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“I didn’t realize how starving I am,” Cailin says. We manage to make our way to the kitchenette area. Cailin cuts the sandwich rolls and visions of her hands a few minutes earlier dance in my mind.
“We worked up quite the appetite.” The moments before I took Cailin in the bedroom, I felt like I was about to burst. Yet, all the built-up tension was worth it because being with Cailin, I felt like I transcended to another level of the universe. This deep love, this unexplainable passion to become a part of her, is something I didn’t think existed because I never felt it with anyone. But it does exist. And it was worth pushing back my impulses.
“No more of that, or we are never going to get it together.” I love how Cailin pushes me away in an attempt to be serious. She can’t keep a straight face.
“I can’t help it. I can’t keep my hands off you.” She’s wearing my T-shirt. It’s the first time a woman has worn my clothes and I find it sexy as hell. Maxine prepared her post-sex outfit next to the bed.
“Let’s at least try long enough to make our sandwiches. Deal?” Cailin doesn’t hide the fact that she is enjoying my shirtless torso.
“Deal.” I make coffee to get my mind off of what I really want to do next.
“Just what I need,” Cailin tells me, inhaling the coffee aroma. “We need to start making ourselves presentable. We’re going to hit the next town soon, right?”
I nod.
“I can’t wait to use the hotel shower,” she says. “I also haven’t checked my work email in a few hours. I think it’s a weekday. I’ve totally lost track of time at this point.”
“I’ve lost track of everything that doesn’t have to do with you.” That says a lot because I need to stay focused on my tour, the album I’m about to release, and the hit song that’s not on it because I have yet to record one.
Cailin has already pulled up her email on her phone. “Guess what? We have a confirmed phone interview for you tonight before the show with none other than the number one weekly newsstand magazine.”
“Get out. The cover story?” I put down my mug, splashing a drop of coffee on the table. I try to play it cool, but I’m so relieved to have a cover story secured. This means I’m still relevant.
“The cover story.” Cailin shows me her phone. “They are going to send a photographer to tomorrow’s show.”
I give Cailin an appreciative kiss that won’t lure us back to bed and tell her, “Good job, publicist.”
“It was a pretty easy pitch,” Cailin says. “Everyone wants to know how this story is going to play out.” So do I and I can’t help but have that thought linger in my mind.
* * *
CAILIN
I reply back to the reporter and shoot Marisol an email to let her know that everything is going according to plan. With Jax coming clean by saying he made the first move, it will take some of the heat off me, and Marisol’s firm will keep its credibility. The reporter will probably ask Marisol for a quote to confirm that she’s okay with her employee dating one of her biggest clients.
We eat and go over the details for the interview. I prep Jax on some questions he should be prepared to answer as we make ourselves presentable. My hair has been pulled into a messy bun and I can’t wait to wash it and wear it down. Jax puts on a pair of jeans and a vintage looking T-shirt with strategic rips in it. He probably paid $100 for those rips that I can do myself with scissors. But it’s $100 well spent. This shirt clings to his body, which is still damp from sweat. Traces of our passion embedded in his threads.
We discuss that there’s nothing to fake or cover up here, so he’s just going to have to be honest with whatever is thrown his way. We just have to hope that the questions are genuine and the reporter doesn’t dig for a controversial hook. Once that’s settled, Jax gets cozy on the couch and starts strumming his acoustic guitar. This is another milestone for us— the first time we’re just hanging out and he has the opportunity to play for me.
“I wrote some lyrics the other day and I think I just got inspired with a melody I want to get down,” he says.
“It sounds beautiful.” I could listen to him play the guitar forever. A swoon-worthy melody fills the air while his calloused fingertips strum along. Jax doesn’t look up as he plays, rather he is fixated on getting out what’s floating around in his head. I don’t mind, though, because it’s my own private symphony that I don’t have to share with anyone else.
“Just like the woman who inspired it. The song is about being unapologetically in love.”
“Like the statement you made to the media.”
“Also, how I’m feeling.”
Jax starts singing a chorus and my heart begins to melt. I’ve never had a man do something so romantic for me. And here is the man of my literal dreams, sitting in front of me, writing a song about loving me. That’s when it hits me and a teardrop escapes my eye. By the time it slowly falls down my cheek and lands on my shirt, Jax has raised his head in my direction.
“I hope those are happy tears.” He puts down his guitar and moves closer to me to wipe the corners of my eyes.
“I love it,” I tell Jax. And then something comes over me. I don’t want to hide it or play it cool. I’m so deep into this right now, there’s no escaping it. I’m diving in headfirst. I can’t let fear of heartbreak or any of these too-good-to-be-true intrusive thoughts invade my mind. I’ve already hit rock bottom earlier this year and look where it brought me? Beyond anything I could ever imagine for myself. I’m going to tell Jax how I feel.
“I’m completely in love with you, Cailin.” Jax beat me to it.
“I love you too, Jax,” I say, my mouth breaking out into the biggest grin. The unexplainable feeling that envelops me when Jax pulls me into a passionate embrace can only be summed up as relief and ecstasy. He’s showing me how I am supposed to be loved.
