of Desire Book 2) Page 33
