Chapter 14 #2
He sits upright, swinging his feet to the floor before glancing at me from the corner of his eye. “Everything I come up with isn’t right.”
“What makes it wrong?” I toss the pillow from my lap and face him.
“It doesn’t sound like me.” His face twists with a look of irritation and pain, and I take a chance this may be the right time to push him to consider what he really wants, not what everyone else wants—including his fans.
“By Rhys James…” I say slowly. “Do you mean the one the label created or the Rhys James right here?” I tap his chest, close to his heart.
He grabs my hand, then studies me, the uncertainty on his face growing. “You said the one right here is boring. I heard you when you were talking to Georgia.”
My face heats as the memory of what I said just a few weeks ago comes back to me. I’m embarrassed that I said it but also crushed by the hurt on Rhys’s face.
“Rhys, I’m so sorry. I—”
“And grumpy,” he adds with a teasing grin, but there’s still hurt in his eyes.
“It’s the boring part that made me realize I should stick with the formula that works.
I have to be myself off stage, though, so if you’re not as keen on him as you are on my onstage self, then we oughta reconsider Italy. ”
“We’re not going to Italy.” I pull my hand away and swing a leg over both his to kneel across his lap before cupping his face in my hands.
His eyes snap as I gaze into them, a smile playing on his lips.
“And I’m very keen on this Rhys right here.
” I brush his lips with mine. “I was an idiot for ever thinking he was boring.” I let my mouth linger on his a little longer. “And I would love to hear his music.”
I circle my arms around Rhys’s neck and trail kisses along his jawline. His fingers curl around my waist, and a sigh scrapes across his throat as he pulls me closer. He finds my mouth, our kisses deepen, and the world slows.
But I don’t let it stop this time. Not when what I’m feeling for Rhys has more to do with who I’m discovering he is than wanting to check things off a list. I want to get to know the real Rhys, and that means slowing down to give us both time to do that.
“Can I hear what you have?” I ask as we break apart, and I move from his lap to the space right next to him.
Rhys shakes his head a little too emphatically. “It’s not good.”
I don’t push, even though I suspect he’s wrong.
“What about the original ‘Fa-La La-La Land?’ Can I hear that?” I lean my head on his shoulder and lace my fingers through his.
“You’ve heard it.” With his opposite hand, he traces his finger around each of my knuckles, sending shockwaves up my arm.
“You mean when you’ve hummed it? That didn’t really give me a sense of what it’s about.” I try to focus on what we’re talking about instead of the desire threatening to take over. The problem is, thinking about Rhys singing is like handing a prisoner the key to his cell.
“How about I sing the one everyone knows? You like that one.”
“You hate it.”
“Not the point. You and everyone else love it.” The forced lightness in his voice brings everything else I’m feeling to a sudden stop.
I sit up to look him straight in the eye. “It is the point, Rhys. You don’t have to be a different person on stage than you are off. People will love you for who you are and what’s in your heart. And if they don’t, that’s on them, not you.”
Rhys stares back at me, angry clouds forming in his eyes. “And you don’t always have to be an optimist, Stella. I’ve been in this business a long time. I have to be realistic about my career. You can call that being grumpy or boring, but I call it being practical.”
I’m tempted to argue with him, but I know when a storm is coming, and there’s one brewing on Rhys’s face. So, I decide to take cover until it passes.
“Okay, you’ve broken me. Let’s find something to cross off my list.” I jump up and tug him to his feet.
“Italy.” He presses close and glowers at me, but the storm clouds are gone.
“I told you—I can’t drop everything and fly to Italy.” Even though the more he talks about it, the more I want to.
“Now you decide to be a realist? You disappoint me, La-La.”
I open my mouth to argue, but Rhys puts his finger to my lips to stop me.
“What about over Thanksgiving? Is your mum working then?”
I stare at him. I thought he was teasing, but he’s serious. Rhys James wants to take Mom and me to Italy for gelato. This is an opportunity of a lifetime. Not only for me, but for Mom too.
Rhys is right. This is no time to be practical.
“I have to ride a Vespa while we’re there. That’s number seven. And we have to be back in time for Paradise’s Christmas Parade. That’s not on my list, but I’ve never missed it, and I have to ask Nick for what I want.”
Rhys’s face brightens. “We can make both happen. When’s the parade?”
My smile matches his. “The day after Thanksgiving. Friday morning.”
“Ripper. I’ve never been to a Christmas parade.”
I start to laugh, but the earnest look on Rhys’s face stops me. He thought my we meant the two of us, not just Mom and me. I was surprised before. It’s nothing compared to how I feel now.
“You really want to go to Paradise for the Christmas Parade?”
“‘Course I do.” Rhys slides his arms around my waist. “I’d like to see if Santa can make my wish come true too. And apparently, you know the realest one.”
“I do, but you have to believe. That’s where the magic comes from.” I tip my chin in challenge. Rhys can tease all he wants, but he’s not going to shake my commitment to believing in the concept of Santa.
“La-La, I reckon if I can believe a girl like you is keen on me, I can believe in Santa Claus.” The way his mouth curves into a soft smile takes my breath away. “But I’ve got questions about his labor practices. I’m not sure those elves are being treated fairly…”
I stop whatever he’s about to say next with a kiss, and we forget about crossing anything off my list today.