Epilogue
One year later
Raine woke up to the sun shining inside the sliding glass door windows that led to the balcony.
Getting up, she pulled on a light robe and walked over to the door, sliding it open and stepping outside to take a deep breath of the fresh, clean air.
It was already warm but she knew it would get into the nineties as the sun made its way higher in the sky.
When she’d first come here almost two years earlier, she’d hated it—the stark landscape, the strangely shaped Joshua Trees, the rocks and dirt and unforgiving feel of it all.
Now, though, she had grown to love it, especially because it reminded her of both herself and Quentin.
She’d grown here, found her true voice and figured out how to be who she wanted to be in this world.
And then both she and Quentin, how they’d been closed off, hiding their real selves from the world and each other…
but, out here, together, it felt almost impossible.
Heading back in the room, she closed the door.
Then she took a shower and got dressed. Leaving the bedroom, she planned to head to the kitchen for a cup of coffee, knowing Quentin would have already made a pot—but the lights were on in the studio, so she walked in there.
Quentin was at the computer in the control room, so she approached, knocking softly on the open door.
“Hey,” he said, turning.
“Hey, baby,” Raine said, crossing the space and giving him a kiss. “What’s up?”
“Just getting ready for Sam Munroe.”
“He’s coming today, right?”
“Yeah.”
Raine pulled up a chair. “Tell me about him.”
“Not much to tell. Crushed Velvet heard his demo and wanted him to take it up a notch—but they know they’ve got a hit on their hands.”
“What do you need me to do today?”
“Let’s play it by ear—but I’ll definitely need your help.”
Raine smiled, happy to do just that. After the tour had ended at the end of last summer, she’d moved from L.A.
into Quentin’s place—and he’d invited her to share his vision in his studio.
And she was so proud of him. After everything that had happened, it seemed like maybe the world was ready to forgive him for his past transgressions and move on.
Since then, they’d worked with several new artists together, including Sam Munroe, a twenty-something musician working on his debut album, who would be arriving that afternoon.
They mentored them, helping them find the truth in themselves to share with the world.
And, while Raine had no intention of hanging up her own performer hat, this aspect of her life fulfilled her in ways she never would have imagined.
And she also discovered that working with other artists inspired her own work.
When Raine got up, Quentin did as well, pulling her into another kiss.
Then, before he let her go, he playfully squeezed her ass.
Laughing, she said, “I need to go get a cup of coffee—you’re clearly more awake than I am.
” But, before she left, she gave him another quick kiss and squeezed his butt in good-humored retaliation.
Later that day when Sam arrived, both she and Quentin gave him the short and quick tour of the house, offering him the same bedroom downstairs where she’d stayed when recording her third album with Quentin.
This kid didn’t have an attitude like Raine had—in fact, he was the exact opposite: shy, quiet, unassuming.
Both she and Quentin would want to give him a few tips for how to survive the industry.
Quentin took him to the studio while Raine tossed a salad in the kitchen and assembled a sandwich tray.
The plan was that they would eat lunch and then start working right after.
When she headed back to the studio to announce that lunch was ready, she paused just outside, overhearing a snippet of their conversation.
“Your lyrics—they hit pretty hard,” Quentin said.
“Is that good or bad?”
“That’s good, man. It’s tough to put things like this into words. You’re hitting the right mark.”
“So what do I need to improve on?”
“Believe it or not? Holding back once in a while. It’ll make those punches punchier.”
“I don’t know how to do that.”
“Don’t worry. That’s why you’re here,” Quentin said. “We’ll help you figure that out.”
Raine’s lips were spread in a wide smile that she couldn’t hide as she walked into the studio. Quentin was so good at drawing out of artists exactly what was needed—and he seemed to have a sixth sense about how to do it. She was learning from him but he was a natural. “Lunch is ready if you are.”
“Oh, I’m starving,” said Sam.
“Great. It’s kind of a light meal, but you can eat as much as you want.”
Quentin grinned. “Let’s head back to the kitchen.”
While Sam assembled a sandwich, Raine and Quentin held back near the doorway. Raine leaned close to Quentin. “Not going over rules anymore, are you?”
“Nope. At least, not now. Not all artists have a problem with authority.”
Pursing her lips together, Raine’s eyes gave away her amusement. “No…but some have a problem with honesty.”
“Nothing that a good producer can’t help with.” Quentin’s arm around her waist felt secure and steady. “Actually, it takes two—two imperfect people who figured it out and can give a little guidance.”
“Yeah. Together.” Raine leaned against him. They would never be perfect…but they could always be real. And that was all she had ever wanted from this man who had been showing up ever since he’d promised.
THE END
Thank you so much for reading Quentin and Raine’s story.