Love Notes

by Michelle Windsor

“Hello?” I yell into the phone.

  “Justin?” More music and loud noise. I look at the time, and it suddenly dawns on me that she’s at Kelly’s bachelorette party. “One second. I’m going somewhere I can talk!”

  I wait and finally hear her voice, background noise gone. “Justin? Can you hear me now?”

  “Yeah. Hey, babe. Sorry, I forgot about the party,” I say quietly.

  “I figured, but you haven’t called in a couple days, so…” She trails off, I’m sure waiting for me to fill in the blank about why I haven’t called.

  “Yeah, sorry. Andrea’s working me like a dog at the studio, and you said you wanted a little space, so I thought…” I try lamely.

  “Justin, we’re a thousand miles apart. I think that’s plenty of space.” I can hear the hurt in her voice, and it slices through me like a knife. “I’ve had plenty of space. I can’t wait to see you next week.”

  My stomach clenches as the next words tumble out. “Yeah, about that. I have some good news and some bad news.”

  I wait for her to say something, but all I get is silence, so I continue. “Andrea played my tracks to one of the big labels and they are really interested. They want to sign me.” I try to put some excitement into my announcement, but honestly, all I feel is scared of how she’s going to react next.

  “That’s amazing, babe. I’m so happy for you!” Her voice is full of joy at my news, and I cringe when the next words fly from my mouth.

  “But, Syd, they need me in L.A. next weekend to record some of the tracks. It’s the only time they have on the books.”

  “Next weekend? Like, Kelly’s wedding weekend?” All excitement is gone.

  “Babe, I tried like hell to get another date, but they insist it has to be next weekend.”

  “Tell them no.” Her voice is firm and matter-of-fact.

  “I can’t tell them no. What if this is my only chance?”

  “Justin, it won’t be your only chance. You cannot miss the wedding. I need you here next weekend. We have things we need to talk about. Big things.”

  I sigh, already wary that my career is putting me in this position. “I know. I know. We have lots we need to talk about, babe, and we will. I promise. I’m going to fly straight home from L.A., and we can drive back here and talk the entire ride to Brooklyn.”

  “No.”

  I rear back in surprise at the tone of her voice. “No?”

  “I need you here. It’s important, Justin. More than you realize. Tell them no. If they really want you, they’ll find another date.”

  I stammer out my confusion. “Syd, I can’t tell them no. It doesn’t work like that.”

  “It needs to work like that, Justin. You need to make a choice. Me or them.”

  I’m stunned at her response. I mean, I knew she was going to be mad, but I didn’t expect this level of anger or these demands from her. She’s always supported me and my dreams.

  “Syd, it’s you. You know, it’s always you. Please, try to understand,” I plead.

  “I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.” Her voice is shaky, and I know she’s about to cry. I think she’s also realizing that I won’t be able to give her what she’s asking.

  “I’ll be there two days after the wedding. I promise. You’re going to be so busy helping bridezilla that you won’t even notice I’m not there, okay? And we’re going to be together after that, every day.”

  “Justin, please, I’m begging you.” She’s crying now, and I shake my head in disgust at myself. I hate making her feel this way.

  “Two days, baby. Just add two more days to our count. It’s not that much longer.” In response, I can only hear her sniffling and weeping quietly. “Syd, talk to me.”

  She clears her throat and then finally responds. “I’ve gotta go. Bye, Justin.”

  “Wait, Syd! I don’t want to hang up like this!” I’m almost yelling now in desperation.

  “I’m at Kelly’s party. I have to go.” She sighs heavily.

  “Wait, wait!” I can’t hang up like this. “Have I told you lately that I love you?”

  Her voice cracks, and she scoffs. “Bye, Justin,” is her only response before the line goes dead.

  * * *

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  T en days later, I push through the front door to Hook’s, surprised to see Kelly standing behind the bar.

  “You’re late, asshole.” She’s glaring at me, and I know I’m in for so much shit. “Where the hell have you been?”

  “Aren’t you supposed to be on your honeymoon?” I respond dryly. I’m so not in the mood for this.

