by Lucy Kevin
Amazingly, there was a spot to park outside the coffee shop. Tyce took it, hopping out and checking the time. Yes, if he was very, very lucky…
He was. A quick glance through the coffee shop window revealed Whitney standing at the counter, ordering her regular morning coffee. She looked radiant this morning, happier than he’d seen her at any point in the last few days.
He strode up to her and looked deep into her beautiful, surprised, eyes.
“You cancelled your wedding.”
Four simple words, but there was so much behind them. How much he’d hoped for this moment. How perfect she looked standing there. How he wanted her right then more than anything else in the world.
“Tyce—”
If he couldn’t express everything in words, he could at least show Whitney how he felt.
So he cupped her face in his hands and he kissed her the way he’d wanted to on the morning the swan escaped.
The way he’d wanted to for every moment of the last five years.
It could so easily have been disappointing. It could have so easily failed to live up to his memories of their previous kiss, yet from the moment that his lips touched Whitney’s, she kissed him back with pure, sweet passion. He continued to kiss her back every bit as fiercely, as hungrily, wanting to relearn every last inch of her lips.
But then, Whitney pulled back from the kiss, far too soon.
Not just from the kiss, but from him, too.
“No, Tyce,” she said, her eyes wide and shocked, her skin flushed. “I…I can’t.”
Tyce moved forward to brush a hand down across her cheek. “You cancelled the wedding. You’re free to do whatever you want now, Whitney.”
She took hold of his hand, moving it away from her skin. “Tyce, I can’t. I just can’t.”
For the first time since he’d spotted her through the window, Whitney didn’t look happy. She took another step away from him. This time, Tyce didn’t close the distance. The last thing he wanted was to upset her.
“Why not?” he asked. “And don’t try telling me that you aren’t attracted to me, because I know I won’t believe it. Not after a kiss like that.”
“The kiss was good,” Whitney admitted in a soft voice that only he could hear, looking slightly embarrassed as she did it, like she wasn’t sure that she should admit quite how good it had been. “The kiss was great. But it isn’t that simple.”
“It’s exactly that simple,” Tyce countered. “What do you want, Whitney? Just say it, and whatever it is, we’ll make it happen. Together.” But the look in her eyes had him asking, “I am what you want, aren’t I?”
“I don’t know what I want right now, Tyce,” Whitney said. “I know how good I feel every time I’m around you, but I’m not ready to jump headfirst into a relationship the day after breaking things off with Kenneth. I haven’t even told my family yet. I need time to work out, for once, exactly what it is that I want.” Whitney turned towards the door. “I need to go now, Tyce. I have to get back to work.”
It was an excuse, and they both knew it. Tyce wanted to reach out and stop her. Wanted to kiss her again so that she saw how great they could be. His hands clenched with the effort of not doing it, but he didn’t reach for her to pull her against him.
Because he loved her.
And right then, it looked like loving her meant letting her walk away again.
Chapter Nine
Tyce played a scale on his guitar, bent the top note, then slid down the neck to repeat the riff. Milo blinked up at him from where he was lying beside the amplifier in Tyce’s living room, one ear up, the other flopping to the side.
“Yes, I know,” Tyce said. “It’s not really a song, but it’s better than nothing, isn’t it?”
He went into a quick legato sequence and Milo put his head under his paws. His dog had a point. Tyce had started off well, but now, his guitar playing had descended into aimless noodling. Just the same tired licks coming out from his fingers, with no input from either his brain or his heart. He’d thought there was a glimmer of melody there, but he’d gone after it too quickly, and the result was a mess.
Tyce forced himself to rein it in and settle down into a simple four bar sequence. It was only when he’d been through it a couple of times that he realized he’d unconsciously gone back to the song he’d started to write all those years ago.
“I can’t give up on Whitney, Milo.”
The dog looked up from under his paws, looking hopeful at the sound of her name.
Tyce reached down to ruffle the dog’s fur. “I want to see her even more than you do, if you can believe it. But she wants space, and I have to respect that. I just have to hope that if I give her a little time, she’ll come around to seeing how good we’d be together.”
Milo barked as Tyce started rooting through a stack of sheet music. Waiting was the right thing to do, even if it was hard, but he did need something to take his mind off thoughts of Whitney. He hoped working on the musical arrangements for the Rose Chalet’s next wedding would help with that for a while.
Unfortunately, there wasn’t much to do. Another wedding spent directing the same parts for the same musicians. He must have worked at least a hundred weddings with the string quartet over the years. The only difference in the routine was that they’d acquired a new viola player recently. The previous one had just taken a position with the San Francisco Philharmonic. Tyce couldn’t blame him. Moving on to bigger and better things was what musicians did.
Most of them, anyway. Tyce could still remember what it had been like in the early days. The bands he’d been in had broken up and re-formed, swapped drummers and fought over bass players, splintered and re-formed under a dozen different names. Being so passionate about music made every band a strange and fragile thing, perfect one night then gone the next, always reaching for that special blend of ability and chemistry.
