No Tomorrow: Chapter 21

The past two months have been a mix of both warp speed and dragging time. I haven’t been sleeping or eating well, and my focus at work has once again been lacking. My brain is either too tired to function or my train of thought is constantly derailed with thoughts of Blue. I’ve been listening to his music practically non-stop, analyzing the lyrics, trying to decipher what they mean and wondering if they’re a key to his feelings or just random words thrown together for the sake of a good song. I’m exhausted, and I’m disappointed in myself for getting so distracted with him again. I should be above this by now, shouldn’t I? I’m older and more mature. I’m stable. I’m professional—most of the time. I’m a mother.

But damn, when it comes to Blue, I always short-circuit. As unsettling as that is, it’s also undeniably exciting.

“Why can’t I go with you, Mommy?” Lyric asks. She’s perched on the bathroom vanity watching me put mascara on. She’s obsessed with makeup lately and loves to put on lip gloss and eye shadow. I have to watch her or she’ll make herself up when I’m not looking.

“Ditra and I are going to a concert, and it’s just for grownups. But you’re going to stay home with Uncle Josh and watch movies and eat popcorn and have lots of fun, okay?”

“Can I have ice cream, too?”

“You can have one scoop.” How can I say no when she’s inherited her ice cream addiction from me? I throw my mascara back into my makeup bag and plant a kiss on her nose just as Ditra appears in my bathroom doorway.

“Are you almost ready?” she asks. “We don’t want to be late. It’ll be a nightmare to find a parking spot.”

Taking a deep breath, I nod and exhale. “Yeah, I think I am.”

She picks up Lyric and settles her down on the floor, and we watch her happily skip off, most likely to find Josh downstairs.

“You look like you’re going to be sick,” Ditra says.

“I feel like I’m going to be sick.”

Ever since Blue walked out of my apartment years ago I’ve daydreamed about seeing him again, and now that day is here. Josh pulled some strings to get VIP meet-and-greet tickets to the No Tomorrow live acoustic show in Boston tonight. With any luck, I’ll be in the same room with Blue for the first time in five years. I’ve never been backstage at a concert before, but hopefully we’ll be able to talk somewhat privately.

Unless he runs when he sees me. Or pretends he doesn’t know who I am. Or…

“Piper?”

I shake my head and re-focus on Ditra. “Hm?”

“Stop freaking out. You’re going to be fine.”

“What if he ignores me? He might be too busy to even talk to me. He has fans now and I’m just a nobody.”

She tilts her head. “Seriously? He mentioned you by name in the CD credits. He left a note in your car. The dude isn’t going to ignore you once you’re right in front of him. Plus, you look drop-dead gorgeous. There’s no way in hell he’s going to blow you off. And if he does? I’ll throat punch him.”

“What if he goes ballistic when I tell him about Lyric? There’s going to be lots of other people there, right? I don’t want to cause any kind of scene.”

“I’m sure he’ll be surprised but I don’t think he’s going to go ballistic. She’s his daughter, and it’s time for him to know she exists. You’re doing the right thing telling him, no matter how awkward it is. That secret baby bullshit some women pull isn’t cool. You’re both adults. He’ll be fine. Maybe a little shocked, but fine. She’s a little girl, not a bomb.”

I wish I felt her confidence, but I have no idea how Blue is going to react when he sees me. I don’t know what kind of person he is now, or what frame of mind he’s currently in with his life. He could be totally level-headed or off the rails.

He could be married. He could have other children. He could have a girlfriend.

Hell—he could have all of the above and Lyric and I might just be a massive inconvenience to him.

Then what?

For two months I’ve been rolling the scenario dice in my head and have come up with several outcomes, ranging from epic disaster to fairytale happy ending.

As Ditra drives us to the concert, I’m only half involved in our idle conversation. The other half of my mind is back to trying to manifest everything I’ve been dreaming of, focusing on the positives, like I did the day Blue disappeared. It didn’t work then, but that doesn’t mean it won’t work now.

There’s power in positive thinking. I’ve read about it, I’ve seen others do it and they got the results they wanted.

So can I.

I can be happy. I can have the life I’ve dreamed of. I can—

“Piper?” Ditra shoves my shoulder. “Snap out of it. No amount of driving yourself crazy is going to change anything. Please stop worrying. Let’s just enjoy the concert. Do you have any idea how lucky we are to have tickets? This shit sold out months ago.”

