31. Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-One
Axel
E d eyed me. “Okay, why the goofy grin? I know you got laid—”
I smacked his chest.
“Oof. Hey, that was uncalled for.”
I glanced over at Pauletta and Thornton who sat at the dining room table, poring over some kind of administrative something or other. Something to do with Rocktoberfest. Something I should’ve been more interested in. Instead, I kept imagining the two photos of Renee and the babies. I didn’t know kids, but they looked so tiny. Like, scary tiny.
Hugo assured me they were of a good weight and expected to survive.
Expected to survive .
That still unnerved me. I didn’t know how someone would live with the fact their newborn baby might or might not survive. All that being said, humans had a finite life. Since none of us knew which day we were going to die, we just needed to make the most of each day.
You’re getting sappy .
Yeah, I was. Because I wasn’t certain if I’d see Hugo again. If he’d want a repeat.
This doesn’t mean anything .
I rubbed my hands against my closed eyes. Why? Why the fuck had I said that? Because, if Hugo’d said that to me—no matter what came next—I’d assume our fucking was a onetime thing.
Making love.
He’d said that. Then he’d started to say he loved me. Or he loved something about me. Or he loved rainy days. I had no fucking clue what was supposed to come after that.
And I’d almost told him that I’d never truly gotten over my crush. But that now, all these years later, something more powerful had taken its place.
Ed glanced down at his laptop, sitting on the coffee table.
Mine was in my room. Attached to the charger because, of course, I’d forgotten to charge it. In the last four days, since I’d been abandoned in Hugo’s house, I’d been oblivious to everything. Given my normal state of chaos, this was even worse.
He didn’t abandon you. His best friend had to deliver premature twins. This isn’t about you .
Okay. Fair. But he had yet to call.
And have you called him?
Fair question. I’d sent the flowers and teddy bears, though. That had to count for something…right? A way for me to show I didn’t want things to be over with just one fuck.
I’d lain in those cum-covered sheets that smelled like him for hours—waiting in vain. Hoping he might come home and be happy to see me. Eventually I’d realized that wasn’t going to happen. I’d put my clothes in the dryer and then, in an act of consideration, I put the dirty sheets in the washing machine. I didn’t generally do laundry these days—but I remembered how.
Naturally, I had to wait until the sheets were out of the dryer.
Still, Hugo hadn’t come home. He hadn’t texted.
I’d called the hospital and sort of bullshitted my way into finding out about the babies. Either I was super charming or the person I’d spoken to wasn’t big on privacy. I wanted to believe the former was true—that people just couldn’t resist my sunshine ways.
I snickered.
Ed arched an eyebrow.
I shrugged.
He pointed to his laptop. “New song.”
I rolled my eyes.
“What new song?” Pauletta’s voice rang clear.
Ed and I twisted to find her standing directly behind us as we sat on the couch.
“Let me check.” Ed squinted.
“Honey bunch, my BFF needs his glasses.” I said the words in a sing-songy voice guaran-fucking-teed to piss Ed off.
He glared.
Pauletta snorted.
Thornton appeared moments later with the reading glasses Ed swore he didn’t need. Yet, somehow could always see better when he wore them.
Ed cast me one more caustic look before turning back to his laptop. “Axel’s paramour sent a song.” He moved closer to the laptop. “There’s a message.” He turned to me. “Do you want me to forward this to your phone?” His gaze flickered between Thornton and Pauletta.
For a hot second, I considered taking him up on his offer. In the end, though, I waved for him to just read it. Unless he either professed his love or said he wanted to fuck me again, I didn’t figure it couldn’t be read in mixed company. Plus, he had my phone number. He could’ve texted. He’d known, when he sent this, that Ed would see.
My best friend cleared his throat. “Dear Axel—”
I snorted.
He glared. Then continued. “I wanted to find you at Rocktoberfest last year for two reasons. The first was to ask you and Ed to consider doing a concert for the school’s anniversary. That was what you overheard that morning. Me telling my principal I wouldn’t abuse my friendship with you to ask that of you and Ed. He didn’t take it well, and we exchanged words. I said some inappropriate things, and he was a jackass. Not my best moment. For that, I apologize.”
Ed glanced at me—as if trying to gauge my reaction.
I rolled my hand. “He said two things…”
“Yeah.” He again cleared his throat. “I also wanted to find you so I could ask your permission to record a song you wrote eleven years ago.” Ed glanced at me.
I couldn’t read his expression.
He continued. “The singer’s name is Marley, and she’s from your neighborhood.” Ed hesitated. “I know you didn’t give your permission. So this is wrong of me. But I wanted you to hear what my students are capable of—with the right music.”
I sat in silence, seething at Hugo for putting me in this position. “So much for burning them—”
“What?” Pauletta asked the question sharply.
“I said so much…never mind.” I waved for Ed to continue.
“He just says he hopes you’re not mad and…” Ed scrolled. “Maybe a bit of personal stuff you won’t want me to share—”
“Oh, I can I see?” Thornton moved to the couch and tried to push Ed toward me so he could plant his ass.
“Just play the song.” I reached around Ed’s back to tweak Thornton’s ear.
Hard.
He yelped.
I didn’t really mind. He was family.
Pauletta laughed at his exclamation.
Suddenly, a full orchestration began.
What the…?
After the introduction—which was no more than fifteen seconds—a girl’s voice came through Ed’s not-so-great computer speaker.
Thornton, Ed, and I all leaned closer.
Pauletta scooted around and knelt by the laptop, trying to get a better listen. “Start it again.”
“Uh, yeah.” Ed mumbled the words even as he fidgeted with the machine.
The orchestration began anew and, as Marley’s voice rang through clearly, my heart seized. I recognized the song. “Can We Be True?” Jesus…he still has this? Another song I’d written for him. Only I barely recognized it. Because between the orchestration and one of the most powerful, pure, and gorgeous voices I’d ever heard, I couldn’t believe this was the same song. Yet it was. For all of my memory fog from trying to forget that time in my life—and failing—the familiarity sank deep into my bones.
With a grand finale and a great crescendo, the song ended.
Slowly, I sat back.
Ed whistled.
Thornton pointed, as if asking him to play it again.
Pauletta stilled his hand when he tried. She met my gaze. “You wrote that?”
“Yeah.”
“You own the copyright for that?”
I shrugged. “I certainly never filed a claim for it. Hell, I thought I’d thrown out all that old shit. He was the one—”
She held up a finger. “That’s not shit, Axel. That’s…fucking brilliant.” She glanced at Ed. “I fucking want her. What’s the girl’s name?”
“Marley.”
“Great.” She bit her lower lip. “I’m going to assume she hasn’t got representation. I want her. I fucking want her.” She met my gaze. “And I want her singing that song. And I want every other fucking song you’ve written. Not just to protect the copyright—you did the work, you deserve the credit—but because I want to see what other hidden gems are tucked away.” She cocked her head. “This the teacher from the video.”
Ed snorted. “Oh yeah. And Axel saw him recently.”
Pauletta held up her finger again. “Do I want to know?”
Simultaneously, Ed and I said, “Probably not.”
He caught my eye.
For the first time in what felt like forever, I smiled. I’d released three new songs since my blowout with Hugo at the launch party. He’d sent me two shmoopy songs as well as this phenomenal song by a protégée who was clearly a diamond in the rough.
His friend Renee’s twins would grow stronger.
I might find the courage to message Hugo.
To proposition him—of course.
And to maybe explain that this doesn’t mean anything really meant this means everything.