I decide to ask Riley. Is he mad at me?
No, I think he’s more sad than anything. Sad that he’s here without you—that you’re not his anymore. He’s probably afraid you’re moving on without him.
He probably is. He probably thinks I never told him I loved him because I don’t love him. He probably figures I was using him for sex or company. What if he’s heartbroken because he loves me but thinks I don’t love him? When I see him, I’m going to tell him I love him. It’s time to let those words out. It’s time to let him know how I feel.
Riley continues. If you sent him tickets, there’s no doubt in my mind that he’s going. He can’t stand the thought of living without you, Luna. And we’re all here backing him up. We love you too, you know. You two fit in perfectly with our family.
Thanks. That means more than you know. And when you’re ready to rock again, just say the word. You’ll have tickets and backstage passes mailed out that day.
Squeeeee! Can’t wait. Take care and don’t be a stranger.
Same.
I drop my phone onto the bed at my side and imagine how the night of the upcoming concert might look. I can see myself on stage, playing the guitar, and singing directly in front of him. I can picture that heated gaze of his watching me. I see the moment I stop the show and profess my undying love for him—pulling him up on stage and kissing him like I’ve been dying to for so long now.
But on the other hand, I can see myself taking the stage, looking at his empty seat, and never getting to say the words that are eating me up inside—the ones that are dying to come out. For the first time in a long while, I pray. I pray that he comes back to me, that he lets go of our weird past, and that he knows I love him as much as he loves me. I pray that he comes and listens to every word I have to say. I pray that he loves me and wants to be with me. I pray that we get our happy ending once and for all.
Eighteen
Daniel
I get home from work and walk into my building, stopping at the mailboxes before hitting the elevator. I pull out the stack of envelopes and stuff them under my arm as I make my way to the elevator and ride it up. I start looking through the stack, but get distracted by the new Jeep catalog folded in half.
When I walk into my apartment, I toss down the stack and take the catalog to the couch with me. I look it over, thinking about trading in my car for a new Jeep, then decide it would be a stupid move as long as I’m living in the city. I throw the catalog into the recycling bin and move to my bedroom to change into some gym clothes.
After working out for the next two hours, I’m back home and ready to shower and eat. I finish up with both tasks around 9 p.m., and I’m so tired that I’m falling asleep on the couch. My phone rings and I jump awake.
“Hello?” I answer.
“Hey, you weren’t asleep, were you?” Calvin asks.
“No, I was just nodding off a bit while watching TV. What’s up?”
“I mailed you some client information for your meeting tomorrow. Just wanted to make sure you got it.”
“Oh.” That’s when I remember that I never finished going through the stack today. “Let me check.” I force myself to get up and grab the pile, bringing it back to the couch with me. I drop it all onto the table as I sort through it.
“How’s Matt working out?” Calvin asks as I sort through the pile.
“Electric bill. Water bill. Credit card bill. Bank statement. Oh, here it is.” I pick it up and notice the last envelope beneath it. There isn’t a return address, but I know from the handwriting that it’s from Luna.
“Uh, um,” I try to gather my thoughts after seeing her name on the envelope. “Matthew. He doesn’t like Matt. He’s good—crazy good, actually. Pretty sure he’s got it bad for his assistant who hates his guts, so that’s amusing.”
“Yeah? That has to be funny to watch, as long as they don’t have an all-out war and burn the office down,” he chuckles. “Well, thanks for confirming you got the files. Now I can go to sleep.”
“All right, talk to ya later.” I drop the phone and pick up the envelope with her handwriting. She’s written my name and address across the front in pink ink. I lift it to my nose and can smell her perfume on it. I breathe it in deeply as my eyes flutter closed. Memories of the last time she was in my arms flood my senses.
I pull the envelope back and study it some more. Opening this is like opening Pandora’s box. Who knows what’s inside? I could easily open it and see, but once I do, there’s no going back. What if it’s bad news? She’d call me with good news, wouldn’t she? It could be something to do with the band, and that’s why it was formally mailed. I am their lawyer, after all. With a long sigh, I bite the bullet and open it. There’s a piece of paper inside and I pull it out, unfolding the top portion. It reads: Please come.
I unfold the bottom half to find a ticket for a nearby show. The show is next week and it’s a front-row seat. I wonder why she wants me to come to the show. Does she want to get back together? Is this some kind of olive branch? Or does she just want me there to have a pre-show quickie like before? I shake my head and drop everything on the table as I head to bed.
But sleep doesn’t find me easily or quickly. I’m too concerned with what that ticket could mean. Our whole relationship has been a tug of war. We knew we shouldn’t start something, but we couldn’t stay away from each other. Even now, when she’s God-knows-where in the world, I’m still having to restrain myself from going and finding her and making sure she knows she’s mine. How am I ever supposed to get over her if she won’t let me go? She said she was releasing me, and I’ve been miserable the whole time. I guess there’s only one way to put this to rest. If I go to the show and she wants nothing to do with me, then we’re done and that’s all the closure I’ll need. I’ll force myself to forget her if that’s what it takes.
As busy as I keep myself, time passes by quickly, but it also moves unusually slowly since I have something to kind of look forward to. I don’t know how things will go, but I can’t wait to find out for sure. I make the drive to the concert a few towns over and traffic is horrible—inside the city and out. It’s like everyone in the area is going to the same place. By the time I make it inside the venue, the concert has already started and I feel like an ass for not arriving earlier. What if she wanted to talk before the show? I wasn’t here and now she probably thinks I’m not coming at all. But I guess one more surprise can’t hurt.
I grab a beer and make my way to my seat. Everyone in the place is up out of their seats—screaming, singing along, and jumping up and down. I get to the first row and have to squeeze through people to find my seat. I look up at her on stage but she hasn’t seen me yet since she’s off to the side, giving the other half of the room the attention they deserve.
Slowly, she makes her way back to the center of the stage and her head goes down, watching as her fingers quickly slide over the strings of her guitar. She looks up and her eyes lock on mine. She’s absolutely beautiful up there. She’s dripping with sweat and her white tank top is soaked, clinging to her body and black bra. Her black skirt is short, showing off her sexy legs, and she’s wearing her favorite black combat boots. Her hair is completely black now—no purple or green—and she’s breathtaking with her red lips and darkly-lined eyes. She offers the smallest of smiles but can’t exactly stop her performance to greet me. The show must go on.