by DC Renee
She was no longer my partner, my other half, my equal. She was me. I was her. And without her, I would cease to exist.
I guess she wasn’t as sure as I was because when we lay in each other’s arms, her head on my shoulder, my hand stroking her neck, I barely registered her voice. “I’m Brook,” she said so faintly I had to strain to hear her.
“I’m Brook,” she repeated.
“Yeah, Brook, I know,” I responded, not sure what she was getting at.
“No, you don’t understand,” she said as she sat up to face me. “That … this … we, we’re amazing, incredible, better than anything I’ve ever imagined or wanted. But that’s with me as Brook.”
“I’m not following,” I admitted.
“I don’t think I could walk away even if you didn’t feel the same way I did, but I would. For our sake as much as yours, I’d walk away.”
“No one is going anywhere,” I told her vehemently.
“I know you felt what I felt just now,” she said, and I nodded. “Good, but I need to know that you understand that was Grennan and Brooklyn, not Grennan and Jourdan.”
“I get—” I started, but she cut me off.
“No, saying it and understanding it are two different things. You don’t even realize how happy you were when you realized I remembered you as Jourdan. Your whole face lit up,” she said. I guess she was right, but only because the boy inside me was thrilled. It was a great memory, and I was glad I could share it with someone. “But I’m not her. She’s gone, Gren. I’m no longer that person. For all intents and purposes, she’s truly dead. Buried in a shallow grave where I emerged. I’m not her. I’ll never be her. So tell me right now if you expect Jourdan because I’d rather hurt us now than later.”
“You’re Brook,” I told her. “You’ve always been Brook. I never knew Jourdan, not really. She was someone I held onto just to push myself more, like an idol. The lines might have blurred at times, but that was all she ever was to me. You … you, Brook, you’re real. You’re flesh and bones, and not just any flesh and bones; you’re my flesh and bones. Don’t you realize just how much you mean to me? Just how much a part of me you are? How you’ve burrowed down into every fiber of my being? You, Brook—not Jourdan, not your past, not the girl I looked up to but never knew. I didn’t love that girl. I fell in love with you. Only you. And I’m going to love you for the rest of my days,” I told her as I watched tears slip down her face. “I’m going to marry you, Brook.” She gasped, but I wasn’t done. “I’m going to ask you to marry me, and you’re going to say yes. I’ll drag you to the chapel if I have to. Not Jourdan. You. Brooklyn J. Cooper. You’re it.”
Before I could even finish my sentence, she had launched herself into my arms.
“I love you so much, Gren. I, Brooklyn J. Cooper, love you so very fucking much,” she said, and this time I gasped. It was a manly gasp, but it was a gasp.
“You said fuck,” I told her.
“I needed to make sure you knew just how much I love you.” I couldn’t help but chuckle as she rained kisses on my face. “And just so you know,” she added, “I’ll say yes.”
Three years later…
Brooklyn
I used to think my life took many shapes
None of them square or round
I used to think my life was like liquid
It couldn’t be molded nor bound
But now my life takes only one shape
And that shape is you.
I used to think my life took many shapes
All with different sizes and traits
I used to think my life was like liquid
Always shifting through the various states
But now my life takes only one shape
And that shape is you.
I mouthed the words as I listened to Grennan’s rich voice sing the chorus; his friends playing right behind him as they performed for a sold-out crowd.
“I can never get enough of this song,” Cass whisper-yelled in my ear. “It’s seriously the best one you’ve written. No offense,” she added.
I laughed lightly before I responded shyly, “It kind of is.”
I wrote the lyrics the day after, well, technically, in the middle of the night after Grennan and I finally puzzled together all the tiny broken pieces of us. The words had come to me as I woke with a start. That time, Grennan woke up too.
“What’s wrong, Brook?” he asked.
“Absolutely nothing. Everything is perfect,” I told him as I grabbed a pen and paper and started writing.