Chemistry? It was more like alchemy with some of the bands he’d been in, but occasionally, just occasionally, the results were too good to ignore. Just like the way he and Whitney were together.
Pure heat. Perfect chemistry. And gravity that pulled them together every single time they were together.
What would that younger version of himself think of Tyce’s life now? Working the same wedding gig for years, occasionally guesting with another band to fill in for one of their players.
He’d probably think this “mature” Tyce was nuts, but then, he’d never cared about financial security when he was younger.
He’d still been convinced that he could write songs, too.
Tyce turned his focus back to his guitar again, working to find the faint melody playing out in the back of his mind. If he could only get it out through his fingers and onto the strings.
A beautiful picture of Whitney smiling, her cheeks flushed, her eyes bright and intelligent, swam into his mind again, making him pause. He hated having to work so patiently around the edges of their relationship, when what he really wanted was to dive straight into the heart of their feelings for each other.
But he’d tried that before, had tried to force everything in place. And where had it gotten him?
No songs.
And no girl.
Maybe, he started to think, it would be better in the end if he didn’t try to force it...and just let every note play out as the one that was meant to be there.
Tyce slid his guitar onto the stand and reached for Milo’s leash. “How about if I take you for a walk? It has to be better than sitting around here.” The dog yapped his approval and they’d almost made it to the door when Tyce’s phone went off.
“Hi, Tyce, this is Sebastian. Whitney’s brother. I found your number online. I hope it’s okay that I’m calling.”
“Hi, Sebastian.” Praying Whitney wasn’t in trouble, Tyce asked, “What can I do for you?”
Her brother was silent for a long moment. Too long for Tyce’s peace of mind, before the teenager said, “It’s kind of embarrassing.”
Relief flooded through Tyce. It didn’t sound like it had anything to do with Whitney.
“Sure, no problem. I’ve been in some pretty embarrassing situations. What’s up?”
“Well, I’ve got this talent show coming up at school, and the thing is,” he paused before saying in a rush, “I’ve never actually been on stage before.”
Tyce could still remember the first time he went on stage. He’d been so nervous the guitar shook in his hands like there was an earthquake rolling through the theatre.
“Been there, too,” he told Whitney’s brother. “How can I help out?”
“Whitney said that the band you were in was really good,” Sebastian said. “Maybe you could give me some tips? I really don’t want to mess this up. Not with everyone watching.”
Tyce thought for a minute. It would be easy to give Sebastian a few basic suggestions over the phone, but that didn’t feel like enough. After all, this was Whitney’s brother. Besides, it was good to see at least one member of the Banning family going after their dreams.
“We can do better than that,” he said. “You’ve been to the Rose Chalet for one of Marge’s weddings?”
“Sure. Three times.”
“Meet me over there, and bring your guitar.”
Tyce grabbed his guitar. On impulse, he chose his beat up one, rather than the one he usually used for work. Milo looked up at him, then back down to the leash.
“Sorry about your walk,” Tyce said. “Don’t worry, though, you’re coming too.”
Once he’d loaded up his gear, he drove over to the chalet with Milo. The little dog didn’t usually come with him to work, even though Rose clearly adored him. There was usually enough chaos on site without adding an excited dog underfoot. The chalet was closed and empty tonight, but Tyce had a key for late night rehearsals with the wedding bands.
Whitney’s younger brother was trying to look casual as he stood by the chalet’s front door with his guitar case in his hand, because, obviously, looking excited about things wasn’t cool. Still, Tyce could see the nerves.
“Hi, Sebastian, come on inside.”
“I know you’re probably too busy to hang out for too long,” the kid began.
Tyce shook his head and said, “I’m always up for jamming with another musician.”
“Thanks.” Sebastian crouched to stroke Milo’s head, and the dog gave his hand a big slobbery slurp. “Yuck.”
“It’s the first rule of show business,” Tyce said with a smile. “Never work with animals.” He ignored Milo’s affronted look. “Tonight is all about getting experience playing on stage when there’s no one around, so you don’t have to worry about the simple things.”
“I’m not worried.”
“Sure you’re not,” Tyce said as he unlocked the door. “I once had a bass player who was so blinded by the glare from the lights that he walked off the front of the stage.” He laughed. “His playing didn’t get a whole lot worse, to be honest.”
Sebastian was laughing as they went through to the main hall, carefully keeping off the floor RJ had just re-varnished.
“It’s important to make sure that everything is working before you start,” Tyce said as they set up the amplifiers. “I’ve had gigs where we were too rushed to sound check and the gear broke down just as we went on stage.”
Sebastian nodded, obviously taking it all in, then pointed to Tyce’s instrument. “That’s a cool guitar.”
Tyce slipped the battered and heavily customized old telecaster over his neck. “It’s all I could afford to put together back when I was gigging. I don’t play it much these days.”
“Why not?”
“It’s not the kind of guitar people expect when they come for a wedding. It wouldn’t look right.”
“I bet you’ve been through a lot with that guitar,” Sebastian pointed out. “And if it’s right for you, why use something else?”
