Behind the Strings (15 page)

38

It had been a whirlwind of a week. After Logan left, work was crazy and I really didn’t have much time to sit down and think about whether or not I was going to tell Jesse about Logan’s feelings for me. When Saturday afternoon had come around, I was running out of time. I had made plans with Jesse to come over that evening and if I was going to tell him, it was going to be then.

While I was at the store that afternoon, I went back and forth about my decision. If I didn’t tell Jesse because I didn’t want to lose him, that was a selfish choice. I was the only one who had anything to gain if I made that decision. However, if I did tell him, I was positive tonight would be the end for us.

I cringed at both scenarios and tossed a package of uncooked chicken in the cart. I couldn’t remember the last time I had had
real
food in my cart. I smiled at my ambitiousness to make a home-cooked meal for the guy I adored. On days Mama was in a hurry to get to work or there was minimal time between schoolwork and gymnastics practice, she would always throw together a good ol’ chicken pot pie, so it’s the first thing I thought of. Though I wasn’t going to try to impress him by attempting a homemade crust, I was still excited to whip out some southern comfort.

In the middle of chopping celery, my phone rang and I was shocked to see it was Logan. I hadn’t heard from him since he left, which I had expected. I wiped my hand on my jeans and slid the phone open to speaker.

“Hello?”

“Hey, what are you up to?” he asked.

“I am actually chopping up some celery,” I said feeling liberated.

“I’m sorry, can you say that again?” I could hear the mocking tone in his voice. “I must have heard that wrong.”

“You did not hear that wrong,” I said with a twinge of attitude. “I’m making chicken pot pie.”

“What in the world made you decide to cook a pot pie?” he asked.

“Oh, you know…” I said, wavering, then said something vague about having some people over and how it wouldn’t be very hospitable of me to serve pizza. Even though I technically didn’t lie, I stretched the truth a little. He agreed and told me how proud he was of me for acting like a grownup. There was no mention in our conversation about the “L” word, but he did have something else to throw at me.

“Besides the chicken pot pie, guess what else you have in the oven?” Logan said.

I thought for a minute, assuming I was missing the joke. Logan let me hang on to my thoughts a little while longer before he revealed the answer. He had received a call from his publicist about the newest episode of “Nashville Nights.” It seemed that Hunter Jennings was at it again. Logan asked me if I was sitting down, and my heart began to race a bit as I pulled out the stool from behind the island.

“I’m having a
what
?!” I exclaimed.

I placed my hand over my stomach. Sure I hadn’t been working out as much lately, unless you count the bedroom calories I’d been burning (which surely made up for it) but even still, did I really look like I was pregnant?

“You are not fat, Celia, stop it,” Logan assured me. “These guys grasp at anything, remember? My publicist actually had me post a couple tweets mocking the story, so don’t worry, we’ve got it under control. I just wanted to let you know so you weren’t caught off-guard.”

I thanked him for the heads-up and we talked a few more minutes before hanging up. I pressed the phone against my chest when the call was over trying to wrap my head around it all. As if I didn’t already have enough to deal with in my
real
life, I had to worry about the life people were making up for me as well. I mean, really: me, having a baby. I shook it off and went back to chopping, mixing and stuffing my pot pie before putting it in the fridge so I could go get ready. Since we were staying in, I decided to keep it simple. I plumped my hair up with some hot rollers and slipped on a pair of white lace shorts and black crop top.

I plopped the pie in the oven right before Jesse arrived. I opened the door to find his face hidden by a gorgeous bouquet of lilies. I fell into him with a kiss and squeezed my arms around his neck. It was amazing how much I had missed him after only a few days.

“Here, come in,” I said. “I’ll get these in some water.”

“It smells amazing in here. What are you cooking?”

“A woman never tells her secrets,” I said.

The lilies looked perfect in the center of the island. With both of our hands now free, I wrapped myself into Jesse’s strong embrace. The one thing I loved the most was the way he lifted me off the ground with barely any effort at all. I could wrap my legs around him and look him in the eyes without straining my neck at the obvious height difference. His lips were soft on my neck each time they fell upon it until finally they collided with mine.

“How much longer until dinner is done?” he whispered.

I looked back at the oven timer and was pretty sure we could make it work. Jesse carried me to the living room and pushed every worry out of mind as he laid me on the couch. If it was all going to fall apart tonight, I needed this one more time. His hands teased their way under my shirt and when they grabbed a hold of my breasts I could feel my back arch, thrusting myself closer into him. My tongue slipped deeper and harder into his the more I yearned for him.