  “Next week. Remember, we delayed it so we wouldn’t be exhausted after the wedding?” She moves down and under the bar so she can be on the same side as me. “You really didn’t listen to anything Sydney told you, did you?”

  I roll my eyes. “Where is she, Kelly?”

  She raises her arms and shrugs, playing dumb. “Who?”

  I take two steps closer to her, my patience getting short. “Don’t play coy with me. Where’s Sydney? I went to the apartment, and it’s empty, and all my calls go straight to voicemail.”

  “A whole week? Isn’t that right around the time you told her no? When you told her you wouldn’t come back for my wedding, even though she begged you?” She’s jabbing her finger into my chest at the end of each question, and it hurts. I reach down and push it away.

  “Cut the shit, Kelly. I told her why I couldn’t come.”

  “Yeah, I heard all about it.” She scrunches up her eyes and mouth. “As she cried on my damn shoulder. Two days, two more days.” She pokes me in the chest. “It’s been five, Justin. Five days!”

  I blow out a frustrated breath and step back from her to stop the relentless poking. “I couldn’t help it. They wouldn’t let me leave.”

  “Wouldn’t let you leave?” she spits back at me. “You’re a grown ass man. If you want to leave, you just leave!”

  “I didn’t have a choice. If I’d have left, I would have lost the record deal.” I plead.

  She scoffs and throws me a glance that in no way shows any sympathy. “Well, now, you’ve lost a whole lot more, haven’t you?”

  My pulse pounds harder. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  She turns and faces me, a look of complete contempt on her face. “You made your choice, Justin. Now, she’s made hers.”

  “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I repeat, angry now, or maybe just afraid, and my skin breaks out in a cold sweat.

  “She’s gone,” she states matter of fact, like she’s telling me it’s raining out.

  “Gone?” I repeat, making sure I heard her correctly.

  “Gone. G.O.N.E. Gone.” She spells it out this time. I seriously want to choke her right now, but I need more answers.

  “Gone where?”

  “I guess, if she wants you to know, she’ll call you.” She spins around and walks back under the bar, which is probably a good thing, because I’m damn close to wrapping my hands around her neck and squeezing until she tells me where Syd is. “Oh, wait. She can’t call you, because after she hung up on you, she threw her damn phone against a wall. Might be why she’s not answering any of your calls, too.”

  I lift my brows in surprise, knowing Syd isn’t one to lose her temper like that. I’ll have to get her a new phone. I turn my attention back to Kelly. “You’re seriously not going to tell me where she is?” I’m shaking inside. This can’t be happening. I know I’m late, but I’m here. We can start our life together now.

  “Nope,” she sing-songs across the bar.

  “Thanks a fucking lot, Kelly,” I spit back, no longer caring if I piss her off.

  “You’re welcome.” Her face turns angry now. “Now, get the fuck out of my bar.”

  I know she’s not kidding, so I spin and stomp out of the bar, slamming the door behind me as I leave. “Fuck!” I scream loudly as I stand on the sidewalk, several people jumping when I do. I scowl at all of them, not gi
ving one ounce of shit, and make my way to my truck. I climb in and drive to her father’s house next. I’m scared as hell to face him, but it’s the only other place I think she might be.

  When I arrive, I frown. Her car isn’t in the drive, but I suppose she could be out running errands, so I get out of the truck and go knock on the front door. After a couple minutes, the door swings open, her dad in the doorway.

  “You.” He shakes his head and frowns. “Guess you better come in.”

  I follow him inside to the living room where he sinks back into his usual recliner. “So, what do you have to say for yourself?”

  Jesus, I thought Kelly was going to be tough. This is about a thousand times harder. I clear my throat and move to sit on the couch across from him. I’m surprised when I look down and see Simba twining in and out of my legs, purring loudly. My heart jolts in hope. “Is Sydney here, sir?”

  He looks around and then back at me. “Do you see her anywhere?”

