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And that wasn't a lie. It would be awesome. To be in a good, stable relationship with a good guy, to have another equally good and stable couple to hang out with on occasion.
To be normal.
It was what I wanted. It was all I hadalwayswanted.
Yet just two messages below Cassie's was Dylan’s. He hadn't replied to me, and I couldn't pretend to know when he would—if heeverwould. The man wasn't anything to me personally other than the occasional casual roll between the proverbial sheets.
But I couldn't forget the impact he had made on my life otherwise, and I couldn't help wondering what he would think of me dating Peter.
If he'd think anything at all.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Dylan
As amazing as Greyson's converted garage was, Devin O'Leary's was heaven on earth.
I hadn’t seen anything like it, and believe me when I say, I'd been in hundreds of recording studios over the years. Some of them were holes in the wall, others decked out to the nines. But none of them had been quite as comfortable and impressive as this.
It was an honor to lay the record down here, and with any luck, it would be the first of many.
If I ever wrote another song, that was.
“So, Dylan,” Devin said, spinning around on his stool at the soundboard, “I'm gonna be honest for a sec, okay?”
“Sure,” I replied, nodding.
He pointed a finger toward the sound booth behind him. “I think I wanna have you slow that last one down,” he instructed. “It's a sensual song, right? I mean, the lyrics are, so maybe if we slow it down a bit and you bring that emotion out a little more—”
“Oh, don't talk to him about emotion,” Simon interrupted with a snort. “Dude's locked up tight.”
Before answering Devin, I shot Simon a heated glare for him to shut his mouth. Then, I replied, “Yeah, I can try that.”
“We might not keep it,” Devin said, leaning back in his seat and cupping his hands behind his head. “But I just wanna hear it. See if it plays out the way it sounds in my head.”
I didn't want to dig down and make the song more sensual. These songs were personal enough without making them sound as deep as they were. Not to mention, one of the perks of going indie was having the freedom to do whatever the hellwewanted withourmusic. But there was no disputing Devin's musical ingenuity, and if he wanted to give me advice, I was going to take it.
So, without a complaint, I pushed my chair in the direction of the sound booth. It was too small to accommodate the chair, but I was able to park outside and use the door handle to pull out of the chair. Then, using the little amount of balance I'd acquired, I eased into the booth and onto the stool inside.
Fitting the headphones over my ears, I gave Devin a thumbs-up. I watched him press a few buttons, and then I heard his voice.
“Whenever you're ready, man.”
Still air filled my lungs, and my eyes stared ahead at the silver microphone, already perfectly adjusted to my height. We had just recorded these vocals to sync with the music. Full band, electric and upbeat. But if he wanted slow and soulful, I couldn't do it with the heavy beat of the drums or the quickened dancing of Si's keys playing in my ears even if they were artificially slowed to a more appropriate tempo.
No.
I needed to do this solo, in my own way. The way it had all begun. Alone in that hotel room as I lost my mind and found my muse in a tangle of black hair and pale skin. Without the guys. Without their bass and keys and drums for me to hide behind.
“Everything good, man?” Devin asked, drawing my attention from the mic to the control room.
I nodded, then asked, “One of you guys wanna bring me Anna?”
Forever loyal and willing to lend a hand, Simon jumped up and grabbed my acoustic from where she was propped against the wall, painted a sleek black and cherry red. He carried the old girl like she was made of glass, knowing better than to treat her with disrespect after everything she'd done for us over the years.
In the minute it took for him to grab my baby and bring her to me, I took a moment to open Facebook, and what looked up at me was a picture of the woman herself—Lennon. It took a second to adjust my eyes to the sight of her gorgeous, round-cheeked face, smiling for the camera. Her lips were painted that same shade of rosy pink that had ended up on my neck, chest, and dick that night in the hotel room, and I smirked … until I saw the guy she was with.
“Your wand, Mr. Wizard,” Simon said after opening the sound booth door and passing the vintage Gibson Hummingbird into my hands.
