Behind the Strings

by Courtney Giardina

  “You’re scaring me,” I said.

  “Can we sit down for a minute?” he asked.

  With my hands still in his he took me over to sit on a stone wall. Bits of water splashed us from the fountain we sat beside as I waited for him to say something. Anything at this point would have been fine. At least, that’s what I thought before he actually did.

  “Celia, about last night,” he paused, “that whole marriage talk…”

  “Oh please, you don’t need to apologize. You were drunk.”

  “No, see, that’s the thing. I know I was drunk, but…” Stop. Please stop. Don’t say it. Any of those would’ve been the vocabulary I wanted to use right then, but they wouldn’t come out. “These past few months, all those feelings I had that night I left Hamden, they all came flooding back. Or maybe it’s that they never left. I look at you and I see my everything. I see the girl I want to wake up next to every morning, the girl I want to hold in my arms as she falls asleep at night. You’ve always been my safe place, my escape when life gets crazy. You’re my calm through every storm. You are the love of my life. And I know you’re scared, but you don’t have to be, not with me. When you’re lonely and when you’re sad and when you’re afraid because you don’t know what comes next, I will be there to love you through it. So, I guess today, I’m asking you to let me.”

  I think my heart stopped beating for a split second after he was done. I sat there, as still as I could, gasping for air with long and slow breaths. I looked up at his hopeful eyes, full of real, true, genuine love and I wanted to die. I stared hard into them, wanting so badly in that moment for a part of me to feel the same. I thought maybe if I sat there long enough it would come to me, a sensation of everything he was feeling would flow through me and I too could tell him that he was the love of my life, but that feeling never came. As much as I loved Logan…I was not in love with him.

  “Logan, I…”

  “I know, it’s a lot to take in,” he interrupted.

  “Logan, I need to tell you something.”

  I had every intention right then to tell him about Jesse, but I couldn’t go through with it and snapped my mouth shut dumbly. I couldn’t do it. Not just for me, but for Logan and Jesse, too. Neither of them were ready for that. And at the moment Logan was most vulnerable? It wouldn’t be fair.

  “I need some time.” I said cowardly. “I have a lot going on right now and I need time to think about a lot of things.”

  “I understand,” he said, “take all the time you need.”

  He leaned in and kissed my forehead. Then we stood and hugged before we went our separate ways. Logan off to the first stretch of a long couple of weeks, and me to the only person I knew could help me through this tangled web I had gotten myself stuck in.

  37

  “He said what?!” Jaycie said.

  She must’ve jumped at least a foot when I told her about Logan’s confession. Even though I knew I didn’t need to repeat it, I did. The more I talked about it, the more it sunk in how utterly screwed up this whole situation was.

  “So let’s put aside the fact that I was right,” Jaycie said.

  “Oh shut up! This is not the time to gloat.”

  “I know. Let’s put that aside, I said, and put this all into perspective.”

  “Into perspective” basically meant three different scenarios that we could work out:

  Scenario #1: I tell Jesse that Logan is in love with me and he breaks things off because he doesn’t want to hurt one of his closest friends.

  Scenario #2: I keep Logan’s feelings from Jesse and if he finds out I knew, he’ll probably break things off because I lied.

  Scenario: #3: I wait for Logan to return and tell him about Jesse and me; if we still exist, he gets pissed and Jesse again breaks things off because he doesn’t want to hurt one of his closest friends.

  “Think of it this way,” Jaycie said, “if you wait for Logan to return, you at least get a little more time with Jesse. Then, if it doesn’t work out, you end things and no one gets hurt.”

  “And if it does work out?”

  “At least you get two extra weeks with him before all hell breaks loose?”

  My face fell into my hands. I didn’t know what the right thing was, but I did know that I didn’t want anyone to get hurt. I loved Logan as much as you could love someone without being in love with them. I didn’t love him the way he loved me, and maybe that made me a terrible person. After all he was to me, all he had been, and I was keeping this huge secret from him. One that I knew would hurt him. I knew it was wrong. I knew what I was doing with Jesse was wrong, but the way I felt, the way we were together, I couldn’t help it.

