Chapter 30
30
Laird
Two weeks later . . .
“Take it from the second chorus. I want to feel the riff, not just hear it.”
I stare at Rod sitting on the other side of the glass, not as amused as he appears. “My fingers are so fucking calloused, and you’ll still manage to make them bleed,” I speak into the microphone.
“That’s the plan,” he jokes.
We’ve all had our moments under the spotlight for solos and parts of the song we want to play up over the weeks we’ve spent in the studio. And although they offered to stay, Rod sent both Nikki and Shane home an hour ago because it’s my turn. Yay me!
Poppy stayed.
I can see her in the back corner behind Rod, legs tucked under her, as she sits on the couch watching me like I’m a superstar. She’s great for my ego. Rod counts me in, and I jam for the next hour.
“I think that’s it,” he finally says. “Good work today, Laird.”
I set my guitar down on the stand and flex my fingers while working my way into the other room. When I come through the door, I shake hands with Rod, then sit next to Poppy on the couch. She sits up, rubbing my back and kissing my cheek. Missing the taste of her, I turn so one lands on my mouth.
That earns me a smile while the song is played.
The notes are big, the bass kicking in before my part takes center stage. “Fuck yes,” Rod says, rocking his head to the music. “Yes, fucking, yes.” Spinning toward me in his chair, he throws out his hand. I catch the high five when he adds, “You did it. Killer song. If you ask me, that’s your first single.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. With Nikki’s vocals on top with those lyrics you wrote—song of the summer. It’s your tour opener, for sure. The crowds are going to flip the fuck out when this kicks in.” He turns back to the soundboard and rolls a few levers before saying, “I’m going to layer this together tonight and have Johnny and the team come listen tomorrow with you guys.”
Sitting on the edge of my seat, I take hold of Poppy’s hand and ask, “So we’re done tonight?”
“You’re done.” He laughs. “Get the fuck out of here so I can work my magic.”
We head out of the studio. Late May is still producing some cool nights, so I wrap my arm around her shoulders as we head for my Ferrari. Her hand holds mine that hangs over, and she turns and kisses it. “How are your fingers? ”
“Guitarists finger faster.”
I memorize the melody of her laughter. “What are we talking about again?” she asks just as we reach the car.
Spinning her around, I press her back to the sleek metal and lean down to kiss her. She sighs, letting her happiness shape her smile. “You were amazing.”
“Just now or in the studio?” I smirk with no shame.
“Both.” She holds my hand up, our palms pressed together as her fingers lengthen against mine. “I take it we’re going to be able to keep the hand?”
“I’ll be good as new tomorrow, but I might soak them in cold water tonight.” Running the back of my hand against her cheek, I ask, “Are you hungry?”
Playfully pushing off the car, she backs away from me and heads for the passenger’s door. “I am, and I’m making you dinner as soon as we get back.”
After unlocking the car, I walk to the driver’s side and slip into the car. “What’s on the menu?”
“Chicken pesto.”
She’s been toying with me over this meal since Deer Lake. I’ve done my best to beg for it several times over. She must feel sorry for me, but I’ll take it. “I can’t fucking wait.”
As soon as we sit at the table, Poppy says, “I’m leaving tomorrow.”
“What?” I ask, wishing I hadn’t just shoved a big bite in my mouth.
“I got a job.”
Fucking hell. It’s tempting to cover my heart after that attack. “Okay. That’s good, right? ”
“It is,” she replies, and I can see a sense of pride brighten her eyes.
I take another bite, but then slow my chewing . . . I swallow it down. “So this is more of a last meal?”
“I’ll be back in a few weeks.”
My fork clanging against the plate resonates even in the open air where we sit. “Um . . .” I need to collect my thoughts and speak carefully before blowing this up into something it’s not. I take a deep breath and drag my hands down my legs. “Okay. Where are you going?”
“A yacht in the Mediterranean.”
“Sounds like more of a date.” Fuck. Should’ve kept my mouth shut.
“I’m not going to justify my work to you, Laird. I’ve picked up small jobs around LA for weeks now, but this paycheck is significant.” I open my mouth, but she says, “Wait, please. I know you have an answer for everything. Honestly, I know you’d be happy with me sitting here supporting you and living off your money. I’m grateful for that generosity, but I can support you while still having my own life and building my business back to pre-accident levels.”
I don’t bother picking my fork up. I’d much rather have this conversation. “I never intended to stifle your career or to make it feel less than mine.”
“That’s just it. I know you didn’t. I took a job that had nothing to do regarding us. It’s only about an opportunity I’ve been given.” She looks out toward the ocean. It’s too dark to see anything beyond a few dots of lights from businesses and homes along the Malibu coast. She stares in that direction anyway.
“Everything I think about is in regard to us.”
“No,” she says, looking at me. “You would be in the studio if I had never shown up at the cabin. You’ll be going on tour whether I’m there or not. Do you see the difference? I don’t even sleep at my apartment anymore. I go to change out my clothes in a suitcase I drag back and forth, then return as fast as I can to be with you.” Leaning forward, she slips her hand under mine that’s resting on my leg. “I love you. I do it because I love you. I took this job because I’m losing myself. Forget the accident.”
“How can I? It’s shaped every part of your life.”
“I’m not sure what you mean. Does it bother you, or is it an observation?” Shaking her head, she sits up, removing her hand from mine and taking hold of the napkin again. “I know it’s hard to understand something you never witnessed. It’s not a fallback for me to make excuses. It’s me realizing that when I find love, I jump at the chance, which is why I’m here. I love you, Laird. More than anything.”
“But your work.” Strike two.
