27. 27 Gigi
27
27 GIGI
EVERLONG
Last night was a fever dream.
It had to be.
Because in what reality did it make sense that I had the time of my life onstage, and then I got to fall asleep next to the most perfect being on the planet?
In this reality, apparently, because there she was, curled up on her side, curtain of dark hair like silk over the white pillowcase. Soft snores brushed past her lips with each exhale.
I smiled to myself.
She’d been exhausted last night. I could see it in the purple smudges under her eyes and the yawns she tried to hide. But she’d insisted on hanging out with the band and me after we finished the set. I’d hopped behind the bar to check in with Dante and the waitresses, popped into the kitchen to make sure the cooks were good. Everyone insisted they were fine and shooed me off. So, the band and I grabbed the corner booth and a round of drinks.
Snuggling deeper into my pillow, I traced the curves of Parker’s face with my eyes. She’d been at my side last night, talking and laughing with the band for over an hour. It was euphoria, the high of performing combined with Parker’s fingers tangled with mine beneath the table.
But then Ryan opened his stupid mouth.
“So, you joining us on the road, or what, Gigi?”
I froze, drink halfway to my lips. All eyes were on me, varying degrees of curiosity and hope aimed my way. Under the table, Parker’s fingers tightened around mine. I stared straight ahead, vision blurring as I tried to calm the feral blend of happy and devastated inside me.
“I, ah,” I started, setting my beer bottle down slowly, carefully. “I’m pretty sure we’ve talked about this already.”
“Right, but after that ?” Ryan gestured toward the stage, eyes wide. “You gotta be dying to change your tune.”
My heart lurched as if reaching for the mic that still stood center stage. As if demanding I listen to it, listen to the glow still warming my insides. It’s been so long, it seemed to say. It’s been so long since we’ve been this close to the sun.
Yeah, well , I thought, logic taking over. You get too close to the sun, you get burned.
I should know.
“Sorry, man,” I said to Ryan, ignoring the heat of Parker’s eyes on my profile. “My tune remains unchanged.”
There’d been half-hearted attempts to change my mind over the next hour or so, but I stayed firm. I had my reasons, I’d said. I was sure they’d find someone in time for their summer tour.
Now, lying in bed next to Parker, regret was sharp inside my chest. I pulled my pillow tight against my body in an attempt to dampen it, but it would not dull. After all, my bones still vibrated with rhythm, my blood still sang the melody. I thought I’d put that part of me to rest a long time ago, but here it was. Resurrected.
I wanted nothing more than to bury it again.
Squeezing the pillow tighter, I pressed my face into it, surprised when it was damp. When had I started to cry?
“Gigi?”
I started. Lifting my head, I found Parker’s sleepy gaze on me, concern creasing her brow.
“Hey,” I said, smiling. “Good morning.”
“Why are you crying?” she asked instead of returning my greeting. “Are you okay?”
“Oh, yeah. Yeah, I’m good.” I sat up and rubbed the heels of my hands into my eyes, scrubbing any trace of those traitorous tears away. “I’m okay.”
She sat up, too, and, even in its conflicted state, my heart skipped a beat as I took her in. Hair mussed, pillow creases on her cheek, sleepy eyes. God, I could lose myself to her forever. Night after night, morning after morning, letting that soft smile, those warm eyes, soothe my ragged nerves, my battered heart.
Her brows dipped as she looked me over. I straightened my spine and wiped any trace of angst from my face. Or, at least, I thought I did. Apparently, I missed a spot, because Parker looked unconvinced.
Tossing the pillow barricade between us aside, she scooted closer, draping her bare leg over mine. Then, she took my hands, which I hadn’t even realized had been twisting the sheet. “Gigi,” she said, and there was so much in the way her voice wrapped around my name, so much that pulled at the tangled mess in my chest, threatening to undo the knots. “Talk to me.”
I couldn’t take the earnestness in her eyes and so I looked down, cataloguing the way our fingers wove together. “I,” I started, unsure of where that sentence was going. I didn’t know how to verbalize it, the mess inside me. I didn’t know how to tell Parker everything without making her see me differently.
Because she would.
If she knew the truth, why I was throwing all I had into Heathcliff’s, why I kept turning Patti Mayonnaise down, she’d see me differently. That warmth in her eyes would cool.
I couldn’t take that.
“I’m,” I tried again, but came up empty.