“I know.” I wonder if the craziness of it shocks Blue as much as it does me. How he used to play for quarters thrown into a jar and now he’s sold out.

Ditra continues to rattle on next to me. “Whatever happens after that, happens. You can’t change it. But let’s have fun and at least appreciate that this drifter dude you dated, the father of your child, went from playing on the streets to being a freakin’ musical legend.”

My stomach lurches. Blue? A legend? “I don’t know about that, Dee.”

She turns the car into the venue parking lot. “It’s true. He’s the real deal.”

Legend. Real deal. None of that means a thing to me. He’s the guy who made me a bracelet, bought me ice cream cones, snuggled with me as rain pattered against the tin roof, sang me to sleep, and ultimately stole my heart.

He’s my first and only love. The legend of my very best memories.

This is the fourth concert I’ve ever been to, and my first unplugged or acoustic performance. In a venue with other musicians and a huge crowd, that is. I watched Blue play unplugged, unhinged, unshowered, unhappily, uninhibited, and a million other un-things many times in the park and in the shed years ago. Back then it didn’t have a fancy name, though. It was just what he did.

And now, as Ditra and I settle into our seats to the left of the stage, I’m shocked by the number of people filing into the hazy room all the while speaking to each other in hushed voices as if this is a library or they’re in the graces of royalty.

I chomp my gum in fascination and watch all the fans, many wearing No Tomorrow T-shirts.

Leaning closer to Ditra, I whisper, “There are T-shirts.”

“Do you want one? There’s a guy out in the lobby selling them. We walked right by him.”

I do want one, but how bad will that look when I talk to Blue later? Standing there wearing a band shirt like a starry-eyed fan? Which I’m not. I mean, I love his music and his voice and I’ve been listening to it all non-stop… but I’m not a fan in the traditional sense of the word.

I’m a fan of him. Of his mind and his heart.

This is so very complicated.

The overhead theater lights dim and people scurry like mice to take their seats as the stage curtain separates.

I’m disappointed when members of a band I don’t recognize take the stage. I had completely forgotten about the opening act. My leg bounces with anxiety as they play songs I’ve never heard of, and I’m relieved when they finish and the curtain hides the stage again.

My teeth mash together in frustration. Does this really need to be so torturous?

After a few minutes, the heavy black curtain, deliberately torn, faded, and tattered, slowly pulls away to reveal the stage set up once again—still devoid of No Tomorrow.

The drummer, whose name I’ve forgotten, appears from the shadows and all but disappears when he sits behind his set. One by one, each band member enters the stage, and my heart pounds harder and faster, my eyes riveted to that shadowy, elusive entry point.

Waiting.

And there he is. Slowly sauntering, guitar in hand, to the stool and mic at the center of the stage, sandwiched between the other two guitarists. The crowd cheers and whoops, and he gives them the same humble, grateful nod he used to give the listeners in the park.

He looks so much the same, so much still in the world of his own head, that I almost expect to see Acorn sitting beside him up there on the stage. My chest heaves with deep breaths as a mix of anger and intense yearning clash inside me. How dare he sit there looking so normal—so untouched. For years I’ve felt that the scars I bear from his massacre of my heart must be visible to others in some way. Surely I don’t smile nearly as much, or as brightly, as I once did. I no longer giggle at silly jokes. I can’t read romance books or watch movies based on love stories anymore.

I’m changed.

But he looks the same. He’s still insanely good-looking. Maybe even more so now as his hair is longer and fluffier and he’s not quite as thin as I remember. His sparkling blue eyes are just as striking from my tenth-row seat as they were the last time I looked into them up close, when he kissed me goodbye, winked at me, and walked away.

The all-too-familiar lump of emotion forms in my throat.

He may have walked out of my apartment and my life, but he definitely has not walked out of my heart. Not by a long shot.

And as much as he’s hurt me, and shredded my heart to bits, just the sight of him still draws me in, possessing me like the words of a favorite song that I can’t not sing.