“Ah, got it.” He chuckled and went back to sleep. I was done in minutes, but I wanted to perfect the tune. I hummed and sang under my breath for probably over an hour, and then I couldn’t wait. I woke Grennan up and sang the words for him. He had heard me sing offhandedly before, but that was the first time I sang for him. And it wasn’t the last. I never sang in public, and I didn’t think I ever would, but with Grennan, I felt safe.
I was afraid to look at him while I sang the words, but I forced myself to watch his face and study the emotions he went through. I saw the awe, the pride, the surprise, and then the love—pure, pure love. I was sure I let a couple of tears drop down my cheeks.
I had called the song, “The Shape of My Life is You.”
And it was written entirely about him. He was everything and so much more. I didn’t care about living my life the way I wanted to, not anymore. I just wanted to live it with him. That was it. Simple.
To say the song overjoyed him was an understatement. He called it the best thing he’d ever heard. “Fucking brilliant,” he’d said. And then he took almost a full month of going back and forth on whether he wanted to share it with the world or keep it for himself. Sharing it with the world won out.
It was The Rising Sun’s biggest hit. Still was, actually.
“A mix of gritty emotion, grunge beat, and surprising hope,” one music blogger had called it. I just called it my dedication to the man who pulled me out from under the dark and showed me just how the sun actually rose—with bright hues and beaming light coming straight at you. I loved it. I loved Grennan.
He and the guys recorded it about a month later, and he asked me to come by the studio to hear it in its final stages. When I got there, the producer played it back for me as Grennan and the guys stood behind me. I couldn’t help the slow trickle of tears that escaped my eyes as I listened to the words.
And then it came to the last line.
The original last line was the name of the song: The shape of my life is you. It repeated three times as the song faded out. At least, that was how I imagined it.
But the last line of this song was: Marry me, Brook. I love you. And that line repeated three times as the song faded out.
“Play it again,” I asked the producer. “Just the end.” I couldn’t believe my ears.
He laughed and did. And I hadn’t been mistaken. The words had changed. I turned quickly, my face probably a mixture of shock and extreme happiness to find Grennan on one knee with his friends behind him. Somehow, Cassidy and my parents had slipped into the room. Considering the size of the room, that was a huge accomplishment. It was also kind of important to note I thought Cassidy was out of town for work, and my parents were supposed to be figuring out the logistics of keeping the fishing shop open while living most of their time in New York near me.
“That song, those lyrics … you wrote them about me.” Grennan choked up as he looked up at me while on one knee. I still hadn’t said a word, too speechless to even open my mouth. “But the truth is they’re the same for me when it comes to you. You’re all I see, all I need, all I want. You’re not just a part of me; you’re everything to me. I don’t want to live a moment, a second without you. So marry me, Brook.”
“That wasn’t a question.” I smirked through my tears of joy.
“I’m not asking.” He smiled. “I told you I was going to marry you. I’ll take you kicking and screaming.”
“I’m pret
ty sure I told you I’d say yes,” I responded.
“Well then, in that case,” he said as he grabbed my legs and pulled me to him so I kind of crumpled and landed on his bent knee. “Don’t worry, Brooklyn, I’m going to marry you,” he said as he slid the ring on my finger.
“I’m not worried, Grennan.” I giggled. Yeah, I giggled, so sue me. I was engaged. A girl was allowed to giggle then. “Because I’m going to marry you too.” And then I grabbed his face in my hands and crushed my lips on his.
I heard whistles and cheers around me. I think I might have even heard, “Get a room.” And maybe something like, “Your parents are here.” But I didn’t care. Not at that moment.
We celebrated at Cassidy’s apartment that night, and I might have been a little buzzed or maybe delirious, but I was sure Cass and Cody were giving each other the sex eyes. When I asked her about it later, she said there was no way she was sleeping with “Mr. Player.” I teased her with “C-squared.” I never stopped teasing her about that, either. And I started in on Cody too. After a couple of times, everyone was calling them “C-squared.” It still stuck, and when I turned to look at her as I watched Grennan perform, I was sure her eyes were lingering on Cody.
