The beginning of the movie was adorable and predictable, but I watched the whole thing, alternately intrigued, bored, and tapping my fingers in time to songs I realized I knew even though I hadn’t known from where. And now it all made sense. Certainly not a movie I’d watch again, but the underlying themes made a lot of the things Brianna said more poignant. However, it was also a movie about change, growth, and sacrifice. Not just for the characters themselves, but for each other. From where I was sitting, that’s what relationships were supposed to be.
I didn’t yet know if Bri and I were relationship material, but I wanted to find out and I had to convince her to give it a chance. We seemed to be on that path, especially with me having her cat at my place, but I knew her well enough to sense she wouldn’t jump in with both feet. No matter how good the sex was, or how well we got along, she had doubts. Hell, so did I.
What would happen if the band went back out on tour?
There was no way to answer that, and with almost anyone else, I’d have that conversation right away. With Bri, I had to be careful. My organic venti whatchamacallit would probably drive away without looking back.
Meeting Noah had opened my eyes to some things, though. He was a junkie. I’d know one anywhere since I saw a lot of that in the music business. He was trying, but based on his shaking hands and gaunt face, he was hanging on by a thread. He was drinking to help him through the day, to help him sleep, and probably for everything, which didn’t bode well for him. He was a ticking time bomb and I both sensed and personally felt Bri’s frustration because I’d only known the kid a day and I was rooting for him. But he was a mess.
Kiki seemed good for him, but he needed more than the love of a woman to get through this. He needed real help. Betty Ford type help. He’d said Bri had paid for his first stint in rehab, which explained why it had taken her this long to save up for culinary school, and I wanted to offer her the money so he could go again. It was nothing to me. I had so much it made me feel a little guilty sometimes, but once again, my gut screamed that Bri wouldn’t take it without a fight. I could go right to Noah, get him in a program without even talking to her about it, but that would be the end of any potential for us as a couple.
Instead, we were all going to have to wait.
Why were people so weird about money? Had I been that way when I’d been broke?
Thinking back, I hadn’t been stubborn about Casey’s offer to play with her, but I’d made it clear I needed a job unless and until we went on tour. I’d taken the offer and the help when it had presented itself, because I’d known opportunities like that didn’t come around every day. I’d swallowed my pride and let her put me up in a hotel, find me a job at said hotel working in the kitchen, and jumped in headfirst when Pretty Harts had been in its early stages. We’d all known what magic we had from the first day.
Ironically, I felt a lot of that magic with Nobody’s Fool too. The problem was that while Pretty Harts had taken off, Nobody’s Fool was going more slowly. The industry had changed, of course, so I knew it wasn’t necessarily a telling factor of whether or not we’d find success, it was just a matter of when. And my own misgivings about every fucking thing in my life.
This was probably the worst time to get involved with someone, but we were drawn to each other. Most of it until now had been sex, so I had to show her there was more to me than that. We laughed a lot, her friends were great, and while mine had only met her briefly, Ford and the others thought she was sweet. What more was there? We got along, the sex was incredible, and we made each other laugh. Hell, I even liked her cat.
Yup, this weekend I had to show her there was more to us than Danny and Sandy.
The one thing I learned about Bri fairly quickly was that she didn’t sleep well. She tossed and turned a lot, woke up regularly, and was up early no matter what time we went to bed. On Sunday morning, I turned over at nine and of course the bed was cold. Geez, we were never going to have morning sex at this rate, and I dragged myself out of bed to find her. I didn’t think she’d left this time—she’d promised she wouldn’t do that anymore—but it seemed dumb for her to be in the living room watching TV or on her phone or something instead of being in bed with me.
Of course, I found her in the kitchen. I’d never seen so many ingredients, pots, pans, and utensils out at one time and I stood in the doorway scratching my head as I gaped at her.
“Good morning.” Damn, her smile was like fucking sunshine.
“Good morning. What are you doing?” I asked in confusion.
“Cooking?”
“You’d rather cook than make love?”
She cocked her head thoughtfully. “Honestly? It’s a crapshoot.”
“Then obviously I’ve been doing it wrong.”
Her cheeks flushed pink as she shook her head. “You don’t understand…your kitchen is a dream for someone like me. The sex is fantastic, and I’d be happy to spend my whole life alternating between making love with you and cooking for you. But when I can’t sleep, I cook.”
She looked adorable standing there in one of my oversized T-shirts, which seemed to be her favorite thing to sleep in. She was uncomfortable sleeping nude with Ford in the house, even though we kept the bedroom door locked, and I wasn’t going to push it since we spent plenty of time together naked. So she commandeered one of my Pretty Harts T-shirts and I’d told her she could have it. This morning, with her hair up in a messy ponytail, no makeup, and her feet bare, she was the most beautiful thing in my house and I told her so.
“You just want to get laid,” she said, flushing even more.
“I do,” I agreed. “But it’s partly because you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever had the pleasure of making love with.”
“Why do you always say things like that?” she demanded, shaking her head, though there was a faint smile on her lips.
“Because it’s true? There’s different kinds of beauty, babe. There’s supermodel beauty. Yes, I’ve been with a few. But they obviously didn’t have inner beauty to go with the outer beauty. There’s beauty based on sex appeal, like I’ve found with groupies and all that, but in those cases, that’s all it was. And then there’s all-around beauty. The kind where what’s on the inside matches what’s on the outside, and brings it all together. That’s what you have. For me anyway. And that’s all that matters. You might not be the most beautiful woman Ford has ever seen, but he’s not the one looking at you—I am.”
She walked over to me slowly, gazing up into my face. My hands instinctively went to her hips, pulling her closer.
“You surprise me every damn day,” she whispered. “I keep thinking I have a handle on who you are, but I don’t. You’re so much more than I envisioned.”
“Well, thank you.” I smiled, lightly pressing my lips to hers.
“I’d say let’s go back to bed, but then my crepes will be shit and I won’t be able to show off my skills.”
“We’re having crepes?” I peered over at the island where she’d set everything up.
“Uh huh.”
“What kind?”
“Two kinds of savory, two kinds of sweet.”