I feel like I’m about to combust in my seat as I grip the arm rests. I ache to walk up to him on that stage, see that beautiful smile he used to flash at me, and throw my arms around him. I want to grab his hand and run from this building with him. To the shed. To the place where we murmured undying love to each other over and over again and slept wrapped around each other, shivering from the icy drafts.

These people surrounding me don’t know him. They know his voice and the sound of his guitar, but they don’t know what his lips feel like, what his whispers sound like, what his body feels like.

They don’t know he agonizes over every note and every lyric. They don’t know how I listened and watched him with worry and love.

They don’t know about ladybug myths and rain.

I do.

Tears well up in my eyes and my vision of him on stage shimmies, as if he’s in an ocean of tears.

He lights up a cigarette with casual finesse as if hundreds of people aren’t sitting here waiting for him. Not to mention I’m pretty sure smoking is prohibited in here. But when has he ever followed rules? Settling the guitar on his thigh, he leans forward slightly to adjust the mic, and I catch a glimpse of feathery blue in his wavy hair, and my mind and heart are transformed back in time again. When he was mine and I was his and all these movements and mannerisms were as comforting and familiar to me as an old childhood teddy bear.

Why did he leave me? Why has he chosen this life full of strangers to play for when he could be playing for me in all our special places, making me breathless like only he can?

“Are you okay?” Ditra whispers in my ear.

I nod, unable to look away from the man on the stage who’s still got my heart in a vice, afraid I’ll miss something—a smile or a glance my way. I wonder if he would just lift his head, not hide behind the hair falling across his face… if he would just look out at the crowd, would he notice me? Would our eyes lock like they did way back when in the park when we just clicked? Would he feel the wave of memories course through his veins like I am? The undeniable pull of fate? Would he miss my kiss and my touch—would he miss me—so much that he’ll want to grab my hand and run?

I’d go. I’d sprint out of here with him without a second thought and run anywhere just to be with him again.

“Somehow he’s even hotter, isn’t he?” Ditra observes, breaking into my thoughts. “I guess he can afford to eat now. He’s got some meat on him.”

I noticed. I’m noticing everything.

I want to smack my best friend for also noticing and for pointing it out, because that means every other female in the room must be noticing and I don’t want them to. I want Blue to be mine and only mine to look at.

But without introduction or warning, Blue’s gravelly, tortured tone is filling the room:

The lyrics, so seductive in their sadness, come to life on his lips and in his half-closed eyes. Blue has always sung as if the words were being torn right out of his soul and I’m relieved to see that neither time nor fame has changed that.

I’ve never witnessed such an intimate concert, not in person or on television. The stillness of the crowd speaks volumes of their respect and love for the band. We’re all mesmerized, savoring every note and every word, waiting until the end of each song to clap and whistle in appreciation.

At the end of the third song, Blue finally looks at the crowd as if he’s just realized we’re here, and flashes a crooked, shy smile that I’m quite sure melted the hearts of every female in the room.

Me included.

“Thanks for being here with us tonight. We’re honored to play so close to where we all grew up.” He takes a sip from a glass that’s sitting on the floor next to his stool.

Didn’t he grow up in New Jersey? Hm. Maybe to him that’s close?

The crowd claps softly.

“Once upon a time, I left my heart in New England,” he continues, and my heart nearly leaps into my throat. Is he referring to me? Some other woman? Acorn, perhaps? “And I ain’t never been the same.”

He glances at Reece to his left, and they sing together in perfect synchrony.

By the end of the concert, I’m a twisted mess of awe, heartache, and pride. Even if I had never known Blue personally, I would leave this theater feeling touched, forever changed by the band’s talent, their obvious camaraderie, and Blue’s charismatic stage presence. Tonight would be a memory I would cherish forever as something rare and special, as I’m sure most of the people surrounding me feel as well.

“That was amazing,” I say to Ditra as we stand and slowly make our way to the center aisle. “His voice is incredible. Everything was incredible.”

“It was definitely one of the best live performances I’ve ever seen. His voice is insane. And that other guy he sang with? Sheer perfection.”

“I think that’s Reece. I think they were friends in high school.”

“I have a hardcore thing for him. I hope I can get his autograph backstage.”

Just the word backstage sends me into an instant panic. Weaving through the crowd, we inch closer and closer to a guy with huge arms and a beard down to his chest who’s checking VIP passes before allowing people to pass toward the hall that leads backstage. Ditra hands him ours and he quickly scans them and hands them back to us.

