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“You didn’t trash it, you made it art. It was an iconic performance.”
He came around the table and picked up her pen, his vibrant eyes on her the whole time. “You think so?”
There were few certainties in life. This was one of them. Breath coming too fast, she said, “I know so.”
He took her laptop stack from her hands and placed it on the table, his warm fingers brushing hers as she resisted and then let go. “Have you been googling me?” he said.
She should be googling what to do when you get another chance with the man you’ve been in love with your whole adult life. All she could do was take him in and nod, while her heart became a monster truck and roared around in her rib cage.
“So you’re still a fan?”
Another nod and then a rush of words. “Lostal Paradiso. Lost Paradise.” A Property of Paradise and Lost Property mash-up. “I should’ve guessed. I’ve had this appointment in my calendar for a week. You waited a week to see me when you knew you wanted to.” That couldn’t be good.
“Stage fright.” He held his hands out. “Sweaty palms. A lot could go wrong here. No rehearsal. I figure I’ve got one shot. I wasn’t fair to you. I didn’t give you a chance. I wanted to see you the day I told you to go. I wanted to see you every day after that until the night you showed up again and every day after that. I didn’t know what to do with all the feelings in my head,” he touched his chest, “and in my heart. I fucked it up.”
He took a step towards her and she held herself tightly. He’d kissed her that night backstage and even through his anger he’d been tender. It was a devastating combination. If he came too close, she might hyperventilate.
“I was greedy and afraid too,” he said. “Greedy to have you, though I knew it was sensible to keep our distance. I tried, but not hard enough.” She’d used the same words. She felt the drag of them on her conscience. “You built a rhythm under my skin and I couldn’t let it go. When I figured out who you were, I was afraid you were playing a twisted mind game with me. Making me a dumb sucker all over again.”
Greed and fear. What a mess they’d made of things. “I never meant you to feel that way. I wasn’t thinking clearly. I didn’t know we’d be so good together.”
“I know you tried to tell me, but I got so carried away by the sensation of us, I didn’t let you talk. Got so fucking angry when I realized that was my fault. Then you showed up to give me another chance, looking like all my fantasies brought to life and I got scared and fucked it up again.”
Grip looked away for the first time. “Since then it’s like I swallowed pain, and I was choking on it. Had to work on coughing it all up before I came to see you.”
Comforting him was a reflex action. Two steps brought her close enough to touch his chest, feel the air of his sigh. “We fucked it up. I
didn’t trust you. I wasn’t honest with you and I was playing a game. I thought we’d be hot and fast, a good time and done and no one would get hurt, but I played myself into a corner and I didn’t know how to get out.”
He put his hand over hers, engulfing it. “Had to open all the doors to find the right room.”
“All my doors are open now.” Would he believe her? Lies dug deep, went dormant only to rise up and infect a relationship all over again. “No more secrets. No more lies.”
Grip closed his hand around hers. “The only thing I’m interested in is who you could be to me now.” Her knees were rubbery, her throat was full of cement. Another chance felt dangerously real.
“What do you want, Mena?”
She looked up into his handsome face, disguised by a solemnity that made her ache. “Everything.”
That awful mask slipped as he grinned crookedly. “Eighty plus twenty. All of it. Yeah, me too. What does everything mean to you?”
She owed him honestly. Even as it might not be enough. “My nice house, the security of my mum, my great job, my partnership.” She gulped a breath. “You.”
He brought his other hand to her hip, right over his brand as though sealing it into her skin with his palm through the fabric of her skirt. “In that order?”
She’d had a lot of time to think. “The house is negotiable. But I need my work and I’m one hundred percent in love with you, so I need you too. What do you want?”
“My band, my drums, my piano, my new Percussion for Life Foundation that my talented investment advisor recommended I set up. Gotta get a puppy. My first love. You. I need you to be happy, Philomena Grady, so yeah, you need your work, because I’ll have to tour and being a rock star isn’t all hanging about in the sun, so if you say you’d like to try again, see what we can make together, then I have everything I ever wanted.”
There was gaping flaw in all this, he had to know it too. “Will you ever trust me again?”
He lowered his head, lips almost to her forehead. “Every day I’ll learn to, just like the guys are learning to get over my secret life. Gonna take them about a million years. I think I could learn to trust you much quicker.”
“How much quicker?” Because every day he second-guessed her motives was a day of her happiness overshadowed.
“We could probably shortcut the process with a fucking good kiss.”
She pushed away from him a little. “I’m serious. I want to start earning your trust today.” None of this would work if they papered over that crack.
