Chapter 11 #2
I inhale a fortifying breath and clear my throat.
“Ok. So, let’s start with how to hold the guitar.
” I position myself with the proper posture, feet flat on the floor and back straight, which is the complete opposite of how I usually play, but it’s how I learned, so we’re going to do things the right way.
When I write my songs, I sit crisscross with my back hunched.
I don’t recommend it to beginners—or anyone, really.
“Ok, so… feet flat, back straight, then put the guitar across your lap and hold it in place with your arm while the other hand grips the neck between your thumb and forefinger like this.” I show him what I mean, and he instantly mirrors my position.
“You got it. You’re a natural. Now we’re going to work on strumming. Do you know what that means?”
“Like this?”
He haphazardly rakes his fingers down the chords and back up, like most kids do when they first get their hands on a guitar. The sound it elicits isn’t the worst thing I’ve ever heard, but it leaves a lot to be desired.
“Kind of. We’re going to use a pick for this part.”
“What’s a pick?”
I reach into my pocket and produce a small triangle of pink glittery plastic with rounded corners, placing it in his hand. It has my monogram signature on it, naturally.
He turns it in his palm, inspecting it closely.
I pull out another one for myself. “So, you’re going to hold it like this.” I pinch the plastic between my thumb and the side of my forefinger, keeping my other fingers tucked out of the way so he can get a clear view.
He struggles to position it in his small hand, growing more agitated with each attempt.
“It’s ok. It’s hard at first. Let me show you.”
I help him get it where it needs to be and hold his hand as I slide it down the chords and back up again, repeating the motion several times.
He beams up at me. “That’s so cool!”
“That’s the easy part. Now you have to learn how to place your other fingers on the chords. Are you up for it?”
“Yes!”
We both get so lost in the lesson, and I completely lose track of the world around us. I almost miss Aiden’s bedtime until I realize his enthusiasm is starting to wane. When I check my phone, it’s well past nine o’clock and I have several text messages from Liam waiting for me.
Liam: Cheese Whiz is at it again.
Liam: Did Aiden have a good day at school?
Liam: No Froot Loops for dinner.
Liam: My credit card is in the top drawer on the island if you want to order in.
Liam: Wait. You’re a millionaire. Pay for your own food.
Ruby: Chivalry is dead, I see.
Ruby: And it’s billionaire. You know…with a b.
Before I can respond to the rest of the messages, my phone rings. “Could it be? Is it the cat rescuer himself?”
“Very funny, Goldie. I had some time, so I figured it would be easier to call. How was your day?”
“We had cereal for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Then I took Aiden out for some shots after school to celebrate being the line leader today. We came home, snorted a line of Froot Loops directly off the countertop, and buried Jerry in the back yard near the campsite.”
“Just another Friday, then?”
“Yep.”
Aiden giggles beside me. “What’s a line?”
I bark out a laugh, and my shoulders shake from the force of it.
“Great. Now you get to explain that to my kid,” Liam says.
I put my phone on speaker and turn my attention to Aiden. “It’s a grown-up thing. You’ll understand when you’re much older, but don’t do lines. It’s bad for you.”
“That’s not—you know what? Never mind. Why is my kid still awake?”
Aiden leans toward the phone and practically yells into the receiver. “Dad! Ruby’s teaching me to play guitar! It’s so fun!”
“That’s awesome, bud. Did you have a good day at school?”
“It was the best! I got to be the line leader, and we made slime in science!”
An alarm goes off on the other end of the line, and my heart leaps into my throat.
Over the frantic noises, Liam says, “I have to go. I’ll see you in the morning, ok?”
“Ok. Night, Dad.”
“‘Night, buddy. Sleep tight. Put Ruby back on for a second.”
I switch off the speaker and hold the phone to my ear. “Fire?” I ask.
“Yeah.”
“Be safe,” I say, my voice slightly wobbly.
“Always. I’ll see you in the morning. Goodnight, Goldie.”
“‘Night, Grumpy.”
With my stomach in knots, I gather up my things and put them back where they belong.
“Ok. Time for bed.”
He groans out a protest, but his tired eyes betray him.
“Tomorrow is another day. We can have another lesson after breakfast, and you can show your dad how much you’ve learned. Sound good?”
“Ok.”
Aiden’s bedtime routine passes in a blur, and once he’s safely tucked into bed, I go to the kitchen and pour myself a glass of wine.
Standing in the quiet house with only the single light above the stove, I swirl the pink liquid and take a sip, attempting to ease the worry.
“He does this for a living. He’s going to be fine,” I murmur into the glass.
It does nothing to settle my nerves, so I tip it up and down it in one long gulp before pouring another.
With the bottle in one hand and a glass in another, I slink into Liam’s bedroom and make a beeline for his closet. Setting down my coping mechanisms on his dresser, I rifle through his clothes until I get to a line of hoodies.
Like a weirdo, I sniff the sleeve of a black one and remove it from the hanger, tossing it over my head without a second thought. It’s slightly oversized and reaches halfway down my thighs, but it’s warm and smells like Liam.
I turn to leave the closet, stopping dead in my tracks when I see myself in the mirror on the back of the door. “Holy shit.”
It’s not just any hoodie. It’s my tour merch, and this one was exclusive to my Nashville show. The last stop on my tour. The one where I played our song for the first time to an entire arena of fans—and Liam, it seems.
Why didn’t he say anything? I would’ve invited him backstage if I’d known he was there.
Maybe he was on a date. Fuck.