  I raise my brows and rear back. Shit. Way harder than Kelly. I start again. “I know I missed the wedding. I know she’s obviously really mad, but I’m here now. I just want to find her so I can fix this and we can go back to Brooklyn.”

  “Son, I don’t think she’s going back to Brooklyn with you.” He presses his fingers into a steeple, resting his chin on it lightly, his eyes growing a little soft. “She made me promise not to tell you where she has gone, and as much as it pains me to see that look on your face right now, I have to honor my daughter’s wishes.”

  She’s not coming to Brooklyn with me? She doesn’t want me to know where she is? My heart is racing, along with my mind, and I shake my head in disbelief. “Wh—what?”

  I watch him rise and leave the room, unable to make myself get up, because if I do, it means I’m done. I don’t know where to go next. He comes back and sets a guitar case on the table in front of me, pointing to it. “She said to give this to you.”

  I stare at the case in front of me, completely dumbfounded, and then up at her dad, who shrugs. “I don’t know, son. I figured you would know.”

  Leaning forward, I finger the hard guitar case and then flip the three locks holding it closed, raising the lid. My breath catches in my throat when I see what’s inside. It’s a Martin HD28E acoustic guitar, the retro version, with light wood grain coloring and a gorgeous dark mahogany neck with pearl inlays between the frets. I strum my fingers across the strings, the sound of the notes vibrating against my skin, and look wide-eyed to her dad. “What is this?”

  His brows raise. “A guitar?”

  It’s a guitar, all right. It’s the guitar of guitars. She asked me once, if I could have any guitar in the world, which one would it be? This is the one I told her about. I played it once at a store during a trip to Nashville, and holding it, hearing the music it produced, was better than any wet dream I’d ever had. She laughed when I told her that. I smile at the memory but then frown when I turn and look back at the guitar.

  “She said to make sure I gave it to you if you came here. That’s all she told me.” I watch as he settles himself back into his chair.

  I swipe my hand quickly across my cheek and look down to hide my face from her dad as I realize tears have begun to fall. I blindly snap the locks on the case and rise, grabbing the handle as I do to take it with me. I sniffle and clear my throat. “Will you tell her I came for her? And will you ask her to call me?”

  Her dad stands again and nods. “I’ll tell her.”

  I walk to the door and am about to push through it but turn back. “I love her, Mr. Porter.”

  “I know you do, Justin. But this is up to her now.”

  I nod my head in response, and I suppose in goodbye, and then head back out to my truck and drive to my cottage. When I arrive, I carry the case inside and set it on the coffee table in front of me as I sit. I flip the locks, lift the lid, and then sit there for hours staring at it, as every memory of us plays through my mind. I can’t believe she bought this for me. I know for a fact it runs around four grand, so she must have used some of her advance to do it. She told me she was going to use her advance to pay off her student loans.

  Finally lifting it from the case, I set it in my lap, freezing when I see what lays in the bottom of the case. I reach my hand in and pull the notebook, her notebook, out and blow out a shaky breath. I put the guitar back in the case and lay the notebook flat across my lap. I’m terrified to open the pages. I don’t know what I’m going to find, and while every cell in my being wants to know, there’s a huge part of me that knows this is the end.

  Once I finally get the nerve to lift it from my lap, I set it back on top of the guitar and walk away. I’m not ready for this yet. I strip down to my boxers and slide into our bed, the bed I shared with her for almost four months. I roll over and squeeze the pillow that she always rested her head on and inhale deeply. Her scent still lingers in the fabric, so I cling to it, wrapping it in my arms tightly. Then, I finally break down, sobs wracking my body until I eventually fall into an exhausted sleep.

  * * *

  I PICK my new cell phone up off the table and look at the screen to see who’s calling. I mean, I’ve only given four people this number: Kelly, my dad, my literary agent, and my publisher. The options are limited in who it could be.

  “Hi, Dad,” I say after pressing the green accept call option.

  “Hey, sweets. You doing okay down there?” I can hear the concern and worry in his voice, and I pray again that I’ve made the right choice, pray Justin will make the right choice, as I look out at the blue ocean waves rolling on the shore outside.

