by LJ Evans
That meant I still had at least a seven-hour window to myself. I wasn’t used to time alone with nothing to do. Mostly because I never let myself have it. It was too painful.
My phone buzzed.
WYNN: How was the sex?
ME: Nonexistent.
WYNN: Oh no! I’m sorry.
ME: But the kissing was hot. And we still slept together.
WYNN: Ooooh. You little slut you. Cam is going to have your hide.
I was smiling again.
ME: What Cam doesn’t know won’t hurt her.
WYNN: You think you can keep this from her? She’s going crazy with the baby so close and being on bed rest.
ME: What?
And there was the guilt, hitting like a snake bite. Why was Cam on bed rest? When had this happened? I’d only been gone two nights.
WYNN: You didn’t know?
ME: No!!!! I’m calling her now.
WYNN: Okay. She’ll probably be pissed that I spilled the beans, but then she’s always known not to trust me with a secret. LOL. Love you.
ME: Love you too.
I hit Cam’s picture in my favorites.
“Hey, you delinquent, you,” Cam answered.
“What the hell is going on?” I demanded.
“Three days with a musician and you’re already swearing. Come home so I can have your mama wash your mouth out with soap.” There was laughter in her voice, and that made me feel slightly better.
“Seriously, Cam, what’s up?” I said.
“God. It’s nothing. They just don’t like how fast all those stupid fake contractions are coming, or maybe they were real contractions too? I don’t know. They want me off my feet for a few days.”
“Like how long?”
“Hopefully not long, I’m already going crazy. You know Blake, if I even try to set a toenail on the floor, he’s manhandling me back to bed. He literally carried me to the bathroom last night before I punched him in the gut.”
“You did not.”
“I did too. I can pee by myself, thank you very much.”
“But other than that, you and the baby are okay?”
“Yeah. They just don’t want me to go into labor six weeks early. They’re trying to get me to go another couple weeks.”
All I could think was that it was just like Cam to not wait the full term on anything. She wasn’t good at waiting. I was surprised as all get out that she’d agreed to Blake’s wish to not know the sex of the baby.
“I’m going to come home.”
“Don’t you dare, I’m not even home. I’m back in Nashville.”
“Then I’ll come to Nashville.”
“If you show up here, I’ll lock you out.”
And Cam would. You never went against a determined Cam, because you always lost. I wasn’t sure how Blake did it because he seemed to win more than his fair share against her.
“Are you having fun?” The laughter was back in her voice.
“We haven’t done any spelunking again, yet. That’s tomorrow.”
“Is that what the kids are calling it nowadays?” More laughter.
I flushed even though she couldn’t see me. “It’s not like that.”
She laughed harder. “Like I said, you can tell your mama that, kiddo, but you can’t keep the truth from me.”
Jake used to call me kiddo. Cam had too, but not as often as she did now with Jake gone. Sometimes I wondered if his soul had embedded itself into her when he’d died. After all, he hadn’t been able to live without her in life, why would death be any different? There was still so much of him that seemed to surround her.
“Seriously,” I finally responded.
“Has he kissed you?”
Silence.
“Details!”
“It was nice.”
“Nice!!! Jesus. I’m sending Blake after him. A hot guy like that shouldn’t be kissing nice.” She sounded thoroughly insulted on my behalf, and I had to laugh.
“God. You’re awful. It was way more than nice, okay? It was… earth-shattering.”
“Now that’s better.” Cam was smug.
“I’m hanging up now.”
“No! Don’t go! I’m bored to tears. Tell me something else. What’s the rest of the band like?”
I spent the next hour talking to her about the band, and karaoke, and how Derek and I had gotten lost. How he was reading to me as I drove, and how I felt more comfortable with him than I had with anyone in forever. Maybe ever. She listened, which wasn’t something Old Cam had been good at, but New Cam worked hard to do.
After that, she had to pee, and I had to attend to the gnawing hunger that was chewing its way through my stomach. So, I went down to the café and found a sandwich and wandered out to a park down the street to do some reading.
Instead of reading, I found myself looking at the pictures I’d taken and posted over the last couple days. I’d posted pictures of the caving trip, and the karaoke bar, and the scenery.
I scrolled back slowly through my pictures—years’ worth—until I got to the one that always made me stop. It was of Jake and Cam. He’d pulled her up against him, with his chin leaning on her head and her arms wrapped around him. Her eyes were closed with a peaceful smile on her face. They had fit perfectly together. As if God had molded them as one cookie before dividing it down the middle and sending it to Earth.
I loved and hated this picture because it made me wish all over again that I could have taken Jake’s place. He had so much to live for. So many people who were looking to him. I hadn’t even had a best friend past eighth grade once Harry had moved away. I had just floated around at the edge of Cam’s world.
When I’d met Hayden, I’d wanted so badly to be the other half of his cookie like Cam had been Jake’s. I’d wanted to fit in his world and in his arms like God had made me just for him. But I hadn’t. Not even when he told me things I knew he never told Marcie about his dad and the App World that his dad ran and that he wanted so badly to take over.