He pulled away from me and slid his lips back down my neck and over my shirt, stopping at my bare stomach. Slowly he kissed every inch of it from left to right and back again before he replaced his hands with his tongue as he lifted my shirt higher. My body was now trembling underneath him, his hand sliding up my inner thigh. I could feel the rush inside of me and just as I heard my voice cry out his name, the sound of the oven timer ripped me from my glory. Jesse’s head fell onto my chest.

“Dinner’s ready,” I said, cringing.

We both moaned. Jesse peeled himself up off of me and reached out to pull me up. The aroma coming from the oven was almost as heavenly as the moment it interrupted and the top of the crust was perfectly golden. Still breathing heavy, I pulled it out. From the outside it looked like I had pulled it off, but the real test was still to come.

Jesse poured us some wine that almost matched the color of his flushed skin while I lit the never-used candles that graced my dining room table before scooping out a piece of pie for each of us. The steam escaped as I set each one onto a plate, but the insides were holding together pretty well.

“It looks delicious,” Jesse said, stabbing it with his fork.

I watched him closely with my wine glass to my lips. He blew on it a few times to cool it off and then took the heaping bite into his mouth. I held my breath. He chewed slowly. I watched his eyes deep in concentration.

“Wow, Celia, that is really good. Are you sure you made this?”

I winced. “
Yes
, I made this!”

“I’m only kidding. Honestly, try it, you did well.”

Jesse was right, I had done pretty well. The pot pie was delicious; we both even had seconds and another glass of wine before he helped me clean up and we settled back down onto the couch. This time, though, was a little more slow-paced. I lay on his chest with my feet curled onto his lap while we watched reruns of “It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia.” I’d never seen it before, but we laughed our way through most of season one before the wine started to kick in.

“Somebody’s tired,” he said.

The oversized yawn must’ve given it away. I lifted myself up and with my half-opened eyes shook my head. He laughed at me as he took my head in his hands and kissed my forehead.

“Come on, pretty,” he said.

I felt his hands slip underneath me. I leaned into him as he lifted me off the couch. After he sat me onto the bed I watched him stare as I slowly pulled my shorts off and dropped them to the floor. As I lifted my shirt up over my head I suddenly no longer felt as tired. I looked at him, standing still in front of me.

“Are you coming to bed?” I asked.

He didn’t say a word. He just stared at me as he loosened his belt buckle. Soon the both of us were half-naked on the bed, melted underneath the covers. Jesse’s hand stroked the sides of my ribs. Every now and then he would hit the side of my hip and I would jolt away from him. That was the only part of my body that was ticklish. I couldn’t help but laugh each time.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he said.

With those words my decision was made. I couldn’t tell Jesse. I didn’t want to lose him. When Logan came back I would be honest with him. I would confess everything and make him understand. It was going to be okay. I was going to fix all of it and Jesse and Logan and I, we were going to be all right.

Once I convinced myself of my solution, I lay there with Jesse, our bodies warm against each other. I rubbed the scruff of his cheeks and we stared into each other’s eyes. There was nothing more that needed to be said that night. Wrapped up tightly in each other, we fell asleep that night with a galaxy full of stars as witness to our happiness.

39

I woke up the next morning to the sound of a guitar playing softly through the hall. I rolled over to find the other side of the bed empty and smiled as I listened to the melody. When it stopped, I slid out of bed, wrapped myself in my robe, and walked out to the living room where Jesse was sitting with a familiar old guitar in his lap.

“I hope you don’t mind,” he said.

That guitar hadn’t been played in years. It just sat there, closed up in its case in the corner of my bedroom. My dad had given it to me for my sixteenth birthday. Well, he didn’t actually give it to me, he had it delivered. Along with it came a note with an apology, like every year before.

“Not at all,” I said. “I bet it needed a serious tune-up.”

“That it did,” he said, “but I think I got it.”

“It sounded beautiful to me,” I said.

Jesse pointed to the kitchen, where he had already set a mug out for me next to a freshly-brewed pot of coffee. Mornings like this after nights like last I could get used to. He began to play again as I poured coffee into my cup and settled down next to him.

“That sounds amazing,” I said.

“You like it? I made it up this morning. I was feeling inspired.”

“Oh were you?” I asked. “Is it a love song?”

He smiled. “A writer never tells his secrets.”