  “I’ll tell you what,” Jaycie said, “I have to go to the Opry tonight to write about a few up-and-comers making their debut. Come with me. We will make a day of it and forget about all of this and figure out how to deal with it tomorrow.”

  I knew forgetting wasn’t going to happen, but I decided to oblige anyway. No one can object to full day of pampering or a night at the Opry. We started with manis and pedis before pretending to be Julia Roberts in “Pretty Woman” at a few lush boutiques. Ninety percent of what we tried on we would have needed Richard Gere to pay for, but since he was nowhere to be found, we settled for a little less upscale wardrobe that was still exquisite in our books.

  Our hair and makeup appointments ended with just enough time to head back to Jaycie’s to slip into our dresses before our chauffeur pulled into the driveway. We rode in the back of a sedan driven by Jaycie’s driver, Victor. He was a gray-haired man who spent most of the time talking to us about his coin collection. Every now and then we’d tune him out in the politest way possible to engage in our own conversation.

  “So how much did you pay for Victor?” I asked.

  “Uh, I didn’t pay anything, Frankie did.”

  “Wait, what? Frankie got you a driver?”

  “Well she doesn’t know it yet, but yup, she did.”

  “Oh lord, Jaycie.”

  Not that I thought Frankie would have a conniption, but Jaycie was totally one of those people with the “it’s easier to ask for forgiveness than permission” mindset. She had gotten pretty good at it over the years. First class flights, rounds of cocktails for “clients,” and even the espresso machine in the break room. I was secretly jealous she was so bold, but on nights like tonight at least I got to reap the benefits.

  All access passes awaited our entry and I followed Jaycie backstage to see her in action. To my surprise, once we pushed our way through the sea of staff, I found Jesse, dressed in a dark gray shirt with the top button undone, sitting on an amp, tuning a guitar. I watched him for a minute, maybe two. It was in that silence I realized the two very different parts Logan and Jesse played in my life. That sense of calmness in the middle of a storm, my anchor when the tide was rough…for the little girl whose father left her all alone, Logan was both of those things. But that little girl grew up, and for the woman I was right here, right now, I found a new calmness and a new anchor in Jesse. And more, something I’d never found in anyone before then. I waited until he set the guitar down before walking over.

  “Hey, you,” I said. “What are you doing here?”

  “My god.” He jumped up and I watched his eyes linger over me from head to toe. “You…you look stunning. Is it wrong that the only thing I want to do right now is take that dress off of you?”

  “Jesse,” I whispered, blushing.

  “I know, sorry.” He changed the subject back to my original question. “I’m playing back-up tonight. One of my friend’s guitar players got sick last-minute, so I’m filling in.”

  “I see. I’m just someone’s plus one, not actually invited.”

  “Plus one?”

  I turned and pointed to Jaycie. His shoulders settled at the sight of her and he threw his guitar pick at me before standing up and quickly kissing the tip of my nose before he was called over to the stage entrance.

  J
aycie and I found our seats before the show began and I spent the rest of the night doing exactly what Jaycie had set out for me to do in the first place. The worry of what would happen when Logan found out about Jesse and Jesse found out about Logan’s confession…none of it surfaced. All I did was stare at Jesse and think about how handsome he was up on that stage and how happy he made me. The last thing on my mind was the possibility that this feeling was only temporary. That there would be a day I would wake up and it would all be gone.

  38

  It had been a whirlwind of a week. After Logan left, work was crazy and I really didn’t have much time to sit down and think about whether or not I was going to tell Jesse about Logan’s feelings for me. When Saturday afternoon had come around, I was running out of time. I had made plans with Jesse to come over that evening and if I was going to tell him, it was going to be then.