Grennan and I were married eight months later at a resort in Punta Cana, Dominican Republic. We did this for several reasons. “The Shape of My Life is You” had hit record charts when it was released, skyrocketing The Rising Sun’s fame. It was hard for the guys and me to handle at first, but I think I figured it out quicker than they did, considering my past. The lead singer getting married was apparently big news, and the paparazzi became a bit of a problem. Grennan even hired a bodyguard for me, and I didn’t object. I wasn’t taking any chances with my life or my safety anymore. And the last and most important reason was because we wanted only the people we loved and cared about to be there. It was a small, quiet ceremony on the beach, and it was perfect.
My parents moved to New York about a month after I got engaged but visited their little home and fishing shop several times a year. They also made their first trip back to Los Angeles and then San Francisco shortly after I was married. “It was surreal,” they told me. “Like we were stepping back into a different life,” my dad had said.
When news spread I had written most of The Rising Sun’s latest album, the offers and requests for song lyrics came pouring in. So that was what I got to do with my life. And even though I was officially back in the limelight — to an extent—no one put two-and-two together about Jourdan and me. Why would they? As far as they knew, she was dead. Even though it wouldn’t really take much to compare my parents or best friend to hers. But hey, I wasn’t complaining.
“You all right?” Cassidy asked, bringing me back the present.
“Better than all right,” I answered as I watched Grennan singing, his eyes closed, the music moving through him. He always closed his eyes for this song. It was the only one that spoke to him the way it did. I loved watching the rise and fall of his chest, the way his lashes fluttered with every word out of his mouth, the way his fingers strummed his guitar, and the way his body just melded with the lyrics. I didn’t know where the song ended and he began.
This was the final stop for The Rising Sun’s latest tour and our two-year wedding anniversary. Grennan and I would celebrate after the show, but I had a special surprise for him I couldn’t wait to share. I put my hand instinctively over my stomach just as the song ended, and his eyes found me like they always did. I saw the moment he looked at my hand and where it was, and then he cocked his head and furrowed his brow. He regarded me with curiosity until I simply nodded. No words were needed. And I watched with joy as his already glowing face lit up like he was a blazing fire.
“I’m going to be a dad!” he screamed into the microphone and then took off in my direction. It was mere moments before I was wrapped tight in his embrace, his mouth fusing with mine.
“God, I love you. I love you so very fucking much,” he said with my face in his palms. “I hope it’s a girl,” he whispered. “I hope she’s exactly like you.”
I nodded, but I made a silent wish for a boy, one with Grennan’s charisma and his heart. Because it was thanks to his heart that my life turned out the way it had, and it was the best life, the best shape it could be. Ours.
I’ve had a wonderful support system behind me since the very first book. My family has always been there for me—my hubby, my sister, my parents, and my in-laws. They encourage me and praise me on a daily basis. And it’s noteworthy to mention that my sister is practically my co-writer. I basically can’t write a chapter without her approval.
I have wonderful friends, most of which I’ve gotten to know because of the book world. Their feedback and their aid is greatly appreciated! I’m lucky to be able to call these wonderful women my friends: Rebecca Bennett, Janett Gomez, Jen Wildner, Monica Perez, Heather Cicio, Suleika Santana, Cat Gray, Tiffany West, Susan Fisher Davis, Jettie Woodruff, Sheri Hursh, Shelly Wygant, Carrie Sutton, and Ivette Pacheco. I’m sorry if I missed anyone.
A lot goes on behind the scenes to get a book ready. If it weren’t for these gals, my stories would just be words on paper, and nothing more: my editor, Jenny Sims with Editing4Indies; my formatter, Elaine York with Allusion Graphics; my cover designer, Rebecca Pau with The Final Wrap, her sweet and accommodating boy, my cover model, Dillon Pau, and my promo gals at Saints N Sinners.
I have the best reader group. Seriously, I do. They make me feel like a rock star, so shout out to DC’s Diamonds!
Big thanks to all the bloggers that have helped me out, not just with this story but throughout them all!
Big thanks to all the blogs that have helped promote me, the groups that have let me hung out with their members, and of course, YOU, the readers…I write only because you readers exist!
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