“Down there to the left,” he says without making any eye contact.

“Josh is amazing for getting these tickets,” Ditra exclaims when we’re far away from Big and Beardy.

Halting, I pull Ditra off to the side so the people behind us can keep going. “I’m not sure I can do this. This is crazy, and kind of stalkerish, isn’t it?”

“Piper, stop it. First, if you think I’m going to miss the chance of meeting these guys in person, you’re insane. Second, it’s not crazy. You know him. You have a history. And a child. Remember?”

My shaking legs convince me to lean against the wall. “I know. I just feel like he’s so out of my league right now. So much time has passed. I don’t know him anymore, not like this. And I feel like I’m cornering him, coming out of nowhere.”

“It doesn’t matter. You need closure. And he needs to know he’s a father. End of story.” She grabs my arm and pulls me away from the wall. “Now let’s go.”

She practically drags me down the hallway to a lounge which is being guarded by a guy who looks almost identical to the first guy who checked our passes a few seconds ago. Big and Beardy Two waves us in and just like that, I’m standing a few feet away from Blue. Thankfully, he’s got his back to the door and is engaged in a conversation with a small group of people and doesn’t see me enter the room, giving me time to compose myself.

I didn’t know what to expect for this meet-n-greet session, but I envisioned a room packed with people drinking, smoking weed, and trying to hook up with the band members while their music blasted in the background. In reality, it’s nothing like that. The room is surprisingly quiet with fewer than twenty people chatting on bright orange couches or standing, sipping drinks and nibbling tiny sandwiches.

Ditra points to a bar and a table spread with food on the other side of the room. “I’m going to go get a drink. Do you want to come with me?”

I’m afraid if I put anything in my mouth I’m going to get sick. “No, I just want to get his attention and talk to him.”

“Do you want me to go with you?”

I shake my head and run my tongue over my lips. “I think it’s better if I approach him alone. I don’t want him to feel ganged up on.”

“Agreed. I’ll be milling around trying to get Reece to notice me.” She winks at me and dashes off with a sway of her hips. I shake my head, fluff my hair with my hands, and slowly walk over to Blue.

“Hey. Enjoy the show?” A huge wall of chest is suddenly in front of me, attached to a head of long black hair, an easy smile, and dark eyes.

I blink up at him, unable to find my voice. I wasn’t expecting anyone to talk to me.

“Um, yes. Very much,” I finally squeak out.

He raises his dark eyebrows as he lifts his beer bottle to his lips. “You don’t sound so sure.”

I smile reassuringly. “You just caught me off guard. It was amazing. You guys sound even better live than you do on your CD.”

He grins with amusement. “I hope that’s a compliment?”

“Yes, definitely.”

“I’m Reece, by the way,” he says.

“I know,” I reply, wishing Ditra would get her ass back over here. Instead she’s already off flirting with some random dude with a ring in his nose and a Mohawk, completely ignoring me. “I’m Piper…and I’m actually hoping to talk to Blue….”

His eyes narrow at me. “Piper? You’re not the Piper, are you?”

Reece’s question is completely unexpected. I can’t picture Blue talking about me to his friends and bandmates. What I wouldn’t give to be a fly on the wall to hear those conversations.

“I’m not sure if I’m the Piper you’re referring to.” I refuse to assume anything at this point. Even though my name is rare, it doesn’t mean Blue hasn’t met another Piper or two.

“The one he’s been all fucked on for years?” Reece lets out a low laugh. “I guess I owe him fifty bucks because I bet him a few years back that you didn’t exist and you were just one of his fucked-up hallucinations. But here you are.”

I smile weakly. “Here I am.”

He turns and yells across the room. “Hey, Blue! Look who’s here.”

My heart’s no longer racing. I’m sure it’s completely stopped. Blue turns slowly to Reece, and his gaze drops to meet mine, his eyes widening with surprise and disbelief. He turns back to the two women he was talking to, then moments later turns again to cross the room.

“Ladybug….” He says the nickname so affectionately I almost burst into tears. I force myself to not let that happen. I will not be the blubbering ex in a room full of people.

Reece watches us stare at each other, downs the remainder of his beer, then playfully smacks Blue on the back.

