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When I’m warmed up, I reach for my notebook of music paper and a pencil and dig in, running lines over and over.
I know you want me to let you in
But hearts are messy
I frown. That doesn’t sound good.
I know you want me to let you in
But this door on my heart is locked
Better. I write it down and then play the melody again. It’s soft, a gentle ballad that will likely be played at weddings someday.
Before I know it, several hours have passed, and I think I have the song mostly worked out. The doorbell rings, pulling me out of my haze of creativity. I pad to the door and open it, surprised to see Joy and Lia smiling at me.
“We brought lunch,” Joy announces, holding up a brown bag.
“And margaritas,” Lia adds, making me grin. “We thought maybe you could use some friendly company.”
Joy’s head tilts to the side. “But if we’re interrupting something—”
“No, come in.” I move back so they can come inside, then shut the door behind them. “I’m sorry I’m still in my pajamas. I started writing as soon as I woke up and I haven’t taken a break.”
“Have you eaten?” Lia asks.
“Nope.”
“Excellent,” Joy says with a grin. “Because we have some delicious Mexican food in here, along with the margaritas.”
“It’s noon.” I frown at the time.
“They’re virgin ones,” Lia says with a shrug. “Joy’s preggers, so no drinking liquor in front of her. Also, it’s Monday. And who couldn’t use a margarita on a Monday?”
“I could,” Joy says, raising her hand. “Virgin or otherwise, they’re delish. What kind of song are you working on?”
“A ballad.” I’m salivating at the sight of the chips and salsa Joy’s currently setting on my table. Food is a great idea. “Do you want to hear it?”
“Yes,” they answer in unison, both grinning.
“After you eat something,” Joy adds, passing me a taco.
“Good call.” I take the taco and devour it in about four bites. “I was hungrier than I thought.”
“I brought tons of food,” Lia assures me, passing me another taco. I pop a chip into my mouth and shimmy in my seat, happy to have them here.
“When is the baby due?” I ask Joy, eyeing her barely-round belly.
“This winter,” she says while rubbing her hands over her midsection. “So far, the morning sickness is gone. Now, I just want to eat everything in sight. I’ll gain a hundred pounds with this baby.”
“No, you won’t,” Lia says, shaking her head. “You make good food choices. You can eat all the carrots you want.”
“I don’t want carrots. I want Doritos.”
“Maybe eat more carrots than Doritos,” I say with a laugh.
“How are things with Levi?” Joy asks, earning a glare from Lia that says really? “What? It’s just a question.”
“Things are good.” I reach for another taco. “He’s a great guy. Funny. Protective. Sexy as all get out.”
“That’s a Crawford thing,” Joy says, nodding. “Sexy and smart.”
“I just wish he’d use the sexiness a little more,” I confess. “He says we’re taking it slow, and it’s killing me.”
“That’s sort of sweet, though,” Lia says thoughtfully. “That he doesn’t want to just jump into bed with you. Also, you should know, he’s not dating you because of the stardom.”
“We wouldn’t be having this conversation if he was,” I say with a sigh. “Because there have been plenty who have tried. None were successful. In fact, Levi’s the first guy I’ve dated since Rick’s accident.”
Both women grow quiet, chewing thoughtfully. Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything. I trust them, but I don’t know them well. I don’t want to make them uncomfortable.
Why did I even say that?
“I’m so sorry that happened to you,” Lia says at last. “It must have been the most devastating thing.”
“It was,” I agree and nod. “But it was a long time ago, and it’s time to live my life again. It’s not like I’ve had to chase Levi.”
“No, he’s into you.” Joy’s voice is full of confidence. “I tried to antagonize him a bit last week, and he didn’t fall for it. Because he’s a cop, he doesn’t like to say much about stuff, but he admitted that he likes you a lot. It was sweet.”
“He’s sweet,” I murmur, looking down at the half-eaten taco in my hands. “He’s the best.”
“Okay, I’m ready for music,” Lia says, shifting in her seat. “Whenever you’re done eating.”
“Awesome. I’d like to hear what you think of this one so far. It’s a little different for me, but I think it’s pretty.”
I sit at the piano and begin the song I’ve been working on. There are a few rough spots that I have to mumble through because I don’t have all of the lyrics ironed out. When I’m finished, I look up to find both women leaning on the piano, hanging on every note.
