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PROLOGUE
This is How a Heart Breaks by Rob Thomas
There are times in your life when you choose to stay stagnant, as if you're a voyeur watching it pass you by, but the problem is you think you’re a part of it, not realizing you’ve made any choice at all. You think you’re living but you’re not – until someone crashes into your life, turns it upside down, and shows you a different angle. That’s when muted colors turn vibrant and you begin to notice the beat of your own heart, each one thumping against your ribcage as if it’s trying to break free. You notice the air pressing down and suddenly you’re aware of gravity, because that’s all that’s keeping you grounded.
That’s what happened to me, one year ago, on the eve of my forty-third birthday.
But I was too stubborn, too stuck in the past; unable to recognize what was right in front of me.
Now I’m in a race against time to get to him. Each mile is an endless void, taking up space, and taking up time.
Time that I’m running out of…
I can almost hear his dirty whispers in my ear. “You’ve made me wait far too long, Lake.”
The image of him takes up all the space in my mind… so perfect, so pretty that it hurts.
Pushing my Porsche past the speed limit, I drive South on the 101 towards Tempe. Lightning flashes in the distance illuminating the McDowell Mountain range, outlining its formidable peak against the backdrop of night. The low rumble of thunder follows in its wake and strong winds rattle the car.
The monsoon.
Even with all the windows up I can still smell the impending rain, and with every shaky breath, I feel the dust enter my lungs. When the rain finally comes, it hits my windshield hard, amplified by the car moving above the speed limit. Every drop forces me to remember the night we met a year ago. What I remember the most and what is the hardest to escape my mind are his eyes, a soft brown with secret green flecks that you wouldn’t notice unless they were trained on you. It’s been too long since I last laid eyes on him, but his every feature is locked in my mind forever. Dark hair resting over his ears, barely skimming his shoulders, that felt like silk between my fingers, and feathered along my chest, between my breasts, and teased my stomach as he made me forget about the world around us. Beautiful tattoos adorned his arm, snaking over his chest and along his ribcage, and the way his skin felt as my finger traced each one, committing them to memory.
My heart hammers in my chest as I merge onto 60, getting closer, but still not close enough. Even at this late hour traffic is still heavy, because Friday night is when downtown Tempe comes to life. The rain pours down on the city, like it’s washing away its sins and beginning again.
My sins are not so easily washed away.
Gripping the steering wheel I curse in frustration, because I’ve never been a patient woman. When I want something, I want it now, and I’m no closer to him than I was ten minutes ago.
A bolt of nervous energy runs through me like the lightning that divides the sky as soon as I find a parking spot. Heavy rains soaks me the minute I exit the car. Only adrenaline carries me forward as I take off running down Mill Avenue towards Southern.
Towardshim.
The street fills with electricity as another bolt of lightning illuminates the sky, raising the hairs on my arm. MyGracelandshirt is plastered to my body, and my hair is dripping wet. When I get to theTap Room, everything stops, except my heart. Every beat against my chest is amplified like a drum filling my ears. Standing in front of the bar where I first laid eyes on Adrian Corvin nearly one year ago, on the eve of my forty-third birthday, I’m suddenly unable to move. He was the guy on the stage with the velvet voice and the soulful eyes that saw past my walls to the broken woman beneath.
I’d like to say he fixed me.
That his hands and his heart pieced me back together.
But I wouldn’t let him.
If I could tell the younger me not to go to this bar a year ago, I still wouldn’t have listened.
Jolting back to reality when the door crashes open, the bouncer looks out at the storm and sees me standing there in the pouring rain looking like a very sad version of myself, but in reality, I’ve never felt more myself. People huddle under the awning looking at the rain collecting near the curb, running along like a river with nowhere to go. Sheets of water are pushed onto the sidewalk as cars pass.
Stepping over the threshold and into the bar, the pounding of the rain stops but it’s overtaken by the noise coming from inside the bar. Water drips from my clothes onto the floor and people stare as they walk by. I can only imagine what I look like, but I don’t care.
An Aerosmith song pours from the speakers inside the bar, but it doesn’t fill me with the joy I had been anticipating, not like it used to. TheTap Roomhad consumed my Friday nights where I would watch him play, entranced by how much fun he had on stage, the smile that came so easy to him, and the way the crowd responded. Looking around the bar, whispers of his words come back to haunt me. I can almost feel his lips brush my ear, and his breath tease the hairs on my neck when he said,I will never be able to listen to another Aerosmith song without thinking of your sweet fucking pussy.
My heart drops into my belly like a sinking rock because I know I’m too late, but I wander further into the bar anyway, taking the same steps I did a year ago, and I’m an idiot if I think it will yield the same results… because when I look up at the stage, he’s not there. In his place is Finlay, and he doesn’t look happy to see me.
1
DON’T BE A DRAMA QUEEN
Only Happy When It Rains by Garbage
My office is filled with the early morning light, overlooking the Scottsdale riverfront. It’s a trendy part of town with professional buildings, coffee shops, restaurants, and boutiques. Chewing on the cap of a pen, I stare at my laptop, reviewing the same set of financial statements I was last night.
