Say It Strong (Say You Love Me Book 2)

by Virna DePaul

  On the sleeper bus later that night on our way to Milwaukee, Corbin showed Tucker a video on his phone of one of the roadies playing electric guitar. On cue, I pulled out my phone to look at my pics of Abby, including the one I took of her at Robbie’s party, when I couldn’t resist how fucking cute she looked just standing there by that potted plant. For the hundredth time, I watched the video of her playing the cello at my grandparents’ house.

  For at least an hour, I watched Abby over and over, swaying to her own music, absorbing her own melody, getting lost in the deep richness of the cello’s tones. Her black locks with brown highlights cascaded over her shoulders. Closing my eyes, I listened to her play Serenade and imagined her lying next to me as the notes washed over me. A vision flowing in red, she’ll demand respect, bring you to your knees, boy, she’ll make you bleed…

  I saw her dark brown eyes in the morning light. I smelled the sweet scent of her skin and saw the way her skin flushed when she reached orgasm. I felt her hand on my shoulder and running light circles all over my back when I pretended to be asleep.

  “A vision flowing in red, she’ll demand respect, bring you to your knees, boy, she’ll make you bleed…” I whispered, my words flowing on the cello’s breeze.

  I missed her.

  I wanted her.

  I would work to fix what went wrong.

  And I would never make the same mistake again.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Abby

  Skulking home from the studio, it was hard not to miss Liam, not to miss Rosemary and the whole tour, but I was home now, and home was nice. I spent time with Juilliard friends Kim, Jaromir, and Millie, practicing Pachelbel Canon in D together for the weekend wedding quartets we were hired to play several times a month. During my downtime, I practiced Serenade and tried not to remember what happened one rainy night in Seattle when I played it for Liam in an empty room.

  Reaching the top steps of my mom’s apartment, I slid in the key and stopped. Inside, my mother spoke to someone, a quiet male voice responding just near the door. My heartbeat pulsed in my throat. Carefully, I pressed my ear to the door, but it was as if they both realized I was standing just outside and quieted. I choked back my nerves, turned the key, and pushed the door open.

  There stood my mother with a big smile plastered on her face, which silently suggested to me that I ought to fake one, too. Next to her was none other than Samuel—short, dark hair, Dockers and Polo, my no-nonsense Filipino ex-boyfriend. “Hello, Abigail.”

  “Samuel. What are you doing here?”

  My mother shot me a look that said, Abby, how rude.

  Samuel’s eyes flared in amusement. “I’m doing well. Thank you for asking. How are you?”

  “I’m fine. I’m just surprised that you’re here. You didn’t call.”

  “I was in the neighborhood. Thought I’d stop by and bring your mother back her casserole dish that you left at my house for our last…party.” He meant last time together. That night, I’d told him that Point Break had hired me, and we’d fought over me wanting to break up. I’d left in a rush, leaving a few things there. He made a show of handing my mother her clean Pyrex, devoid of Mexican Bean Dip.

  “Thank you,” my mother said. “Very nice of you, Samuel. Wasn’t that nice of him?” Ma directed her question at me.

  I hated this. How many times had I been tempted to answer my mother’s on-the-spot imposition with such snark as: Actually, no, Mother. It was calculated of him. He timed it so he’d accidentally-on-purpose find me here. “Oh, yes, very nice,” I said instead, setting my purse in the foyer chair and walking past them both. I’m sure they exchanged glances behind my back, but if they were going to gang up on me, then I didn’t need to partake in their ambush.

  In the kitchen, I poured myself a glass of water and drank it down at the counter, wondering if Samuel was here for anything other than to return my mother’s kitchenware. His presence entered the kitchen before I saw him. “Hi, Abby.”

  I turned to him. “Hey.”

  “You’re mad I’m here?”

  “No, you have every right to come by and see my mom, I suppose. I can’t tell you where to go.”

  “What did I ever do to you?”

  “Nothing, you did nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

  “Can we go somewhere and talk? Not to change your mind. I know you’re set with us not being together.” He drummed the fingers of one hand on the counter, held fast to the counter with the other.