Across from me, she sighed. The bed shifted as she slid even closer, stretching her other leg out so that I was cradled between them. “Did you know,” she started, her thumb tracing circles on my palm, “that I spent the first ten years of my life believing my mom would send me away if I wasn’t good?”
My eyes flew to hers. “What—”
“Yeah, ten whole years.” Her fingers untangled and re-tangled with mine, but she held my gaze. “Anya lived with our aunt, and I always thought it was because she’d done something to make our mom mad. So she…got sent away.”
“Parker,” I started, unsure of what to say. Or why she was telling me this. “That’s…”
“Silly? Ridiculous? Not even close to the truth?” Her lips tilted at the corner. “I know. Now, I know. But then?” She shook her head, her curl falling over her shoulder. “You couldn’t have convinced me otherwise. So I spent every day being as perfect as I possibly could, doing everything I was asked to do, everything I thought my parents wanted, because I was so scared to mess up.”
“Oh, my god.” I let go of her hands and leaned forward to cradle her face in my palms. “I’m so sorry, baby. That’s no way to grow up.”
She smiled softly, her eyes meeting mine and holding. “No,” she agreed. “It wasn’t. It’s taken years—of therapy and unlearning and talking to my family—to undo the damage. But even now…” She put her hands over mine and dropped them both to her lap. “It’s hard, you know? To remember that the people in my life aren’t going to exile me the moment I mess up.”
My heart cracked right down the middle. Parker, my sweet Parker, living every day afraid of being human, of making mistakes. I slid closer, unfolding my legs and resting them atop hers, so that we were face-to-face. “I have no intention of exiling you,” I said, the fierceness in my voice catching even me off guard. “No matter how messy you get.”
She smiled, blue eyes bright. “Thank you,” she said, leaning in to kiss the tip of my nose.
I pressed my lips to hers, soft and light, and rested my forehead against hers. Running my hand over her head, I toyed with her hair, breathing her in, assuring her with my body, my touch, that I was right here. And I wanted her right here.
After a moment, her shaky breath broke the silence. I straightened, looking her over.
“The reason I’m telling you this,” she said, lashes damp from the tears she’d let free, but her voice firm. “Is because I’m hoping you’ll open up to me, too.”
“What…” I tore my gaze from hers, pulse pounding harder in my veins. “What do you mean?”
She didn’t reply, not until I looked up again. With the softness of kittens’ whiskers, she said, “Tell me why you keep turning down the band.”
My next breath froze in my throat. No, I thought. I can’t. But her eyes held steady on mine, like a safe harbor from the raging sea inside of me, and I…well, I wanted to seek shelter. Slowly, I forced myself to inhale, feeding my lungs the air they were begging for, and then I let the breath out, words tumbling from my lips, too.
“I missed my dad’s funeral.”
Okay, I thought, yanking my gaze from hers. That wasn’t where I thought I’d start.
She didn’t speak, just squeezed my hands between hers. It was what I needed to keep going. “He didn’t want me to take the job with the cruise line. When I told him about it, we fought. What about college, he said. You need to think, Georgia. But I was eighteen and I knew everything. So, instead of trying to make him understand, instead of talking it through…I left.” I shook my head, the memory sharp as knives. “I told him I wasn’t like him, wasn’t like Vaughn. I told him I wanted more from my life than some stupid bar . And I left.”
My eyes burned. I squeezed them shut, heart beating a ragged rhythm in my chest. “That…that was the last thing I said to him.”
Parker released my hands and slid across the bed, nestling in right next to me. She put her arm over my shoulder and leaned her head against mine. I let myself sink into her, taking the comfort she offered like a balm to my wounds.
“When he first got sick,” I started again, “I told myself I’d come home. As soon as the cruise was over, I’d come home. By that point, I’d been gone for a couple years, hadn’t kept in touch like I should have.” I shook my head. “I was a dumb kid. Stubborn. Thought, I’ll show him for not believing in me. My silence was a punishment. I didn’t think…I didn’t think we’d run out of time.”
Tears fell freely now, and I let them. I fixed my gaze on the splash as they hit my bare thighs, watching as they formed rivulets over my skin. Taking a shaky breath, I forced myself to continue. To get it all out. To tell Parker how awful the person she chose actually was. Awful and undeserving of the wonder that was her.
“I was at sea when he died. There’d been a storm, knocked out our internet service. I didn’t…I didn’t know until after the funeral. I didn’t know my dad was dead for an entire week.”