Perched on the edge of Liam’s well-made bed, I down another glass of wine. I glance around the room, taking in the sparse details compared to the one I’m currently living in. Not for the first time, I wonder if he put me in the main bedroom and relegated himself to the guest room.
There’s no en-suite bathroom down here, and nothing about this room tells me someone has been living here for years. On the nightstand, there’s one framed photo of a younger Aiden with his dinosaur plushie and his favorite threadbare blanket. The rest of the room is pretty generic.
I breathe in deeply, inhaling the scent of Liam’s cologne, and it eases some of the tension. Or maybe it’s the wine. A buzz works its way through my fingers and toes until I feel like I’m floating, and I let the sensation drown out the worry.
I lie back against Liam’s pillows and tug the soft throw blanket over my toes in case the monsters try to get me. It’s not long before I’m drifting off to sleep surrounded by his lingering presence.
Liam
The house is quiet when I step through the front door. Ruby is usually waiting to greet me in the mornings, but she’s nowhere to be found. There’s no music drifting from upstairs, and the usual scent of fresh coffee that greets me in the morning is absent. She must be asleep.
The whole shift, all I could think about was how much I fucking missed her. Having Ruby around has infused our home with a warmth I didn’t know was missing until she showed up. Our relationship is slowly morphing into something I’m not ready to name, and I know she feels it, too.
I drop my stuff in the entry and kick off my shoes, heading to Aiden’s room. Peeking inside, I see that he’s still sleeping soundly, which doesn't surprise me considering he went to bed later than usual.
I shut the door and carry on toward my temporary bedroom, intending to change into some workout clothes before heading to the gym. The door creaks open, and a sliver of sunlight peeks through the curtains, illuminating the golden hair fanned out over my pillows.
She’s curled up on her side with both hands tucked under her cheek and her knees pulled up to her chest. There’s a throw blanket barely covering her feet, and she’s wearing my hoodie. The entire room smells like a perfect blend of us.
There’s a bottle of wine on the nightstand next to an empty glass, telling me all I need to know about what transpired here. I tuck the throw blanket around her body, letting my eyes linger on her serene face for a moment longer than necessary.
I want to memorize every detail of this woman. Keep it tucked away for when she’s no longer here with me. Catalogue it all and hold the memories close to my heart.
As I turn to leave, Ruby’s hand grasps my wrist. “Stay.”
When I look back, her sleepy eyes are pleading with me, and I can't bring myself to say no. It’s clear whatever drove her to drink last night is still weighing on her.
I slip into bed beside her, my feet crossed at the ankles with one hand behind my head and the other outstretched. “Come here, Goldie,” I whisper.
Without hesitation, she slides to the middle of the bed and drapes herself over me, her hand resting over my heart and her head tucked beneath my chin. The scent of her shampoo invades my senses.
Before I can stop myself, I place a soft kiss against her hair. “Wanna talk about it?”
Bypassing my question, she asks, “Why didn’t you tell me you were at my show?”
I almost slip up and ask which one, but I remember the hoodie. “I didn’t want to take time away from your fans on your last tour stop.”
The lie slips effortlessly off my tongue.
The truth is, I’m content to stand in the shadows without her ever knowing I’m around, silently cheering her on in everything she does.
If I told her I was there, she would’ve invited me backstage, given me VIP tickets, the whole nine.
I don’t want that. I want to be a spectator; I want to see her through everyone else’s eyes because through mine, she’s already more than they could ever dream she’d be.
“I think it’s your turn to answer my question,” I say. “What made you get wine drunk all alone and crawl into my bed?”
She sighs, and her fist clenches in my shirt. “I was worried about you. When you called and the sirens went off, I panicked.”
I sweep her hair away from her face, letting my fingertips coast along her jaw. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think. That’s always a possibility in, but I never intended to scare you like that.”
“It’s ok. I imagine it’s ten times worse for the partners of everyone else at the station. I’m just the temporary nanny.”
“You’re not just anything, Goldie. You’re…” Fuck. Is there even a word for what she is to me? “You’re family. You have been for a very long time.”
“Connor and I broke up years ago.”
“Not because of Connor. Family isn’t based on blood or romantic ties. Family is the people you choose—the people who mean the most to you in the world. That’s you, Ruby. It always has been, and it always will be.”
She looks up at me through glassy eyes, her chin quivering.
“You still a little drunk?” I ask.
“Shut up. That was really sweet, and you’re ruining the moment.”
I glide my thumb gently over her cheek to capture a fallen tear. “I meant every word,” I murmur.
“So… the fire. Was it bad?”
“No, b—” I was so close to calling her baby again, but I stopped myself. I’ve said it before, in the heat of the moment, but this is different. It feels far too intimate considering our current position.
I hold her tighter, hoping to ease some of her worries. I don’t often get to see this softer, more vulnerable side of Ruby, and I’ll hold onto it for as long as she’ll let me. “Brush fire. It was out within minutes, and we stopped it from spreading.”
“That’s good. Can I ask you something personal?”
“Anything.”
“If something happens… to you. Who’ll take care of Aiden?”
A pang of sadness hits me. Her question brings up so many haunting memories of me and Connor going from one home to another after we lost our parents. I’d like to think I could rely on Connor to take care of my son, but I don’t want him to feel like he owes me something.
I take a deep breath and blow it out. “Because of the nature of my job, I’m prepared for every outcome. If something happens, my will gives custody to Ivy and Luca.”
She nods against my chest. “That makes sense. Thanks for telling me.” A yawn slips free.
When I glance down, I see that her eyes have fallen shut.
I gently press my lips to her forehead. “Rest, Goldie. I’ve got you.”
And you’ve got me. My heart never stood a chance.