  Samuel may not have been the most exciting boyfriend in the world, but he knew me best, and he’d never hurt me like Liam had. Right now, he was looking like the better option. I faced him straight on. “Sure,” I sighed. “Why not?”

  “Great.” He feigned passing out, relieved at my answer. “Moe’s Pizza?”

  “I’ll be ready in five.”

  *

  Dinner was fine. There was nothing wrong with it. There was nothing right with it either. Samuel mostly talked about the things I’d missed while I was away, the people at his work, the new girl there who so many were making fun of because of her “intellectual density,” as he put it. If there was one thing that annoyed me about Samuel, it was the way he perceived people of average intelligence. Not stupid people who did stupid, hurtful things to others. I meant harmless people, who were, for all intents and purposes, nice, fun to be around, and perfectly acceptable individuals, but they just weren’t the brightest crayons in the box. He always talked down about them, how they didn’t understand what he explained, how they didn’t catch things as quickly as he did. His air of condescension irked me. So, whereas before our breakup I listened with an open ear, nodding and smiling at his comments, this time I just stared at him.

  It was amazing how the distance between us immediately showed me his true colors.

  We were finishing a shared cannoli when he wiped his mouth with the napkin and asked, “So…”

  “So?” I gave him a slack look.

  “Did you sleep with him?”

  I nearly choked on my spoon. “With whom?”

  He adopted a sullen look. “Don’t ask me that, Abigail. It really makes you seem clueless, and you know who I’m talking about. Everyone saw your photo with him last week. I’m only asking because I’m curious.”

  “I’m the one asking inappropriate questions?” I countered.

  Silence.

  He sighed and folded his hands, looking elsewhere.

  “No, of course not,” I lied straight to his face. Not because I was embarrassed by having been with Liam in the sexual sense, or because I felt the need to hide information from Samuel, but because it wasn’t his business. I didn’t feel like having a long discussion about it either. “We only spent time together and became good friends. That was it.” I went back to our dessert.

  He gave a slight shake of his head, exhaling loudly. “I guess you wouldn’t tell me even if you had. The only reason I’m asking is because I wanted to tell you…that it doesn’t matter.” He again folded his hands in front of himself matter-of-factly. “I’m willing to overlook it. I’ll still have you back even if you’ve been with him.”

  I set down my spoon and stared at him. “Have me back?”

  “Yes. I’ll overlook it.” He shrugged. “We were separated at the time. I won’t hold it against you.”

  “Hold it against me,” I repeated. I just couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Had I really put up with this? Was I supposed to be feeling guilt over some transgression when we’d clearly broken up two months ago? When I’d said that I needed time on my own to see what I felt? “Who says I want to go back with you, Samuel? That’s a big assumption.”

  “I said if, Abby. God.” He stared at me awhile, then turned to thumb through his phone, then looked around for the waiter, avoiding my gaze at all costs.

  Would it be so terrible, though? To go back with Samuel? Not for good, just for a distraction. We were from similar backgrounds, we’d both focused on academics, and we both had
similar friends. I hated to admit it, but he would make a good diversion from painful thoughts of Liam. Spending the night with him would help me forget, erase mistakes I’d made. It was worth a try.

  “Samuel?”

  “Yes?”

  “Let’s get out of here,” I blurted. I wanted to try, just walk through the park at night like we used to and see if that brought back memories of comfort and familiarity, at the very least. Maybe I’d been foolish to let him go. Samuel was a good man with a good job. He’d make an excellent husband and father one day. Dependable and trustworthy—a mother’s wet dream.

  Not like certain people who made thirty thousand hearts break a night with his soulful, crooning performance. Some of those hearts hung around backstage after every show, and sometimes, those hearts belonged to top-name supermodels. Obviously, I could never compete and shouldn’t have even tried.

  Samuel’s eyes blinked rapidly. “Do you mean it?”

  “Yes, let’s walk through the park.” Surely he remembered what we sometimes used to do when we walked through the park. In our early days, at least.