Saying the words aloud broke the dam inside me. The heaviness in my chest released on a sob. Parker’s arms tightened around me. She pressed my face against the crook of her neck and made soothing sounds as she ran her hand over my hair. I clung to her as the waves crashed into me, relentlessly, over and over. Until my body trembled, until my throat ached. And still, she held me.
Finally—finally—the sobs eased. Parker’s fingers settled at the base of my skull, rubbing soft circles over my skin. I focused my attention there, synching my breath to her touch, until I felt on solid land again. Then, I pulled back.
I didn’t know what I’d see on her face. I feared it. Would there be judgment? Disgust? Regret for getting involved with the kind of person who would treat their own family like I had?
But, instead of cool blue eyes and a somber face, I was met with the warmest sight. Her eyes were the blue of the sky on the first sunny morning after days of storms. I let the warmth permeate my icy insides.
“You were a kid, Gigi.” She wiped the tears from my cheeks. “We’re all stupid and selfish when we’re young.”
I nodded. It was true, and she wasn’t the first person to say it. I’d had a million conversations with my brother since coming home, and he echoed this exact sentiment. He was truly too good for this world. I didn’t deserve him—not his love or his forgiveness.
But he gave it anyway.
Which was why…
“I can’t join the band because of Vaughn.”
Parker frowned. “What do you mean? I’m sure he’d—”
“I left him alone. For years, he was alone. He took care of Dad when he was sick, he planned the funeral, he kept Heathcliff’s afloat. Alone. Because I was too ashamed, too selfish to come home. To face him, and this place. To admit how badly I’d fucked up.” I shook my head, resolute in at least this. “He deserves to live for himself now. He deserves to be happy.”
“Gigi—”
“Joining the band would mean I couldn’t be there, at the bar, to run it. To keep it alive while he does what makes him happy. He’s always wanted to teach, you know. He’s such a nerd.” I smiled, despite myself. “I want that for him. I want him to get his degree and find a job that isn’t slinging beers. I want him to have the freedom to join Anya on the road, and see places and things outside of this city. I want—”
“And that’s admirable.” Parker took my face in her hands and lifted it so she could look in my eyes. “It truly is. But what about your happiness?”
“That’s not—”
“I guarantee you that however you plan to end that sentence is not true.” Her tone was steely, stern, something I’d never heard from her, and it killed any other words I planned to say.
I pressed my lips together, eyes wide on her face. She traced the tender skin beneath my eyes with her thumbs, wiping away any traces of tears. “I’ve gotten to know your brother pretty well, and I feel confident in saying he would not want you to sacrifice your own happiness for his. In fact, I think he’d be pretty pissed about it.”
Despite the ache reverberating through my whole body, I smiled. Parker’s hands slid to my shoulders. I sighed, letting her touch do what she intended, letting myself be soothed.
“I saw you up there, on that stage,” she continued, her voice softer now. “You were brilliant. You were happy .”
“I—” I started, but cut myself off. I couldn’t dispute her. She was right. I was on top of the goddamn world last night. But that didn’t mean—
“When does the band need an answer? Like, a for sure answer?”
I looked her over, widow’s peak to delicate chin, then found her eyes again. Where did you come from? I thought. What did I do to deserve you?
“I, um, don’t actually know,” I admitted, dropping my gaze to my lap, where I’d started fidgeting again.
“Okay. Here’s what we’re gonna do.” She leaned across me, a waft of strawberry hitting my senses, and grabbed her phone from the nightstand. “We’re gonna text Halle, and we’re gonna tell her you’re thinking about it. We’re gonna get a deadline.”
“Parker…”
Whatever I was going to say died when she shot me a look that dared me to argue. My words died, but my libido leapt to life. Bossy Parker was hot .
As she typed out her text, I got to my knees and crossed the space between us, straddling her. Her lips quirked, but she kept typing. Leaning in, I brushed her hair away from her neck with my nose, letting my breath brush her ear. She shivered. I smiled and nipped her earlobe, earning another shiver, followed by a soft whimper. Still, she typed.
“How long,” I whispered into her ear, “is that damn text?”
“Almost done,” she said, voice shaky. I sank my teeth into the base of her neck, and she moaned. “There.” She tossed her phone aside and turned her face to mine.
I let her push me onto my back, opening my mouth beneath hers. As she kissed me, as her hands roved over me, there was an oath in her touch: I see you, it said. I see you and I still want you.
I gave myself over to the crashing waves. The fears and the wants and the hopes and wishes. I let her steer the ship, and I knew she’d get me to solid ground.