Page 33 of After Care

I gasped, but my insides tingled.

This place made perfect sense. The band could never enter a bar like regular people. Gage was recognized everywhere. Ironically, Tommy seemed to be noticed as well which was strange as the band manager. Then again, he told me he played in his sister’s band, Chrome Teardrops, and I figured that must be the recognition. Some music buffs really knew their band members.

A Bee Gees song popped on overhead.

“They’re playing our song,” Tommy whispered, leaning closer to my ear.

“How is this our song?” I giggled.

“You said you’d pick a Bee Gees song to describe me.”

I laughed as I clapped once.

“Dance.” He held out his hand.

“Oh, no. No, I told you I don’t dance. I meant that. It wasn’t a blow off.”

His lips rose and a beautiful smile filled his face. “Oh, yes. You owe me a dance.”

Tugging me off the barstool, he pulled me to the small dance floor and spun me dramatically. I stumbled a little and arched a brow to indicate, see, I told you I can’t dance, but he continued to guide me, pulling me close and moving my hips to match the sway of his. I laughed again, realizing this tough, rock star manager, who swore a little bit too much and kissed like the devil himself, knew how to dance…and to disco.

“You are a wonder, Tommy Carrigan,” I said as he pulled me close to him, chest pressed to chest, as we stood in more of a moving embrace than a dance while the Bee Gees’ song ‘How Deep Is Your Love’ played in the background.

“You are a wonder, Edie Williams. One I want to keep wondering about.”

7

Baby, you’re a rock star

My fingers delicately traced over lips still swollen and rough from kissing Tommy. After dancing, he brought me back to the resort, where he kissed me in his car and then walked me to my door, kissing me some more. We were like teenagers as our mouths mashed together and bodies pressed against walls. The stairwell. The hallway balcony. The tiny alcove entrance to my condo. Each time we broke apart, one of us would reach for the other and another upright surface met someone’s back while mouths returned to devouring each other.

I lay in bed, replaying the night in my mind. Each kiss. Each caress. Tommy had big hands, but he touched me like I was a delicate butterfly, like I might flutter away if he didn’t tenderly care for me. It wasn’t that he couldn’t be rough, but there was a certain control to his hardness. Then I thought of his laugh—husky and rich—like the way he moved his hips. I giggled to myself, recalling how he tugged me into the disco-playing, dive bar, and we danced. I never danced, but with Tommy as my lead, I feared I’d do anything he asked. He made me feel spontaneous, and little more like someone I used to know.

I also thought about my daughter. When I had finally made it through my front door, I found Masie and West on the couch in the small living area, watching a movie.

“Night, honey,” I offered as a simple way of apology and approval for West sitting in the condo without me present. How could I judge her for wanting to spent time with someone who made her feel special? Here’s the thing: Weston Reid was a rock star, but he was spending a lot of time with my daughter instead of trolling the bars with his two wayward bandmates, Jared and Petty. Was her heart going to break when they parted ways? Absolutely, and I’d know firsthand how she’d feel. We’d just have to pick up the pieces together.

When I left my bedroom the next morning, I found Masie already awake, and we decided to hit the pool area early. For a while the silence pressed between us, but slowly she began talking to me. She couldn’t stay angry for long, and she couldn’t keep quiet long, either. We began discussing the litany of things ahead in her final semester of high school, and her decision-making process for college. Nursing school was going to be a difficult journey, but one I knew Masie would embrace with passion, just like everything else in her life. I didn’t want her going far from home, but she needed to branch out and see the world. She was torn between Wisconsin and California, two gravely different areas.

“Think West would come visit me if I went to Santa Clara?” she asked sheepishly.

“That would be fun,” I offered, knowing I tread on thin ice. “Might be hard with his schedule. Doesn’t Collision have a world tour starting next summer?” Tommy told me some of the plans for the band. The world tour was a huge undertaking to promote their next album, which they needed to cut as soon as this vacation was over. I couldn’t piece together why they stayed at a resort instead of renting a condo or a house on the beach. The time of year—winter break—made sense to me, but it seemed strange none of them had gone home to their families to celebrate the holidays.

Masie shrugged. “Maybe the tour will come through the Midwest?” Hope filled her voice while she tried to express with her body language that it didn’t matter. My poor girl was falling hard, and the pieces might be harder to put back together after all. As soon as I looked up to find Tommy walking toward the pool area with Ivy and the girls, I knew my pieces were going to be scattered with my daughter’s.

“Hey,” Ivy said, setting up next to us as if she were part of our family.

“Mornin’ darlin’,” Tommy said, biting his lower lip and letting it roll from his teeth. He’d already texted me this morning to say the same thing, but it wasn’t the same as hearing his voice. I really liked that rolled -r sound.

“Good morning,” I replied, a slow smile pressing my lips upward like they held a secret. That secret included the sensation of his mouth on mine.

“Got to get to the guys. Band practice again today. You lovely ladies have fun.” He winked at me and bent to pat Emaline on the head. “Ivy, honey, see you later.”

“Bye,” she sang, holding up Ava’s hand to wave at their uncle. He blew a kiss to Ava, which Ivy made her reach and catch. Ava giggled. Tommy was too sweet.

We settled in like women do, chatting and giggling about anything and everything. Ivy talked about the girls, and I answered questions about motherhood. Masie talked about college, and Ivy talked about her own experience.

“I went to college to be a music therapist. Even though both my parents were musicians, and I come from a musical family, I can’t really sing.” She giggled. “I guess the gene skipped me. As my mom grew sicker, I saw how music helped her and how sad she was that her singing and playing were slipping away from her. I wanted to help those who needed that peace.”