I guess God, or destiny, or whatever is out there knew best, because the truth was that even if Hayden had chosen me, it wouldn’t have worked. I wouldn’t have been able to go with him. I had a family that I couldn’t leave. I had a dealership to run so Daddy and Cam’s daddy could retire. I wasn’t just taking it over because I felt responsible. I liked the dealership. I liked the people, and the community, and how we could help people get the vehicles they needed in their lives. So maybe destiny had made Hayden choose Marcie so that I wouldn’t be tempted to leave behind the things that I needed more than belonging to someone as their other half.
My alarm went off, reminding me that I needed to go get ready for the show. But I wasn’t smiling anymore. I was wondering again how in all that is holy I had ended up on a spelunking adventure with a musician who promised me nothing but kisses and charm.
I couldn’t quite shake my morose mood as I showered and straightened my hair again and then put on a new black A-line tank and my new jeans, which I knew I’d regret in the heat, but went with the tank so nicely. I finished it off with my new patterned wedges and looked in the mirror on the closet. I was amazed at how normal I looked. How twenty-something. Instead of the old-before-my-time look that usually accompanied my reflection.
I was still Mia. But Mia with an edge that had never existed. Cam would be proud. Wynn would be shocked. Jake and Mama would have told me to go change. And Hayden? I didn’t know what Hayden would have thought. Did it matter?
Just as I was getting ready to leave, I got a text from Derek.
DEREK: Hey Miss Mia, have you left yet?
ME: No. Was almost ready.
DEREK: Can you do me a huge favor?
ME: Ummmmmm…
DEREK: Get your mind out of the gutter, Phillips.
I laughed. It felt good after the melancholy I’d felt all afternoon.
DEREK: Can you pick up our food order at Aristotle’s? It’s next
to The Criterion. I’m sure your Google Map thingy will tell you where. No food here, and Mitch is already whining about his blood sugar.
ME: Sure, no problem.
DEREK: Sorry to make you run errands. That isn’t why you’re here.
ME: Who’s apologizing now?
DEREK: Hurry! I need to see you.
I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. When was the last time anyone had “needed” to see me? Never—that’s the honest to God truth. My parents didn’t count. Parents needing to see you was completely different because that was normal and expected. This… this need… I realized I didn’t even require fancy words to make me turn to mush in the mush pot. Just those five simple words, “I need to see you.”
I took a Lyft to the restaurant, and a guy at the counter had to help me to the car with the boxes of pizza and pasta. It was a crazy amount of food for the five guys, which begged the question of who else was with them backstage?
Thank God the Lyft driver knew his way around the venue and could drop me off at the back entrance after Derek cleared it with security.
Mitch and Lonnie met me at the back door. Mitch came out first and dead stopped, making Lonnie run into him like a cartoon character, which made me smile.
Mitch whistled.
“Holy crap, Phillips, you look good.”
“Dude.” Lonnie pushed him aside and took me in. Neither of their appraisals made me tingle. Only one person could do that these days it seemed. Instead, it just made me happy. My heart lifting again from my funk like it always did around this band of crazies.
The Lyft driver opened his trunk, and the guys helped me with the food. The three of us headed into the backstage area where we were overtaken by people hustling about as if the earth could be saved by their movements. I clutched my bag and the two boxes of pizzas as I tried to keep up in my new wedges.
We got to a staging area, and the other guys were there, but not Derek. We set up the food, and not only the band, but all the stagehands dove into it like it was their first meal in months.
“Where’s Derek?” I finally asked Owen as he handed me a plate with a slice of pepperoni and olive pizza on it, remembering from our time in McMinnville what I liked.
“He went up to get your ticket and VIP pass so you wouldn’t have to go fight for it.”
That made me all squishy inside. That Derek was looking out for me. I had just taken a bite of the pizza when I first sensed him. He’d stopped on seeing me, just like Mitch had, but he just stared. No whistle. No comment. No one else had seen him yet. He was still quite a few feet away. He inched his finger at me, asking me to go over there. I tried to swallow the bite I had taken as I slowly made my way to him.
When I reached him, he took me in all over again.
Finally, after what felt like forever, he said “This is a good look on you.” His mischievous smile with the stretched cleft appeared on his face.
“Oh, come on, you know you like the pantsuit better,” I tried to tease.
He grabbed my hand and pulled me up close to him so that my entire body was tucked up against his front.
“I’d say my body disagrees.” His voice was husky and sexy, and I could feel his body part that disagreed pushing against his jeans and my tank.
He kissed my temple, and I melted into him. He took the VIP pass he had in his hand and placed it over my head, caressing my neck as he moved the long length of my hair out of his way.
“So much skin, Little Bird, and not enough time.”
And he was right. Not enough time to recover from being a puddle of goo. Behind us, Rob yelled out, “Derek, man, you better come get some chow before Mitch devours it all.”
I heard Mitch mumble something about blood sugar and everyone was hooting. It wasn’t serious—the blood sugar thing. It wasn’t Jake. It was just a joke because the man was always starving, but it tugged at me anyway when they teased about it.