Her chest jolts with a scoff. “You’re pushing me away.” She starts cutting her chicken and then stabs a bite. “Is this what will make it easier for you when I’m gone?” She takes the bite, studying my reaction.
I can’t hold myself in neutral, not even in challenge, and not when it comes to her. “Nothing will be easier when you’re gone.”
Expecting anger, I drop my gaze to the plate in front of me. I’ll take it. Whatever she has to dish. Pun intended, though I don’t think she’d find that humorous at a time like this.
“It will be hard on me too, babe.” I look up to see her expression softened with tears welling in her eyes. “I thought I wanted this job, but it worries me to be away from you now.”
Scooting my chair back, I pat my lap. “Come here, baby.” She comes over and settles in, her arms wrapped around me. “I’m not mad you’re going. I’m bothered that I won’t get to see you, kiss you good morning, or go down on you at night when you can’t fall asleep.”
She rolls her eyes, and her cheeks flood pink, then her bottom lip pops out. “I like that, too. I’ll miss making love as the sun rises and falling back asleep wrapped up in your arms. The showers we take together are my favorite way to get clean and then dirty again. I love how excited you are when I cook dinner for you, and how willing you are to try new dishes I’m working out.”
I kiss the side of her mouth, then hold her by the hip. “I love the way you make me laugh with your chef jokes that aren’t funny in the least, but you know how to land that punchline.”
“Thanks.” She grins proudly without an ounce of arrogance, though she’d have a right to that trait. “I don’t love when you can’t sleep, but I love when I wake up in the middle of the night to the sound of you playing your acoustic.”
“I didn’t know you heard that. I always shut the door and try to keep it down.”
Caressing my cheek, she says, “I never want you to keep it down. I want you to play what your heart tells you.” Leaning in, she rests her forehead against mine and then presses her lips to mine. It’s not the kind of kiss that leads to other things. It’s the kind that bonds our souls in a deeper way. As if that was even possible. I’m so wrapped up in her and make no apologies for it.
We catch our breath, and as we enjoy what feels like a stolen moment under the circumstances, the confessions we got off our chests bring us closer—physically and when I kiss her again, I can know this is real. We are. It might have been fast, but she’s right.
She means everything to me. As I do to her. No doubts exist between us.
Leaning back, I can see how free she feels from the worries she was carrying. She laughs and then asks, “How’s the chicken?”
“Best I ever had.”
The TV is on, but the sound is muted. We’re lying in bed with the door open. The sheets catch a bit of wind every so often, which sends her snuggling to my side. I hold her tighter.
“I was thinking we could stay at your place when you get back.” I don’t ask the obvious question, though I want to know what she thinks.
She props herself up on her elbow. Her eyes are glassy, though I’ve not felt any tears fall on me. I reach up and gently pinch her chin. I ask, “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know what I did in another life to deserve you, but it must be pretty fantastic.” She grins.
“You’re pretty fantastic.”
“As for the offer, thank you. Let’s just play it by ear once I land.” Referencing toward the sliding glass door, she goes on, “I might be missing that view too much to stay away, so how does that sound?”
“I think that view will pale compared to yachting on the Mediterranean.”
Pushing forward, she kisses me and whispers, “Me being here has never been about the view.” She rests her head down on my shoulder, her eyelids growing heavier .
“I know, baby.”
We made the most of our last night together, but I can’t stop the dread filling my stomach or the thoughts haunting me from years ago. Her not showing up had lasting effects that touched every part of my life. The fights we had a few weeks ago were nothing but a blip in the longevity of our lives. So tomorrow I face the real test.
Should I tell her about our past?
I know I can’t, but what if I never get another chance? What if she meets someone else? What if . . . I gulp down the rabid thought trying to destroy me. But the one I fear the most still exists; Do I willingly let her walk out of my life again?
I wake up to the sun shining in and an empty bed.
“Fuck.” I throw the covers off me and rush down the hall.
“Good morning,” Poppy says, looking more gorgeous than ever. Some other fucker is going to have the pleasure of her company for two weeks while I’m stuck with the memory of how lovely she is. Every trip to the store we take is a harsh reminder of how goddamn lucky I am. Not only because of how stunning she is, but how incredible she is as a human, how she treats me like I’m the catch. We both know it’s her.
“I thought you had left.”
“Without a goodbye?” She comes around the counter and wraps her arms around my neck. “Never, my love.” She kisses me like I don’t have morning breath. Returning to the kitchen, she loads her knives into their bag.
“I’m glad. Taking your knives?”
She giggles. “Tools of the trade.”
“Yeah, that was dumb.” I rub my hand over my head, not fully awake yet. I didn’t expect to see her packing her knives to hit me so hard. Feels more official this way. I hate it. I slide onto a barstool. “So this is it, huh?”
“I’ll be back before you have time to miss me.”
“I missed you when you were only twenty feet from me.”
She laughs, zipping the bag closed. “Okay, so wrong choice of wor—”
Knock. Knock. Knock.
We both turn toward the door. She says, “It’s early for visitors.”
“And can only be someone with the code to my property.” I push off the barstool. “Nikki or Tommy, most likely.”
When I open the door, Tommy lets himself in and says, “Morning.” When he sees Poppy, he grins. “How are you this morning?”
“Good. You?”
“We’re about to find out.”
She walks around us, heading for the bedroom. “I’ll leave you two to it. I need to pack a few things in the bedroom.”
He asks, “Going on a trip?”
“A job.”
Glancing at me, he silently questions me. I reply, “She got a job on a yacht in the Mediterranean.”
“Damn, good gig.” She’s already down the hall when he says, “I have the paternity test results.”
Fuck.