Page 82 of Songs for Libby

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

It took a while for me to regain my sense of equilibrium. I didn’t want to treat Sean any differently, but in trying not to, I did. So I stumbled through the next week, embarrassed half of the time, frustrated other times. Frustrated with myself, not him. I was suddenly self-conscious. Each time he looked at me, I wondered if it meant something more.

Sean, for his part, really did treat me the same. He’d had more practice than I had—years of practice—so it shouldn’t have been surprising. He acted the same, but the things I saw in him were different. I assigned different motivations to his actions than I had before, and that made it more difficult to respond the way I had before. I hadn’t wanted things to change, but there was no going back after a revelation like that.

I did my best though, comforted by the fact that Sean seemed to understand completely that I couldn’t go there with him. Eventually I found my footing, using Sean’s steady presence to anchor me.

He continued to walk in my back door almost every morning. Sometimes he’d bring me a smoothie. Sometimes he’d make me food. Mostly he was just there. My living room was his writing space, where he would pick out melodies on his guitar and scribble notes on a notepad. Half the time he stayed at my house even when I was at work. I think he was more comfortable there—in the home I had made—than in his own temporary housing.

We were sitting on my back porch, drinking iced tea as the sun went down.

“I have to admit,” Sean said as he took a loud sip. “I feel very southern right now.”

I smiled, thinking of just how different his everyday life must be, living here by me. “Do you miss it?” I asked. “Your other house? Do you miss the space and everything?”

“No.”

“Really? You don’t miss the cleaning service or the cook?”

“I get to cook with you most nights. What’s to miss?”

I gave him a look.

He shrugged. “I don’t know what to tell you, Libby. This life that I’m trying to live here, beside you, is so different from the life I live anywhere else.”

“And that’s… a good thing?” It wasn’t that I couldn’t understand it. I was of the opinion that this life was way better for him than the life he’d been living, but it surprised me that he recognized that. I still expected him to crave the busyness, the screaming fans, the fancy hotels.

His lips curled in amusement. “Yeah.”

“So you’re not using my living room as an office because you don’t have room in your own place?”

He gave me an are-you-crazy face. “What? No. Is that what you think? That I’m using you for your space?”

“No, I just can’t imagine that my griping and moaning is all that conducive to your creative process.”

“Do I need to get out of your hair more?” He wasn’t teasing. He looked uncertain, really wanting to know.

“No. Having you there…” How could I phrase this? “The company is good for me, but I don’t want you to feel like you have to be there.”

He was quiet, looking out at the sun setting behind our privacy wall. After several long moments he looked down at his glass of iced tea. “I like being here. It feels like a home. My place in Newburgh never felt like anything more than a house.” He glanced over at me, his smile relaxed, open, honest. “And I like being around you, knowing that you’re okay. Knowing when you’re not okay,” he conceded with a nod.

His words took me by surprise, making my throat feel tight. “Yeah,” I managed to say. “Yeah, me too.”

We lapsed into silence and watched the sun set.

♪♫♪

I had my coffee thermos and my purse in hand, ready to rush out the door when Sean let himself in the back door.

“Sorry, I have to get to work early today.”

He closed the back door and quickly jogged ahead of me so that he could open the front door for me. He stepped aside and held the door as I tried not to let my hurried step turn into a waddle.

“I’ll see you this evening.” I paused as I passed him, lifting up on my toes to peck him on the mouth.

It was his stunned expression that made me realize what I had just done.

I’d just kissed him, as if I’d done it a thousand times before. But it wasn’t normal; it was anything but normal.