“I’ll leave you two alone.” He nods to me. “Nice meeting you. Glad to see you’re real.”

Not taking my eyes from Blue’s, I reply to Reece absently, “Nice meeting you, too.”

Blue lets out a low breath. “Holy shit. I never expected to see you here.” A smile plays across his lips. “I’ve missed you. So fucking much.”

“I miss you, too.” My voice wavers over the words. “I never expected to find you here. Like this.”

“Yeah. It’s been a bit of a ride.” He shoves his fingers into the front of his hair and pushes it back from his face. “So how are you? How’s Acorn?”

It’s the dog’s name, that sweet, furry ball of love’s name, that finally snaps me out of this surreal, polite cloud we’re standing under. I raise my hand to slap him and he catches my wrist mid-air and yanks me tight against his chest. Holding me there, he bends his face down into my neck.

“You can slap the shit out of me, rip my heart out. Whatever you want. But not here.” His lips brush across my ear, sending shivers up my spine and over my scalp. “I don’t want your picture on every tabloid tomorrow with some nasty rumor attached to it. You’re too good for that. Okay?”

I nod against his shoulder and slowly pull away to face his dark, sorrowful eyes. I imagine mine look the same.

“How could you?” I ask, keeping my voice low. “How could you just leave me like that? And your dog? What kind of person does something like that?”

“The kind who knows he can’t be around good things without breaking them.”

I have to give him credit for his ability to admit that straight to my face with dead-on honesty.

Choking back a sob that I refuse to let out, I shake my head. “No. You don’t get to proclaim yourself an asshole and just walk away. It’s completely unacceptable and shitty.”

“You’re right.”

A rogue tear slides down my cheek. “You just left us. You took the easy way out.”

He looks at the floor for a moment, as if he’s letting the words sink in, then returns his gaze back to me. “There was nothing easy about leaving the only two things I care about.”

I want to ask him why he did it then, if it was so hard, but this isn’t what I want. For years I dreamed of this moment, and now it’s heading straight into the direction I feared it would go. A place filled with anger and accusations and no closure, resolution, or new beginning at all. How on earth am I supposed to tell him about our beautiful, smart, adorable little girl in the midst of this awkwardness?

I can’t help but notice a few people standing off to the side, stealing impatient sideways glances at us, and I realize I’m keeping him from fans who paid to spend time with him.

“I should go,” I say softly. “But I have to tell—”

His hair flings over his shoulder as he shakes his head. “Don’t go.” He reaches for my hand and pulls it into his. “Not yet, okay? Have dinner with me. We’ll talk.” Hope flashes across his face—an expression I’ve not seen on his face many times before. “I know you’re pissed off. But I don’t think you came here just to see my band, or to slap me. Right?”

I relax my tense shoulders, despite the turmoil spinning up inside me. “No. I wanted to see you and talk to you.”

“Then let’s get out of here and do that.”

Glancing around at the roomful of fans I ask, “Are you allowed to leave?”

“Of course.” He smiles devilishly. “I can do whatever I want.”

I study his expression before I answer, trying to gauge his intentions. Everything about him seems genuine. No alarm bells are ringing in my head. Nothing about him seems shady or deceitful.

And he’s still holding my hand. In a roomful of fans, bandmates, groupies, and journalists. That must count for something.

“I came with Ditra, she drove me.”

“Okay. I’ll get you home later if that’s what you’re worried about. Or she can come with us.”

“Er, I think I’d rather she not tag along. Let me find her and let her know.”

He nods. “While you do that I’m going to say hi to a few people and sign some things so everyone’s happy. Just come get me when you’re ready and we’ll take off.”

The way he squeezes my hand before he releases it reassures me that everything is okay and I’m not making a huge mistake by going off with him. Maybe there’s a way we can start over, after all. I may be jumping the gun, but if we still love each other, and if he accepts Lyric, then we could find a way to be together and make it work. People have gotten through worse circumstances and come out stronger.

It looks like Ditra gave up on her plan of hooking up with Reece because after scouring the room I find her still talking to the guy with the Mohawk. They’ve moved to a large chair in the corner and she’s perched on his lap, touching his spikey hair.

“So? How’d it go?” she asks when I approach them.

“Good, so far. I haven’t really talked to him much yet. He wants me to go have dinner and talk.”