Derek entwined his long, musician fingers with mine, and we walked back toward the table and the gang eating there. Rob shoved a plate covered with pasta at Derek, and we found a spot on a set of amps to sit. We ate quietly while the buzz around us continued in the normal playful manner that surrounded the guys whenever they were together.
Pretty soon, a tall, model-like redhead showed up. She was in a black dress that showed off long everything. Long legs, long arms, long neck, and a barely curved body that I’d always envied, because when it comes to bodies, the grass is truly always greener on the other side. She embedded herself on Rob’s arm.
“That’s Rob’s wife, Trista,” Derek said when he noticed me watching her.
“Did Owen really have a thing for her?” I asked because even as I watched, Owen was off flirting relentlessly with some female stagehand.
Derek shrugged. “I think all the boys liked Trista.”
I looked at him. “Even you?” I asked. He shook his head slowly, watching me.
“No. She’s not my type.”
“Tall, beautiful, redheads? Come on,” I said, putting my plate down and eyeing him like a teacher eyes a kid out of his seat.
He put down his own plate, grabbed my wrist, and pulled me onto his lap. I let him as I tried to ignore the panic that fluttered into my heart.
“Haven’t you figured it out yet?” His voice was still husky. I worried it was from too much reading and singing, but it only made my heart beat faster.
I couldn’t respond, so I just shook my head.
“I think you’ve been my only type my entire life.”
I couldn’t help it, but I eye-rolled. Because, really? I’d known the guy less than a week and he was trying to give me a line like that? About the rest of our lives? Who talks like that? Especially on a three week joy ride?
“Did you just eye-roll me?” he teased. I went to push myself off of him, but he held on even tighter. “If I didn’t have a gig right now, I’d be able to show you just what I meant.”
I eye-rolled again. Cam would be singing my praises if she were here. He took several strands of my hair in his finger and twirled them up till they were near my mouth, like he had the other day. It was sexy as all get out and made sure I couldn’t go anywhere unless I wanted to come away with a bald spot.
His finger teased the corner of my lips. He leaned in as if he was going to kiss me in front of the band and the rest of the world that seemed to be backstage, but then George showed up at his side.
George frowned at me. I could already tell he didn’t like me. I wasn’t good with people not liking me.
But I also quickly realized that George was a sleazy car salesman. I knew sleazy car salesmen. After all, I’d been around them my whole life. We tried to avoid that type at my daddy’s dealership like bats avoided the sun. George’s slicked dark hair and stupid goatee were supposed to seem hip, I supposed, but to me it just made him seem like he wanted to be the rock star but hadn’t made the cut.
“Derek, you wanted to run through that song one more time before the show started, right?”
“George, you haven’t met Miss Mia. Mia, George. George, Mia,” Derek said, while keeping his finger entwined in my hair, although it was no longer teasing my lips.
I stuck out my hand. George looked down at it, hesitated, and then shook it. “Mia. Good to finally meet you. You sure have this man all turned upside down.”
“George,” Derek warned.
George ignored him. “He hasn’t been quite himself since he met you.”
“I’d say the same thing about me. I really should be home running the car dealership instead of spelunking with a musician,” I told him with an attempt at a friendly smile.
He eyeballed me. “You run a car dealership?” The doubt running through his voice angered me. After all, I was just a twenty-two-year-old girl with size-E boobs. What would I know about a business, right?
“We pulled in about forty-five million dollars in sales last year. Number one dealership in the non-Nashvill
e area. We’re pretty proud of that,” I told him. He eyed me again, still doubtful.
Screw him. Screw all men like him. I felt my temper rise. I pulled myself from Derek’s lap, hair screaming before he let go.
“I’ll just see you after the show. Good luck!” I started to walk away, but Derek caught my hand in his.
He turned to George. “I’ll be out in five,” he said to his manager, then waited while George glared at me one more time before huffing away.
Derek turned to me. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t let him make you feel inadequate.”
I just stared at this beautiful BB that had entered my life like a star falling from the sky. How could he possibly know that George had made me feel that way?
“He’s just anxious that things will change. But he also knows I sound better than I have in months. That’s because I finally have someone to sing for.”
“Wh-what?”
He looked at me like he was surprised that I was surprised at his words. He sighed and pulled me close again.
“I physically want to damage this bastard who wrote you that letter. You, Little Bird, have given this old soul something to sing about at last.”
I stared into his gorgeous stormy eyes. “I don’t ever know how to respond to you.”
“Just kiss me for good luck, then.”
I stared at his eyes, and then his mouth, then looked around at the crowd that was trying hard not to watch us backstage. He tugged my chin toward him. “Miss Mia, kiss me.”
So, I did. And he reached into my heart and pulled out several pieces, putting them in his back pocket with the extra guitar picks he carried there. The walls of Mia that were crumbling were being sorted and stored into his possession. I didn’t know how to recover from that.
It certainly wasn’t what I’d wanted for this three week adventure. Was it?
He pulled away, that playful smile on his face, and started to walk toward the curtain, but only got about five strides in before he came back. He kissed me quick in that way I was rapidly getting accustomed to him doing and then disappeared onto the stage.
