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I’ve really screwed myself. I’m head over heels in love with this woman and I can’t even tell her. These last few months, I’ve seen a different version of my future. One that I’ve always wanted but didn’t think I could have. One where my audience is moved to serenade me in return. Writing my own music. Her as my muse. Me, as hers.
Yes, there’s a friendship between us. But it’s so much more than that, too and trying to ignore it, is like asking the stars not to shine.
It’s impossible.
And she feels it, too.
“What’s the name of the song? Tell me that, at least.” She says from her perch at the kitchen island.
I dry my hands and watch her with a knowing smile. I should have known she wouldn’t let it go. I’m not ready to play it yet, but there’s no harm in sharing that. “Between Now and Heartbreak.”
She frowns. “I’m your muse for a song with the word Heartbr
eak in it?”
I laugh and “Yeah…it’s the wage of loving people you have no control over. There’s no way for it to end happily. Even if you have a lifetime of joy, one of you is going to die or leave or whatever— someone always ends brokenhearted”
“Wow…that’s romantic.” She grumbles.
I wink. “No, what’s romantic is knowing that and loving anyway,”
She straightens away from me, but I can practically smell the pleasure she’s feeling at my words.
“Can you play any of it for me? I want to hear it. I know what you mean. I wouldn’t trade any of what happened. That summer was short, but it was the best of my life. Well, depending on how this one ends, that might change.”
That’s real longing I see in her ocean blues, that turmoil in them is what I feel, to.
I cup her cheeks “Beth—”
“Yes?” she covers my hands with hers and leans toward me, if I wanted kiss her, all I’d have to do is lean in an inch. I don’t think she’d stop me.
The loud, metallic burst of sound from my phone cuts through our haze like a knife and just like that, she’s moving back. The relief in her expression stings. I need to stop trying to force her to want this just because I’m so into her.
I look at my phone and see it’s Porsha. I groan inwardly. I never even read her text. “I’ll be right back. Don’t move.”
By the time I’ve stepped out into the hallway, the phone has stopped ringing. I call her back.
“Hey, sorry I missed you”
“Did you get my text?” Porsha asks in a uncharacteristically quiet voice.
“Uh, shit, I forgot to read it.”
“Of course you did. Anyway, I’m on a break from my rounds and thought I’d try you. Dean Orleans asked me to reach out to you.”
That’s the last thing I expected her to say. “He did?”
“Yeah, he’s going to Austin for work and wants to see if you can meet.”
I choose my words carefully. “Not to sound ungrateful, but…how do you know Dean Orleans?”
“He’s married to my cousin, Milly.”
“You’ve never mentioned that.”
“Well, I’m mentioning it now. Do you want his number or not?”
“Yes. Please.”
