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He made it through the song, and the crowd went wild. It was evident by how long the applause lasted that “Luca” was their most popular song. He’d always said that, but now I truly got it. He’d often told me that they ended the shows on that one. But it seemed it wasn’t the last song tonight.
Griffin returned to the microphone amid the cheers of the crowd and the chanting of “Cole.”
His voice echoed through the arena. “I was wondering if you’d be okay with one more song tonight . . .”
The crowd responded by erupting into an even louder series of applause and screaming.
“This one is new . . . never before recorded . . . and possibly never to be sung again. It’s called ‘You’re in Me,’ and it’s dedicated to my one true love. You know who you are.”
My eyes watered.
The crowd went wild.
I struggled to listen to the words as he started to sing.The day you walked away,
You never really left.
You may not know it.
But you’re still here.You say you’re scared . . .
But I’m scared, too,
To live in this world without you.You can leave, but you’ll always be here.
In my heart and soul . . . everywhere.
You’re in me.
Till the end,
It will always be you, my friend.They tell me to move on.
But if I do,
When I look at her, I’ll only see you.
You’re in me.
Till the end,
It will always be you, my friend.Even though you’ve left scars . . .
You’re still my sun, moon, and stars.What?
I didn’t hear anything else once he’d sung those words. My sun, moon, and stars. The rest of the song was a blur as I sat there frozen, so overcome with emotion. I’d never once mentioned the sun, moon, and stars tattoo to Griffin. He couldn’t have known anything, and yet those words were somehow in his heart. I was pretty sure it was because on some level, he lived inside mine. Looking down at my tattoo, I knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that this was Izzy sending me the ultimate message of all.CHAPTER 32
LUCADay five and nothing.
I didn’t know what I’d expected, but each day I went to my mailbox, finding it empty, made me feel a little more hopeless.
Griffin had poured his heart out in song, so I’d decided to do the same thing in my own way, doing what I did best—writing. I’d stayed up the entire night after the LA concert and let my heart bleed onto paper. I told him I’d been scared and thought it was the right thing to do to let him go, but that I’d finally realized I was more afraid of losing him than any single fear I could possibly have. I feared being trapped in a physical place, but that was nothing compared to living life with my heart trapped.
Starting around page fourteen of my rambling letter, I’d also laid out some thoughts on how we might be able to make it work. I’d researched possible places I could live not too far from LA. There were some really nice rural communities within a fifty-mile radius of Los Angeles. I hated to leave Doc, but he’d said we could do video therapy and promised that if I did decide to relocate, that he would visit a few times a year. Last night, he’d even come over with a list of birds recently spotted in the Topanga Canyon area—one of the places I’d mentioned might be a good fit for me out in California. And he and Martha had been chatting about him stopping by again at some point.
But now it was starting to feel like I’d jumped the gun with my planning. I still had Griffin’s travel schedule and confirmed that the letter I’d overnighted to his hotel had been personally delivered to him three days ago. When he didn’t call or text right away, I refused to believe that he was done with me. So I’d convinced myself that the reason it was taking so long to hear from him was because he wanted to write back to me in a letter. Talk about clinging to false hopes. Though now realization had begun to set in that the true reason it was taking so long might actually be because he wasn’t planning on responding at all.
And I couldn’t blame him. All my mental health issues were enough trouble, but then I’d gone and broken things off. How many times could a man be expected to offer his heart just to have the woman he loved stomp on it? At some point, he’d smarten up and move on, and, unfortunately, I might’ve driven him to that point the last time I’d pushed him away.
A feeling of melancholy settled in that evening. I didn’t have the energy to write or pretty much do anything productive at all, so I ordered Chinese takeout and plopped myself on the couch with a set of chopsticks and a cardboard container in my hands. Hortencia was lying on her bed across the room and looked over at my unshowered ass and seemed to shake her head and sigh.