Tyce shrugged and plugged the old thing in. He had to admit, it sounded a lot sweeter than he remembered. Turning his focus back to Sebastian’s show, he said, “The best thing you can do for yourself and your audience is just to enjoy the show you’re putting on. The people in the crowd want you to succeed, because they want to be entertained. If you look like you’re having fun, it’s easier for them to have fun. Go ahead, plug in and play. Pretend you’re out on your school's stage and everyone you want to play for is in the audience.”
Sebastian started to play, and although the first few bars were tentative and shaky, he quickly relaxed. Tyce was glad to see that the teenager had talent. Tyce quickly fell into providing the rhythm parts, stopping Sebastian here and there to give advice.
“Don’t be too focused on making sure your technique is perfect,” he suggested at one point. “Impressing people is fine, but what they’ll remember are the songs that move them.”
“How do I do that?” Sebastian asked.
“Back when I was writing songs, it was always about tapping into emotion. If I could pin down what I wanted to get across and really open up a part of myself, there was always a much better chance of connecting with the audience. Not,” he felt compelled to add, “that I’ve written anything in a long time.” Which then brought him to, “How’s Whitney doing?”
“Good,” Sebastian said as he bent back over his guitar. Almost as a second thought he said, “Even though she cancelled her wedding.”
“So,” Tyce said slowly, knowing he shouldn’t be mining her little brother for information, but unable to stop himself, “I guess she’s told everyone by now, huh?”
Sebastian shook his head. “No, she’s weird about that stuff. Like Mom and Dad would ever be upset with her.”
Tyce frowned. Why hadn’t she told her parents?
But he knew when it was time to back off, so he went back to showing Sebastian the basics of how to use the stage to get feedback through his guitar, and talked with him through the brief talent show set list.
“Close with your best song.”
“Close with it?” Sebastian was clearly surprised. “Shouldn’t I start with it instead?”
Tyce shook his head. “It’s the one people will remember most.”
Sebastian swallowed hard. “What if I still don’t feel like I’m ready for this?”
“Then we can keep playing,” Tyce said, “but honestly, it’s mostly just a question of attitude. Remember that you’re doing this because you love it. Sure, you’re going to be up on stage with people staring at you, but that’s exactly where you want to be. It’s just a part of doing what you really want.”
Sebastian looked around the Rose Chalet. “So playing weddings here is what you really want?”
No.
The answer came so swift and so clear to Tyce and he knew there was no hiding from the truth anymore.
What he really wanted was to be able to write a song again.
And he wanted Whitney, too.
Chapter Ten
The high school auditorium was packed by the time Whitney arrived. Fortunately, Sebastian had reserved a seat for her. Even if he hadn’t, she would have found a spot close to the stage, because she was the only member of the family in town and Sebastian needed to know his family supported his dreams. He might have spent the week pretending the talent show didn’t matter, but Whitney knew he was nervous.
Not as nervous as she’d been for most of the week, however, as she’d told her relatives about Kenneth, one by one.
Her brother had been easy to tell, because Whitney knew he wasn’t going to judge her. Annette had been easy, too. The hardest part was stopping her cousin from continuing to suggest other men to date to take her mind off the “pain” of losing Kenneth. It had taken a good quarter of an hour to persuade Annette that “we both decided to end it” was not code for Kenneth having run off with someone else.
Her parents had been the hardest ones to tell. She’d put it off all week, expecting her mother to cry and her father to say how disappointed he was in her for letting a good m
an like Kenneth go. The last thing that Whitney had wanted was to hurt them.
Despite her fears, her parents had actually been great. Once she’d finally managed to get the words out, her mother had hugged her. Her father had asked her if she was sure it was what she wanted, and when she said yes, he’d seemed almost relieved.
“All we want is for you to be happy, honey,” he’d said. “I’m glad you realized this now, before you and Kenneth got married.”
“We’ve always liked him,” her mother had added, “but if the two of you don’t have that spark, then you obviously aren’t right for one another. I know one day you’ll find someone who will make you truly happy.”
It had been surprisingly easy to tell them the truth. So much easier than Whitney had thought it would be. So easy that sitting there in the darkening auditorium, she found herself wondering if she couldn’t tell her parents the rest of it, that she wasn’t sure she wanted to spend her life running their company.
Only, the truth was that resigning as head of operations of the Banning Group would affect everything. And Whitney couldn’t possibly forget the conversation she’d overheard five years ago.
“I don’t know what we’re going to do now that Whitney has decided to go to veterinary college,” her father had said.
“You aren’t thinking of staying at the company, are you Graham?” her mother had replied. “You know what the doctor said about stress and your health.”
“I don’t know what else I can do, Jen. Whitney’s the only one I trust to take over. Could you imagine one of her cousins doing it?”
“We could recruit someone else to take your place, someone who has been in the business for a while already. Your health isn’t good enough to put in those long days anymore.”
“I won’t have a stranger running the family business.”
“But if Whitney doesn’t want to do it…”