  “I’m good, Daddy. Auntie Wendy is taking good care of me.”

  “She was always my favorite. After your mom, of course.” He chuckles, making sure I understand that my mom always came first. He never made it a secret, though, that her younger sister, my Auntie Wendy, was his favorite. For a really long time, she lived in Australia, so seeing her wasn’t a common thing, but when we did, it was always a treat. They named me after her; well, kind of. She was living in Sydney when I was born and insisted that my mom name me after her, but my mom didn’t want another Wendy, so Sydney it was.

  “He came to the house today, Sydney.” My heart stills in my chest, my blood running cold as I absorb his words. “He’s taking this really, really hard.”

  I’m nodding my head, unable to speak yet as I try to control the tears that are now running down my cheeks. “Are you sure this is what you want, honey? It’s obvious you both love each other, and well, do you really want to be alone right now?”

  I blink my eyes until I can see clearly again and finally squeak back a reply. “I’ve made my decision, and now, it’s up to him to make his.”

  “Well, I’m not sure if I agree with you after seeing him today, but I’ll respect your choice.”

  “Did you give him the guitar?” I ask quietly.

  “I did. He seemed surprised.” I know my dad’s trying to get more out of me, but I don’t have it in me to explain. I think he thought it was one that Justin already owned and left behind, not understanding it was a gift I bought for him.

  “Did he open it? Take it out of the case?” I question further.

  “Well, he opened it, but no, he just looked at it and then buckled it up and left.”

  A small piece of me dies, and I wonder if he’ll pick the guitar up and play it. If he doesn’t, he won’t see what I’ve left him. But it’s another choice I have to live with. Part of my decision in finding out if I’m enough.

  “Okay, thanks, Dad.”

  “Sydney, you can still come home.” His comment sounds more like a suggestion, and I appreciate his support, more than he knows, but it’s not something I can do right now.

  “I know, Dad. Thanks. I’m going to go, okay?”

  “Okay, sweetie. Say hi to Wendy.”

  “I will. Love you, Dad.”

  “Love you, too.”

  We end the call, which for me also signifies the end of my r
elationship with Justin. Unless he opens the notebook.

  * * *

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  TWO YEARS LATER

  I take a deep breath and push through the door of Hook’s Landing, not sure who or what I’ll find inside, but nervous none the less. It’s a Thursday, and it’s early in the afternoon, so I’m not expecting a big crowd. I planned it this way on purpose. Everywhere I go now, I’m recognized and mobbed by fans wanting an autograph, a picture, a piece of me to take home with them. It’s exhausting and not the part of fame I was expecting when I became successful.

  I sigh in relief when I step inside and only see one person sitting at the bar, and then groan in frustration when I realize it’s Kelly. She spins around as the bell above the door sounds, her face widening in surprise when her eyes land on me.

  “What in the world are you doing here, Mr. Fancy Pants?” She rises from the stool and saunters in my direction, crossing her arms as she approaches.

  I pull my sunglasses off, forgetting that they’re on my nose for a moment as they’ve become a regular fixture in trying to conceal myself from the public eye. I give her a lopsided smile and shrug. “Hey, Kelly. Nice to see you, too.”

  She stops in front of me and shakes her head in disbelief. “What’s it been, two years?”

  Actually, it’s been twenty months and eighteen days since I walked out of this bar, but who’s counting? “Yeah, something like that. How’ve you been?”

  “Just dandy. You?” she fires back, feisty as always.

  “Oh, you know, just living the dream.” More like a fucking nightmare, but there’s no way in hell I’m telling her that. It’s been two years of endless tours, and writing, and recording, with not one moment to catch my breath. On one hand, it’s been a great way to bury my head in the sand and avoid my shattered heart, but on the other, I’ve not had one moment to try to fix it. Until now.

  “Oh yeah, I heard you moved to L.A. Living the Cali life now. Got your picture on the cover of Us and everything. How’s it feel being the sexist man in America?” Her tone is condescending, and she’s definitely not looking for an answer from me, so I don’t give her one.