Page 41 of Beneath a Tennessee Sky

Like I could leave.

After the session, Jack takes me down Beale Street. The air smells like barbecue and spilled beer, the sidewalks pulsing with music pouring out of every open door.

“Here.” Jack shoves a paper tray into my hands. “Best ribs in Memphis.”

I take a bite and nearly moan. “Oh, my... Wow.”

“Told ya.” He wipes sauce from my chin with his thumb, then licks it off.

We eat perched on a curb, passing a bottle of sweet tea back and forth as street performers set up around us. A blues guitarist starts playing nearby, and Jack’s foot starts tapping automatically.

“You gonna go show him up?” I tease.

Jack watches the old man play, something wistful in his expression. “Nah. He’s earned his spot.”

When the song ends, Jack tosses a twenty into the open guitar case. The musician tips his hat. “Much obliged, son.”

Jack just nods and pulls me to my feet. “Come on. I wanna show you something.”

I notice a couple of people taking pictures of us. It’s a lot to get used to. And it makes me feel like I should have thought about putting together a better outfit. And more makeup. I ignore it and focus on the fact I’m with him. I don’t care what anyone else thinks.

We go back to his penthouse, but that’s not what he wanted to show me. He wraps me up in a flannel that is supposed to look...common, but it’s designer. Then he lead me outside. The terrace stretches around the corner of the building. There are various chairs and couches with patio heaters and a gas firepit.

He turns on one of the patio heaters and we sit down together on one of the outdoor couches. His arm wraps around my shoulders. I nestle into his side, my head resting on his chest. The warmth of his body seeps into mine, and for the first time in months, I feel like I can breathe.

“Do you miss it?” I ask quietly, staring up at the stars. “Home?”

He’s quiet for a long moment, his fingers tracing patterns on my arm. “Yeah,” he admits finally. “Sometimes. Mostly the quiet. And Aggie’s coffee. And... you.”

I smile faintly at that, my heart squeezing in my chest. “It’s not the same without you either.”

“Jinnie, I know I’ve been distant. And I know this whole thing is a lot. But you’re still my anchor. You’re still the person I want to come home to.”

My throat tightens, and I nod, unable to find the words. He leans in then, his lips brushing mine. Our kissing intensifies, and soon he’s dragging me back inside. We land on his bed with our arms and legs tangled.

The next morning, he wakes me with a kiss.

I don’t want to go.

The visit was too short.

The airport is too bright, too loud, too full of people moving in every direction except the one I want. Jack holds my hand all the way to security, his grip tight like he doesn’t want to let me go. I don’t want to go, but I know I have to. He’s got work and I have... I have nothing, but I’ll pretend I do.

“You’ll come back soon?” he asks for the third time.

I adjust the strap of my carry-on. “As soon as Stephanie gives me time off and you have some time in your schedule.”

The line inches forward.

“Call me when you land,” he says.

“I will.”

“And text me when—”

“Jack.” I squeeze his hand. “I’ll be fine.”

He exhales sharply, then pulls me into a hug, his face buried in my hair. “I’ll miss you”

“I’ll miss you, too.”

He gives me a quick kiss. Neither of us cares that people are watching us.

When it’s my turn at security, I glance back one last time. Jack stands there, hands shoved in his pockets, looking more like the boy I fell for than the star on magazine covers. He raises a hand in farewell.

I wave back; my heart lighter than it’s been in months. This can work. Once he finishes this album, he’ll have more time. I can visit more often.