  While I was at the store that afternoon, I went back and forth about my decision. If I didn’t tell Jesse because I didn’t want to lose him, that was a selfish choice. I was the only one who had anything to gain if I made that decision. However, if I did tell him, I was positive tonight would be the end for us.

  I cringed at both scenarios and tossed a package of uncooked chicken in the cart. I couldn’t remember the last time I had had real food in my cart. I smiled at my ambitiousness to make a home-cooked meal for the guy I adored. On days Mama was in a hurry to get to work or there was minimal time between schoolwork and gymnastics practice, she would always throw together a good ol’ chicken pot pie, so it’s the first thing I thought of. Though I wasn’t going to try to impress him by attempting a homemade crust, I was still excited to whip out some southern comfort.

  In the middle of chopping celery, my phone rang and I was shocked to see it was Logan. I hadn’t heard from him since he left, which I had expected. I wiped my hand on my jeans and slid the phone open to speaker.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, what are you up to?” he asked.

  “I am actually chopping up some celery,” I said feeling liberated.

  “I’m sorry, can you say that again?” I could hear the mocking tone in his voice. “I must have heard that wrong.”

  “You did not hear that wrong,” I said with a twinge of attitude. “I’m making chicken pot pie.”

  “What in the world made you decide to cook a pot pie?” he asked.

  “Oh, you know…” I said, wavering, then said something vague about having some people over and how it wouldn’t be very hospitable of me to serve pizza. Even though I technically didn’t lie, I stretched the truth a little. He agreed and told me how proud he was of me for acting like a grownup. There was no mention in our conversation about the “L” word, but he did have something else to throw at me.

  “Besides the chicken pot pie, guess what else you have in the oven?” Logan said.

  I thought for a minute, assuming I was missing the joke. Logan let me hang on to my thoughts a little while longer before he revealed the answer. He had received a call from his publicist about the newest episode of “Nashville Nights.” It seemed that Hunter Jennings was at it again. Logan asked me if I was sitting down, and my heart began to race a bit as I pulled out the stool from behind the island.

  “I’m having a what?!” I exclaimed.

  I placed my hand over my stomach. Sure I hadn’t been working out as much lately, unless you count the bedroom calories I’d been burning (which surely made up for it) but even still, did I really look like I was pregnant?

  “You are not fat, Celia, stop it,” Logan assured me. “These guys grasp at anything, remember? My publicist actually had me post a couple tweets mocking the story, so don’t worry, we’ve got it under control. I just wanted to let you know so you weren’t caught off-guard.”

  I thanked him for the heads-up and we talked a few more minutes before hanging up. I pressed the phone against my chest when the call was over trying to wrap my head around it all. As if I didn’t already have enough to deal with in my real life, I had to worry about the life people were making up for me as well. I mean, really: me, having a baby. I shook it off and went back to chopping, mixing and stuffing my pot pie before putting it in the fridge so I could go get ready. Since we were staying in, I decided to keep it simple. I plumped my hair up with some hot rollers and slipped on a pair of white lace shorts and black crop top.

  I plopped the pie in the oven right before Jesse arrived. I opened the door to find his face hidden by a gorgeous bouquet of lilies. I fell into him with a kiss and squeezed my arms around his neck. It was amazing how much I had missed him after only a few days.

  “Here, come in,” I said. “I’ll get these in some water.”

  “It smells amazing in here. What are you cooking?”

  “A woman never tells her secrets,” I said.

  The lilies looked perfect in the center of the island. With both of our hands now free, I wrapped myself into Jesse’s strong embrace. The one thing I loved the most was the way he lifted me off the ground with barely any effort at all. I could wrap my legs around him and look him in the eyes without straining my neck at the obvious height difference. His lips were soft on my neck each time they fell upon it until finally they collided with mine.

  “How much longer until dinner is done?” he whispered.