“When?”

“Now. Tonight.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I think I’m going to go. Do you mind?”

She waves her hand at me. “Not a bit. I might be busy, anyway.” She leans her head against the guy’s head and the mother in me is petrified his hair is going to stab one of her eyes out. “How are you going to get home? Do you want me to wait around?”

“No, he says he’ll get me home.”

I ignore Mr. Mohawk’s sudden obnoxious laugh, hoping he’s just being a jerk and doesn’t have inside info about Blue having a rep for handing out I’ll get you home lines to various unsuspecting women. Ditra frowns and leans back up, straightening her shirt in the process which somehow has gotten all askew. “Are you sure? I don’t want you abandoned in Boston in the middle of the night.”

“I’ll be fine.” I hope.

“Okay, if you’re sure. I’m going to hang around for a little while, too. You go have fun, be strong, and call me!”

“I will.” I give her friend the side-eye. “You have fun, too.”

Hand-in-hand, we walk across the street to the restaurant in the hotel that Blue and the band are staying in for the weekend. We sit at a quiet table in the back that Blue thinks should hide us from concert-goers.

We don’t open our menus or ask each other what we’re having.

We don’t casually chat about the concert or the weather.

We stare at each other.

We hold hands across the table, like lovers do.

I concentrate hard to control the tremor of panic in my chest and take steady breaths. I knew it would be hard seeing him—exciting, confusing, emotional—but my body seems to have its own ideas. I have to shove away the fear and keep breathing or I’ll start to feel sick. And I want to stay present with him, no matter how many directions my body wants to run.

“You’re still wearing it.” He thumbs the beaded bracelet. It’s faded and tattered now, much like my heart.

“I told you I’d never take it off.”

That makes him smile. “I thought you would have taken it off so you wouldn’t be reminded of me every day after what happened.”

I almost laugh. I have a much bigger and better reminder of him in the form of a tiny person with his same soulful eyes.

“What did happen, Blue? I thought we were happy. We had such a nice time that night.”

“We did. It was one of the best nights of my life. Every second of us together is burned into my memory.”

I stare at our hands, at his thumb caressing my knuckles. “I don’t understand. Was it the apartment? Did it scare you? Did you think I was going to try to force you to move in? Give you an ultimatum? I wasn’t going to. I was willing to accept the way you wanted to live.”

“I know that.”

Patiently, I wait for him to give me more of an answer. I refuse to keep prodding at him and making myself appear desperate. Even though I am—I’m absolutely desperate for an explanation, something to make me understand. The air is thick between us; the silence expands like a balloon about to burst. The waitress brings us water and he asks her for a few more minutes. Our hands are still clasped, resting against the unopened laminated menus.

“You wanted things I couldn’t give you. You deserved things I had no way to give.”

“Did I want to live together in my nice apartment? Yes. Of course I did. I wanted you out of the shed and in a nice, warm bed. I wanted you to have a bathroom and a closet of clean clothes. I wanted you to have a kitchen full of things to eat and drink. I wanted us to be able to sit on the couch and watch movies. I’m not going to lie; of course I wanted all of those things—that life—for both of us. Together.”

He nods, and now it’s his turn to fixate on our hands.

“But if given the choice,” I continue. “I would much rather have you in my life, than to lose you. None of those things were worth losing you over. Not to me.”

“You felt that way then, Piper. But in time you would’ve changed your mind.”

I honestly don’t think I ever would have changed my mind.

“Neither one of us knows that. Maybe I would have, maybe I wouldn’t. Maybe you would have changed in time, Blue. Did you ever think of that? Look at you now. When you walked out my door you were a homeless street musician with a couple bucks in your pocket and a lost dog. You had nothing. Now five years later you’re in one of the most popular bands in the country. A lot has changed, and you obviously did something to make that happen, and I don’t understand why we couldn’t have stayed together while all this was going on. I never would have held you back, I—”

His head snaps up. “Is that what you thought I was?”

I furrow my eyebrows together. “What?”

“A homeless, penniless musician with a stray dog?”

I shrug uncomfortably. “I guess so. Yes. But it didn’t matter to me. I loved you for who you were, and how you made me feel.”

“I never would have dragged you along on the ride to get here, Piper. You had a great job, a nice place to live, you were settling down. You had a direction.”

