Because even the sun can burn out.
Phoenix needs to recharge and fall in love with music again.
And when he comes back—because I’ll make sure he does—his career will no longer be tainted with guilt because he’ll know everything he has going forward is solely because of him.
He’ll have a fresh start.
“First, I have a few questions.”
She pulls a water bottle out of her bag and takes a sip. “Shoot.”
“How long does it take to record an album?”
I remember reading that the new album was scheduled to come out at the end of January. It’s the middle of September now so her answer will tell me just how long he’ll have.
“It depends. Once the music is written and the songs are chosen, it mostly comes down to studio time.” She chews the end of her pen. “The first album took the longest because they were new. It was a little over a month. The second album only took them two weeks to record.”
“So, for this next album, they wouldn’t have to start recording until…”
“The day after new year’s,” she supplies. “That should be enough time.”
New year, clean slate. Sounds perfect to me.
“In that case, tell Vic to book studio time for the beginning of January. Phoenix will fulfill his contractual obligation, record the album, and do all the press that goes along with it. But until then, he’s on vacation.”
Something he desperately needs.
She winces. “I’ll tell him, but he might decide to cut his losses and replace him. Phoenix is amazing, but this new guy doesn’t have the bad press.”
This is the part that’s going to require me to be sneaky, because Phoenix won’t like this one bit…given it will undo everything he did.
But I love him. Way more than the song.
“I’ll be doing an interview a week before the album drops.” This way it will get a buzz generating. “I’ll tell everyone we’re married, and that Phoenix didn’t steal my song…he cowrote it. Only he didn’t tell anyone because I specifically asked him not to. I didn’t…”
A wave of grief catches me by the throat.
Sorry, Dad. I’m gonna need you for this.
Along with the nerve to disclose my own truth.
“I was afraid of being compared to my dad and not measuring up.”
Skylar stops writing. “Lennon—”
My eyes burn, but I keep going. “Phoenix was only doing what I asked, but the guilt he felt for not giving me any recognition kept gnawing at him, so he decided to come clean.”
“You know Phoenix isn’t gonna go for that.”
“That’s why we’re not going to tell him until after.”
Then he won’t be able to do anything about it because how could he? His wife, whom he claimed he stole a song from, is publicly telling everyone he didn’t.
His status will be restored, and the world will go back to thinking he’s a god again.
Because he was born for this.
“That should take care of his reputation.”
“Oh, it definitely will.” She makes a face. “But if for some crazy reason Vic doesn’t go for it…what then?”
Then I do exactly what my dad would want me to do.
“Tell him this small-town pussy from back home will be the one suing him and him alone. For every penny he made off my fucking song.” I sharpen my gaze. “In other words, he has two choices. He can either play nice and we’ll all have a spot on the chessboard…or I’ll light the fucking thing up and watch him burn.”
Vic might be power hungry, but he’s not stupid.
She throws her notebook. “That’s it. I wanna be you when I grow up.”
There was a time in my life when I wanted to be someone else, too.
I find myself smiling. Now I’m married to him.
“Are you sure you’re gonna be okay dealing with the Memphis and Gwen baby extravaganza until January?”
It’s a lot to ask and if she tells me it’s too hard, I’ll understand.
I just need a little time.
“I’ll be okay,” she assures me, although I catch the brief flash of pain in her eyes.
I’m about to probe but there’s a tap on her window and Chandler comes into view…holding what appears to be a pair of panties in his hand.
What. The. Hell?
“Gotta go,” Skylar squeaks before she disappears from my screen.
Dammit. I call her back, but she must have shut her phone off because it goes straight to voice mail.
Shaking my head, I get off the couch and go back upstairs.
Phoenix is still sound asleep when I come back so I crawl into bed beside him.
Placing my head on his chest, I trace the music notes over his heart.
But they’re no longer mine. Or his. They’re ours.
Because half my heart and soul belong to him.
The other halves are broken beyond repair.
But I don’t want to think about that right now.
I just want to listen to my husband’s heartbeat, feel his skin against mine, and inhale his scent into my system.
I thought letting him in again after he destroyed me meant I was weak, but perhaps it’s valor.
Because I have what it takes to rise from the ashes after I’ve been burned.
I shouldn’t wake him; he’s been running himself ragged taking care of me and I know he needs his rest, but I miss him.
And there’s no one on the planet who can make me forget about my pain like he can.
Hoping to rouse him, I slide my hand down his torso until I reach the waistband of his boxers.
When that doesn’t work, I slip my fingers beneath the elastic and pull him out.
He twitches, growing hard in my hand, but Phoenix doesn’t wake.
I scoot down until I’m hovering above his thickening cock. Opening my mouth, I lick around his head.
A low hungry groan leaves him, and his dick swells to its massive size, but his eyes don’t open.
How the hell is he sleeping through this? Have I lost my touch?
Nope. Screw that. Phoenix said it himself, I give great head.
Probably because I genuinely enjoy satisfying my partner.
Although my partner doesn’t seem very satisfied right now on account of being passed out cold.
Impatience billows through me and I wrap my hand around his base and suck him deeper, stroking him and my bruised ego in tandem.
I blatantly gag on him, giving it my all…and nada. Even though his body’s responding because I can taste the precum leaking from his tip and feel him jerking in my mouth. He’s trembling, for fuck’s sake.
Growing more frustrated, I increase my suction and quicken my pace. If he doesn’t wake up after this, I’m going to call 911.
“Fuck,” he groans, his hands gripping the sheets and his hips jerking upward. “I can’t take it anymore. This is goddamn torture. Please stop.”
Wow. Embarrassment courses through me as I unhinge my jaw and release him.
I didn’t think he’d mind waking up to a blow job, but boy was I wrong.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…” I feel like a total creeper. “I’m so sorry.”
He peers down at me. “Lennon?”
Was he expecting someone else?