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We had been quite a few times. Some days, it felt like all the time.
I tried to swallow the emotion clogging my chest, but the guilt was too thick, almost tangible. Because I wanted this. I wanted a woman to be impressed with what I could do. I wanted my kids to be excited about something I enjoyed. I might’ve learned guitar in college to get noticed by a girl in the dorms across from mine, but I truly loved doing something so different from what I was raised to do.
Tova lifted her gaze to mine, and her smile faltered.
What did my expression look like? I schooled my features to hopefully come off as passive when inside a storm raged. I wanted so much more than what I’d had, and I was shitty for it.
I cleared my throat and tested the strings. I messed with the tuning until I was satisfied. “Okay, see if you can guess this song.” I strummed out a few chords of Dolly Parton’s “Jolene” and watched Tova’s thrilled smile spread across her face.
I would be a shitty guy for a little bit longer.
Ten
Tova
I lay in the guest bedroom, covers thrown back, sprawled across the bed. Goose bumps dotted my skin, but I didn’t care. After being restricted to a scratchy couch, I wanted to utilize each inch of the queen bed.
The house was cute. The inside reminded me of Frederick’s place, oddly enough. The two-story country home didn’t resemble the mansion in anything more than its vibe. Someone like Vienne designed this home. They decorated it. The insides were tasteful, almost subdued. Organizing bins filled the kids’ closets and the kitchen was ordered with near military precision. Nothing that described what the family was like could be deciphered from the décor.
How stifling.
I wasn’t a slob, but if I had a home that was all mine, I’d want to relax in it. I would sprawl like I was doing now. I would have throw pillows that I actually put my head on when I lay on the couch to watch TV. I’d have a cup by the fridge—all the time. Just for water. Just in case.
I could fully unpack my suitcase for once in my life.
I’d pull the trunk out of storage that Thelma was keeping for me. The blankets Grandma crocheted would be on the back of the couch. I didn’t care if they didn’t match a damn thing. I’d find the pictures she cross-stitched and the kitchen towels. I had an entire bundle of embroidered dish towels Grandma had saved from her mom. She told me to use them. “If they don’t end up ripped and stained, they’re pointless,” she’d said.
I giggled when I thought of using them in Frederick’s immaculate kitchen. His personal chef would’ve gotten a kick out of the one with the words “This towel isn’t the only thing that’s dirty” sewn onto it. Frederick would’ve hemorrhaged and kicked me out.
I should’ve used them.
Straightening the blankets, I tried to burrow into the pristine sheets and go to sleep.
No luck.
I flung them off again and let the cool air sweep over me.
A guitar twang made me sit up. Was Cody awake?
The moods that man had been through since we arrived made my head spin and my heart ache. How hard was it to be back here? Happy memories didn’t bounce off these walls. The only two rooms that looked like they were lived in were the two offices across the hall from the guest room. The bedrooms were upstairs.
A longer melody played this time. Slower. Sadder. It stopped.
I shouldn’t be nosy, but I stood anyway. I wasn’t wearing a bra under the souvenir shirt I’d bought at the airport, but the garment was baggy and it was dark. Padding through the house, I followed the sound to the back deck. Twice as large as the one in Crocus Valley, it had the same unlived-in feel as the rest of the house.
The glass sliding door was open. The music was louder, a melancholy tune that was also sweet. I couldn’t come up with the name, but I knew I’d heard it before.
I crept to the screen door and peered out. Flies buzzed around the yard light, and the tang of citronella hung in the air. I barely noticed any of that. Cody reclined in a chair, the guitar at an angle that didn’t look comfortable to play. His feet were kicked up and bare, and he had no shirt on.
No shirt.
Shadows cloaked him, but I suddenly had a cat’s night vision. His long, slender feet that were usually hidden in loafers, and occasionally, if I was a lucky gal, cowboy boots were crossed at the ankles. Was every part of him sexy?
I couldn’t see his chest, but I was desperate to. I pushed open the screen door before I decided if it was a good idea or not.
He stopped playing and cocked his head back. “You might want to come all the way out. You’re lettin’ bugs in.”
I stepped out and closed the door behind me.
