“I like helping creatives earn a living.”
“It can certainly be hard to do these days, what with corporations and piracy.”
“Are we donenow?” I ask. “It sort of feels like we should be.”
“No. You need to trust me. I am, after all, a medical practitioner.”
I laugh. “No, you’re not.”
“Just be in the moment with me, June.” He runs his hand over my back like he’s trying to soothe a wild animal or something. Though his fingers pause and stray along the edge of the back of my bra. Just testing the strap or something.
“What are you doing?” I ask curiously.
“Nothing. Sorry. Got distracted.” His hand moves on to rest against my lower back. “Can I say, you have the most perfect curve right here. It’s right above your ass, which is also kind of great if I’m being honest. How do you achieve such perfection?”
“By eating cake.”
“Huh,” he says. “Have I turned the hug horny and made it awkward? I honestly didn’t mean to.”
“It’s okay.” The truth is, I like it a little too much. “We’re fine.”
“Carrie can be tenacious,” he says out of nowhere. “I don’t think she’s going to give up.”
“Winning you back for herself or for the record company?”
“Both. Normally she gets sick of her toys and discards them. They don’t refuse to play with her.”
I hate this news on numerous levels. Though stuffing any emotions regarding him down deep into the recesses of my soul seems to be working out great for me so far. Best to just focus on this hugging thing. I tighten my hold around his middle and press my cheek against his pec. “Doesn’t seem to be any new information about you on the internet after her visit.”
He tenses. “Okay.”
“Would you rather not talk about it?”
“No,” he says. “I need to know what’s happening.”
“There was some speculation about where you might be. Apparently, you missed an important music industry awards ceremony yesterday.”
“I already have awards and they don’t even feed you at those things.”
“What about snacks?” I ask.
“Nothing.”
“You’re kidding me. What a waste of time.”
He sighs. “Exactly.”
When we’re quiet, I can hear his heart beating strong and steady beneath my ear. And then there’s a new sound comingfrom inside him…he’s humming. Some song that’s sweet and familiar and old. I haven’t heard him sing, whistle, or hum in the time he’s been here. Which is strange, given his apparent love of music. Guess it’s another sign of the burnout. I could happily stand there listening for days.
“Is that ‘Crazy’ by Patsy Cline?” I ask softly. “I love that song.”
He grunts and steps back from me. “We’re done.”
“Oh.”
I have no idea what the look he gives me means. But then he turns his attention back to the piles of laundry on the ground. “I can do this. Audrey’s going to teach me to mop next. I’ve decided to see it as an adventure.”
“What a positive way to approach it.”