He asked me if I wanted to play along with him and was a bit surprised when I told him I had absolutely no idea how to actually play guitar. I could tell he was confused at how I could have a guitar I’d never played.

“Remember how I told you my dad wasn’t around much?” He nodded. “To make up for important dates or events he missed, he used to send me gifts. I guess he thought it would make up for it. That guitar was one of them. My sixteenth birthday. I don’t even remember where he said he was. All the excuses began to jumble together after my tenth or eleventh birthday, I think.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said. “Why did he leave?”

“Have you ever heard of the Black Horizons?” I asked. I could see the mixed emotions on his face. “My dad is a musician, or he was, I don’t even know what he does anymore. There was nothing that he cared more about than being on that stage. The Black Horizons were at the peak of their popularity when my mom got pregnant. Even a little baby like me couldn’t keep Jack Coleman from the one thing he loved more than anything in the world.”

Jesse’s shoulders sunk and he leaned back into the arm of the couch. Jack Coleman was talented, there was no denying it. Anyone who grew up in this industry would know that, so I’m sure it wasn’t easy for him to hear he wasn’t as successful in other areas of his life as he was on that stage.

“Celia, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay. I think you get so used to it, that you stop getting disappointed.”

He placed the guitar down on the coffee table and scooted over to me. I felt both of his arms pull me into him as he held me. His lips were cold when they touched my forehead.

“My dad died when I was seven,” Jesse said. I looked up to see him blinking back tears. “He fought a hell of a fight, but in the end the cancer won.”

“I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”

“I don’t talk about it a lot. After he died, the Johnny Cash songs he used to play…I stopped listening to them for a long time. I stopped listening to anything. I was angry. I thought that shutting music out of my life would make the pain go away. I thought it would stop hurting if I let go of the one thing that reminded me of my dad.”

I was dumbfounded at the words coming out of Jesse’s mouth. It was as if he was reading a chapter from the book of my life. My eyes filled with tears for both him and me. Though we had lost our fathers in two different ways, we still lost them and that loss had caused us to run from something we loved dearly. But, somehow we found it in us to make our way back to it and to each other.

“The year that Johnny Cash died,” Jesse said, “I remember pulling out an old vinyl and I played the song ‘I’m Gonna Try to Be That Way.’ It was my dad’s favorite. I could’ve sworn as the song played that it was my dad’s voice I heard. I cried like a baby for a good hour after that and then I made a promise that I would try really hard to be the kind of man my dad would’ve wanted me to be. And that man loved music. So I picked up a guitar and I haven’t put it down since.”

I kissed his cheek softly. “I am beyond certain that your dad is looking down on you right now, smiling.”

He wiped a tear from his cheek and held me tighter. “I miss him every day. There’s things in my life I wish I could call him up and talk to him about, and moments I wish he could be here to share with me. Time, you know…it’s a fragile thing. It’s a shame when some people don’t see it like that.”

When I looked up at him his lips pressed gently against mine. I could tell that he was sad for me that my dad chose to love something else more. And I could see in his eyes the way he loved his own father. He reached over and picked the guitar up again and held it out for me to take. I hesitated at first, but he told me to trust him. And this time, without question, I did, so I took the guitar into my hands.

“Okay, now you want to place your left hand here and your fingers here…here…and here.”

He placed a guitar pick in my right hand and helped me glide it over the strings. He was patient with me that morning as I learned from him. We’d master one chord, then move on to the next. We were in our own little world that Sunday morning. There were no expectations, no interruptions and no time limits. The two of us were everything that we needed to be to one another as we sat behind those strings. We were safe and free of any obligation.

Once I had learned a few chords, I took a break and handed the guitar back to Jesse. “Can you play me a song?”

“You mean your song?” he asked.

“Do I have a song?”

He didn’t answer. He just smiled and pulled the paper on the table close to him and started to sing.

I’ve been so many places

On the road chasing dreams

I’ve seen so many faces

I get lost in the scene

I lowered my coffee mug into my lap as I watched his fingers play. It was perfect in every way. The music, the melody, the rhythm and the moment. I saw the smile on his face grow as he sang the rest of it, his eyes closed tight.

But now that I found you

It don’t matter if the sun is shining or the clouds are storming

I know where I belong

When I wake up next to you

On a Sunday morning

I learned forward when he was done and pressed my lips against his. If there was one single moment since the two of us had met that I wished I could bottle up and keep forever, this right here was the one.