  I looked back at the oven timer and was pretty sure we could make it work. Jesse carried me to the living room and pushed every worry out of mind as he laid me on the couch. If it was all going to fall apart tonight, I needed this one more time. His hands teased their way under my shirt and when they grabbed a hold of my breasts I could feel my back arch, thrusting myself closer into him. My tongue slipped deeper and harder into his the more I yearned for him.

  He pulled away from me and slid his lips back down my neck and over my shirt, stopping at my bare stomach. Slowly he kissed every inch of it from left to right and back again before he replaced his hands with his tongue as he lifted my shirt higher. My body was now trembling underneath him, his hand sliding up my inner thigh. I could feel the rush inside of me and just as I heard my voice cry out his name, the sound of the oven timer ripped me from my glory. Jesse’s head fell onto my chest.

  “Dinner’s ready,” I said, cringing.

  We both moaned. Jesse peeled himself up off of me and reached out to pull me up. The aroma coming from the oven was almost as heavenly as the moment it interrupted and the top of the crust was perfectly golden. Still breathing heavy, I pulled it out. From the outside it looked like I had pulled it off, but the real test was still to come.

  Jesse poured us some wine that almost matched the color of his flushed skin while I lit the never-used candles that graced my dining room table before scooping out a piece of pie for each of us. The steam escaped as I set each one onto a plate, but the insides were holding together pretty well.

  “It looks delicious,” Jesse said, stabbing it with his fork.

  I watched him closely with my wine glass to my lips. He blew on it a few times to cool it off and then took the heaping bite into his mouth. I held my breath. He chewed slowly. I watched his eyes deep in concentration.

  “Wow, Celia, that is really good. Are you sure you made this?”

  I winced. “Yes, I made this!”

  “I’m only kidding. Honestly, try it, you did well.”

  Jesse was right, I had done pretty well. The pot pie was delicious; we both even had seconds and another glass of wine before he helped me clean up and we settled back down onto the couch. This time, though, was a little more slow-paced. I lay on his chest with my feet curled onto his lap while we watched reruns of “It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia.” I’d never seen it before, but we laughed our way through most of season one before the wine started to kick in.

  “Somebody’s tired,” he said.

  The oversized yawn must’ve given it away. I lifted myself up and with my half-opened eyes shook my head. He laughed at me as he took my head in his hands and kissed my forehead.

&
nbsp; “Come on, pretty,” he said.

  I felt his hands slip underneath me. I leaned into him as he lifted me off the couch. After he sat me onto the bed I watched him stare as I slowly pulled my shorts off and dropped them to the floor. As I lifted my shirt up over my head I suddenly no longer felt as tired. I looked at him, standing still in front of me.

  “Are you coming to bed?” I asked.

  He didn’t say a word. He just stared at me as he loosened his belt buckle. Soon the both of us were half-naked on the bed, melted underneath the covers. Jesse’s hand stroked the sides of my ribs. Every now and then he would hit the side of my hip and I would jolt away from him. That was the only part of my body that was ticklish. I couldn’t help but laugh each time.

  “God, you’re beautiful,” he said.

  With those words my decision was made. I couldn’t tell Jesse. I didn’t want to lose him. When Logan came back I would be honest with him. I would confess everything and make him understand. It was going to be okay. I was going to fix all of it and Jesse and Logan and I, we were going to be all right.

  Once I convinced myself of my solution, I lay there with Jesse, our bodies warm against each other. I rubbed the scruff of his cheeks and we stared into each other’s eyes. There was nothing more that needed to be said that night. Wrapped up tightly in each other, we fell asleep that night with a galaxy full of stars as witness to our happiness.

  39

  I woke up the next morning to the sound of a guitar playing softly through the hall. I rolled over to find the other side of the bed empty and smiled as I listened to the melody. When it stopped, I slid out of bed, wrapped myself in my robe, and walked out to the living room where Jesse was sitting with a familiar old guitar in his lap.

  “I hope you don’t mind,” he said.