“So?”

“And I didn’t. I was a fucking tumbleweed, a twisted-up mess of dirt and weeds bouncing around in the wind.”

“That’s a pretty harsh analogy.”

“It’s the truth. I couldn’t be still, Piper. I know it sucks and I know it makes me a huge fucking douchebag. But at least I loved you and Acorn enough to know you were both much better off without me. And I guess it made me feel good, knowing you two were together. I knew you’d take care of him.”

“I did. I still am. He’s the best dog in the world.” Acorn has taken care of me, too. He stayed with me on the bathroom floor when I suffered with morning sickness. He snuggled up on the bed with me when I cried myself to sleep every night. And he’s been the perfect guardian and furry best friend to Lyric.

“He’s okay?” he asks with a lilt of hesitation in his voice.

“He’s great. Still dragging his penguin around.”

Relief rides out of him on a long breath. “I’m glad. And you?”

“I’m good. Still at the same company, still living in the same town. Still have Archie. Still reading a book a week.”

My heart blips when he winks at me. “And obviously listening to much better music.”

Now. Now is the time to tell him about our daughter.

I pull my hand from his and take a quick sip of water. The glass is thick and heavy, damp with moisture, and it almost slips from my trembling hand. He takes it from me and places it back down on the cork coaster.

“Blue, I have to tell—”

“You ready to order? The kitchen is closing soon.”

God. Flo is back, with her pad and pen in hand, with the worst timing ever in the history of time.

“How ’bout two cheeseburgers with fries?” Blue suggests, looking at me exactly the way Lyric does when she’s excited about something. “Like we used to?”

I smile up at the waitress. “Two cheeseburgers and fries would be perfect.”

“You got it.” She scribbles on her notepad before scooping up our menus and walking away.

“I miss it here,” he says wistfully. “New England.”

“Where do you live now?”

“Still here and there and everywhere, only different now. Mostly in buses and planes and hotels. When we’re not traveling, I share a condo with Reece in Seattle.”

I’m relieved to hear he’s in an actual residence and not living in a garage or in a cave of bats, but I was hoping he lived closer and not so far away.

“I’m so proud of you, Blue. Seeing you tonight on that stage, in front of all those people, was incredible. I always knew you were talented, but you’ve completely blown me away. It’s just… wild.”

“I guess.”

“Are you happy?”

“No.”

His answer surprises me and I tilt my head at him like a curious cat. “But why? You’re living a dream.”

“Someone else’s dream. Not mine.”

“Then what’s your dream?”

He straightens the salt and pepper dispensers. Then he lines the bottles of ketchup and steak sauce perfectly next to the salt and pepper before he answers. “Being free. Flying like a bird. Not literally… but being weightless. Soaring above all the noise and the crazy. Gliding away from the storm.”

“Can’t you do that? I’m assuming you have the money now to go on relaxing vacations… or to pay people to handle stressful stuff for you?”

“I wish it was that easy.”

“Are you enjoying it at all? Writing songs, bringing them to life for millions of people to love? You had the entire audience under your spell tonight.”

“That part, yeah. It’s all about the music and the words for me, you know that. It’s the other crap, the never-ending circus of bullshit I can’t stand.”

“I guess that sort of comes with the territory?”

“Yup.”

Our food arrives and we eat in silence for a few minutes before he puts his burger down and looks up at me.

“I didn’t want to hurt you, Piper,” he says. “Back then….”

Swallowing my food, I nod. I know his words are true. I may not understand him, but I believe him.

His steely cobalt eyes practically hypnotize me. “I meant what I wrote in the note. You’re in my veins. You’re what makes me tick. You’ve heard the songs. You know I’m not getting over you.”

I sway under his gaze and the weight of his words. Words I’ve waited for and wished for, for what feels like forever. Words that feed my starving heart.

“Do you want to?” I ask.

“No, babe. I really fucking don’t.”

The sound of my heartbeat whooshes in my ears. My voice comes out just an octave above a whisper. “Good. I don’t want you to.”

A silent agreement passes between us. It’s not spoken, but I heard it. I felt it. We didn’t read the fine print, we didn’t take time to think it over, we just signed on the dotted line with our hearts and our desires and the deal was done.