  Samuel caught the waiter’s attention. “Check, please.”

  We took the long way back to my apartment, walking on a moonless night. Brooklyn streets were consoling in their familiarity, as was ringing my arm through Samuel’s. He’d been my boyfriend for four years. All of this made me feel like I was back where I belonged.

  “What changed your mind?” he asked as we entered the park’s tunnel of summery green trees.

  “I’ll be honest with you.” We took slow steps along the path. I had always loved walking through gardens, particularly at night. The shadowy shapes lent a distinct air of mystery and intrigue that enlivened my senses. “I don’t know if I want to get back together, but I’m willing to have a nice time tonight. Just to see how I feel. It is possible that I’ve been confused.”

  “That makes sense,” he said quietly. “I appreciate you giving us another try.”

  “Temporarily,” I added.

  “That’s fine.”

  Our arm-in-arm turned to holding hands, and our holding hands turned to his arm around me. I tried not to think about the garden where Liam and I first kissed—well, where I’d kissed him. So maybe the whole thing had been my fault. If I hadn’t started it, he might never have finished it, especially the way he did. He was only trying to get back the life he’d lost for a week because of me.

  We strolled by a familiar grove of trees, our hidden spot where we used to slip away, hide behind, kiss, and sometimes do naughty things against the trunks with our clothes on. It’d been a long time, two or more years since we’d done anything like that, but I was up for it—I had to eradicate recent memories from my mind.

  Tugging me along, Samuel led me to the group of trees where I leaned back against one of them and let him hold me close. His scent was different than Liam’s, of course, but immediately, my mind went back and forth, remembering the feel of Samuel’s body against mine. Not hard muscle but boyish and present and…just Samuel. Whereas Liam had towered over me, my face always aligned with his strong chest. Hugging him had felt like hugging a man.

  A man who broke your heart, Abby. Who wasn’t up-front about his intentions.

  Whether what happened with Liam was his fault, my fault, or nobody’s fault, it didn’t prevent me from missing him terribly. As Samuel’s mouth dropped over mine, and we kissed like we always had, akin to a mannequin holding still while his tongue moved around in my mouth, I felt tears stinging my eyes, but I couldn’t let them spill. Samuel had been up-front with his feelings. Samuel had never hurt me like Liam had. I had to keep reminding myself of that. If anyone deserved my love, it was Samuel, not Liam.

  So why did I feel so horrible?

  God, I hated what my brain was doing, how my body craved the swaying movement of Liam’s body, how he put his whole self into the kiss, how it was much more than a kiss, more like a sweet, slow dance with his soul.

  Still, I pressed on, allowing Samuel to run his hands over my body while I felt nothing, then the most awkward thing happened—my brain and body worked together to fool me. In order to feel something, anything—Samuel became Liam. My legs softened and parted slightly, as I slid one up against Samuel’s leg. My body arched against him, my breasts pushing, wanting Liam’s heat, remembering Liam’s kisses, Liam’s body…Liam awakening my core.

  Nobody had made me feel the way he had. He might be gone now, but I had to live with the memory of him making me feel beautiful, a goddess to be adored, the most wanted and loved woman in the world. He never talked condescendingly to me. He respected me, felt I was talented, wanted more of me. I couldn’t comprehend what had gone wrong.

  I panted, threw my head back, and for a moment, I heard his voice—Liam’s voice—in my ear. I love you, Abby.

  Stop, this is wrong! I pulled away, unable to look at Samuel. “I’m sorry.”

  “Are you okay? What is it?” Samuel’s eyes implored me in the darkness, his hands clinging to mine. He reached out and wiped my eyes.

  “I just…I have to go. I’m sorry. Thank you for dinner.” I tore away, feeling terrible for leading him on when, clearly, I was in no condition to be dating anyone, not even him. I walked home with him following close behind, unrelenting, or maybe just to keep me safe.

  When I reached my mother’s apartment building, he waited, one foot on the first step, as I ascended the stairs. At the top, I turned and gave him a small wave. He only sagged against the railing, staring up at me with the most confused expression. I entered the building and jumped up the three flights of stairs.

