Grady pinched my side and leaned in to whisper, “You’re not helping.”
“And I’m not gonna,” I said back, kissing his cheek. “It’s just family, baby. If you can’t do it here, how are you going to in front of strangers?”
He bit down on his lip, eyes darting around the backyard before landing on me. “Alright, but only because you asked. Let me go grab my guitar.”
“Already got it,” Dad said, walking outside with the instrument clutched in his hand. I hadn’t even seen him leave, but he must have snuck out while everyone was bickering. He walked over and knelt in front of Grady, the case outstretched for him to take. “Show us how it’s done, son.”
I didn’t miss the slight tremble in his hand as he took the guitar from its case, or the way he sucked down the rest of his sweet tea before nervously strumming the strings. “What do y’all wanna hear?”
Our parents bickered back and forth on song titles until his mom finally shouted out Wonderful Tonight by Eric Clapton. Grady smiled, and I knew it was one of their favorites to play together. I’d listened to them come together on quiet nights spent at their house. She would start it off, staying up until the first chorus had ended, and then he’d take over while she asked Robert to dance. Sometimes I felt like an intruder, but it was love in its purest form—stripped back until the noise of the world had faded into silence and there was nothing between two lovers but the connection they shared.
The moment Grady opened his mouth and began to sing, it was like the world stopped. Would I ever get used to this? No matter how many times I’d heard his voice or watched him play, my skin always broke out in goosebumps, and I felt like I couldn’t breathe. This talent was the kind people prayed for, and he didn’t even realize how gifted he truly was. He shrugged it off like anyone could do, like he wasn’t any better than any other musician with a dream in their heart and a story to tell.
I glanced around the yard, soaking in the expressions of awe and adoration on our parents’ faces. They, maybe more than I, understood how extraordinary he was. My father clapped his on the back, while his mother let her tears fall as mine held herhand. Even Josie and Lennox sat still, listening intently with something like wonder on their young faces.
And just like in his parents’ house, Robert asked Marsha to dance. My parents followed suit, joining the fray as they all slowly danced beneath the moonlight.
It was at that perfect moment in time I knew unequivocally what I wanted, and what I wanted was Grady to be the one to take my virginity. For so long, I was scared to lose this last piece of me I’d held near and dear to my heart. Like it was one last thing that belonged to me and me alone. Mine to keep or use as I saw fit, and I didn’t want to wait any longer.
When Grady finished, he was met with thunderous applause. He kept his head ducked low, trying his best to downplay all the compliments and praise ringing in the air. The faint creep of a blush stained his cheeks, which was ridiculously adorable.
“I think we’re gonna have to give them another song, don’t you, Doug?” Robert asked, downing the rest of his beer. “Show him some old dogs can learn new tricks.”
Dad laughed, wandering over to the stack of CDs next to the stereo. “What’ll it be?”
As Grady slipped the guitar into its case, he turned over his shoulder to give me a smile. God, he looked so beautiful, haloed by the soft yellow glow of the strung-up Christmas lights over our heads. I wasn’t sure what he saw on my face, but he slid his hand onto my knee and squeezed. “You okay?” he asked.
I nodded once, clearing my throat. “Y—Yeah, I’m good.” I glanced around, noticing our parents lost to themselves. “Wanna get out of here?”
There was a moment when I wondered if he would say no, to remind me we had agreed to wait until we were away at college and that this was reckless. My heart was beating out of my chest, and I felt like I couldn’t breathe.
But then his face softened, eyes darting to the door behind us. “I’ll go anywhere with you, bluebird.”
grady
. . .
“Mommy!”
“Hi, sweet girl! How are you?” I smiled as Olivia’s voice came through the speakers. Charlie always turned the volume up way too loud, but I never minded. The time away from each other was hard. It always was. No matter if I was on tour and Olivia stayed home, or if she was across the country in meetings for the label.
This was my favorite part of the day, listening to the two of them talk about nothing and everything. Charlie insisted on calling her mom every night. Some chats were longer than others. Last night, Olivia and I listened intently as our daughter gave us a complete account of her day at camp. Then she asked her mom to read her not one, but two, bedtime stories before she finally passed out.
I grabbed a beer and made my way out to the front porch, taking a seat in one of the large rocking chairs. It was humid as hell. The scent of rain hung heavy in the air as thunder rolled in the distance.
Dad’s neighborhood was quiet, but lively. There were always couples walking along the sidewalk, or kids playing in the smallpark just down the street. That was what I missed most about living in a small town. Nashville was too busy. Too loud. We’d lived in the middle of the city for so long, I’d almost forgotten what this kind of peace was like.
Olivia’s family lived in a small town a few hours from the city, so we didn’t get out there as much as we liked. It reminded me a lot of Ashwood and had become one of my favorite places. I could easily see myself settling there. Liv and I briefly talked about building a place out on their land, even if it wasn’t going to be our full-time home. With our careers, though, it never made much sense.
Now that I was out? That I was free? Yeah, I wanted to live that quiet life again. I wanted to sit out on the porch and watch the storms roll in over my own stretch of land. I wanted Charlie to be able to run wild and free, just like I had when I was growing up.
And I wanted Cleo at my side for all of it.
It was strange to think about what our lives would’ve been like had we not broken apart. Would we have kids? Cleo had grown up with a large family, and I’d always wanted one. We used to talk about them as if a big family was a done deal. What they looked like. If they’d be quiet and stubborn like her, or loud and a little wild like me. Or maybe they’d be a mishmash of both.
Besides a weak moment here or there when curiosity got the best of me, I hadn’t kept up with Cleo’s life after she got married. It hurt too damn much. I was better off pretending she was happy and thriving. It was a mantra I’d repeated over and over again to try to get it through my head.She’s happier without me.
I’d admit to being surprised she never had kids, though. Not that there was anything wrong with that. I expected to see a whole gaggle of them when I finally caved last summer andlooked her up. Maybe her dreams had changed over the years. Maybe I didn’t know her as well as I thought.