  Entering the apartment, my mother immediately began playing her nosiness card from her position on the couch watching TV. “So how was dinner? Did you two talk?”

  “Not now, Ma.” I stormed by her in a huff and closed my bedroom door behind me. I set down my purse, kicked off my shoes, and threw myself facedown on my bed, letting the buildup of tears behind my eyes spill over.

  For the first time since I left Vancouver, I cried. Sobbed, was more like it. It came in waves, pelting my heart, my pillow, as I held it tightly against my face to keep from screaming. I had the vague sense that my mother was at my door, ear pressed against it, but she’d better not knock, because I couldn’t handle it right now. I couldn’t handle anything.

  Maybe it hadn’t been Liam’s fault, I reasoned. One never knew. I hadn’t even given him the benefit of the doubt. The fact that he hadn’t stopped texting me since I left had to mean something, didn’t it? Why was I being so hard on him by not responding? People made mistakes. Maybe he’d always had plans to meet Giselle Vici in Vancouver, and I interrupted that. Maybe he’d planned on having a grand, bachelor time on this tour, and I interrupted that as well. Maybe he hadn’t been ready for me any more than I’d been ready for him.

  Still, that didn’t change the fact that a relationship with Liam would have been dangerous. I would always have been contending with the drama that seemed to surround him and the rest of the band. Drama was their lifestyle, their paycheck, and it played no part in my orderly, predictable life. I couldn’t let Liam back in if my life depended on it. It would have been only a matter of time before he hurt me again, traumatized me with images of other women straddling him, pressing their bosom against him while he gazed into their eyes, not mine.

  I could not deal with that.

  So I decided that I wouldn’t.

  I reached for my phone and dredged up his name and number, wiping them both clean from my contacts, as though they’d never been there at all.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Liam

  Wes and I practiced it all week, and Robbie okay’d it, so we went ahead…

  We added Abby Shines, the new acoustic piece, to the Chicago set. Nobody knew we were going to do it. It was as spontaneous as writing music gets. Originally, I wanted to write lyrics to accompany Abby’s Serenade, but she wasn’t available for me to ask her for the rights to use her song, so I
“borrowed” the dark, rhythmic elements from her composition, which had been haunting me, and went from there. Yes, it was similar enough to her original composition that she’d be well within her rights to sue me, but I was willing to take that chance, and so were the others. I was making a statement here, and it had to be a huge one. Wes came up with a chiming guitar riff to go with it, and together with my lyrics, it was about as poignant a piece as anything we’d ever performed.

  That night, it was hard to sing it without a hitch catching in my throat. I’m sure everyone thought I was just acting, but still, there was no denying that moment when the guitar rang clear, the last note hung suspended, and I moaned out the final “…And she’ll never see me again.”

  I ended the last note, pressed two fingers to my lips, then held them high against the brightest light in the stadium. “For you, Ab.”

  And kill the lights.

  It was the last song before our first encore set, and good thing, too, because I needed the break to go backstage, lock myself in the bathroom, and remind myself not to text her anymore before returning to wrap up this carnival. I could only hope that some way, somehow, Abby would hear about the song.

  And she’d see it for what it was.

  The promise I was finally making her.

  *

  After the show, I was chillaxin’ in the VIP lounge with Robbie and a couple of our roadies, having a simple beer, munching on nachos, doing my best to stay away from the hard stuff. Though she wasn’t there to watch me stay in line, I imagined Abby looking on, approving of my new attitude.

  My phone rang just then, and pulling it out of my pocket, I saw it was Helen FaceTiming me. “Hey, I’ll be right back,” I told Robbie, who watched me tromp off with a careful eye. I left the room to take the call in the hallway, pressing the accept button. “Hey, you.”

  Helen’s face was sullen and puffy, and her nose was snotty. “Hey.”

  “What’s wrong?” I asked, my instincts to protect her kicking in, despite her melodramatic bullshit weeks ago. “Where are you?”