The ride to the airport is a blur. I use my phone to pull up the article and continue reading. I also find more, related articles and consume it all before boarding the plane.
Jared stands, striding toward me the second I’m on board.
“Eva.” He wraps me in his arms. “You smell so good.” He buries his nose into the top of my head, and my stomach flips, butterflies coming to life.
“This plane is awesome.”
“Yeah, it isn’t too shabby.”
We sit side by side in big, comfy leather seats that swivel. The takeoff is smooth, and once we’re in the air, I turn to face him.
“How was lunch with Silas and the gang? I’m sorry I had to leave.”
“It was good. Would have been better if you’d stayed. We missed you. How did it go with Bianca and the others?” A wary expression clouds his features, like he wants to say more.
“Difficult, but fine. Nothing I can’t handle.” I push down any irritation. “I don’t want to talk about them. I’ve got a confession to make.”
His dark brows arch with interest. “What did you do?”
“Something not too smart.” I take his hand and he inches his upper body forward, studying me.
“Go on.” Trepidation pours off him.
“I looked Trojan up on the Internet. Well, more like you.”
“Shit.” His fingers slice through his thick hair.
“Yes, and as I’m sure you know, some of it wasn’t too pretty. I thought I was prepared for it, but I guess not.”
“Eva, I don’t want you looking at that. I’m sorry—”
“No. Don’t be sorry for your past. You thought I was dead. We did things that we had every right to do without knowledge of the other. We were living our own lives.”
“Really.” Mischief plays in those amber eyes. “What did you do that I should know about?”
“That isn’t the point I’m trying to make.” I squeeze his hand. “What I’m trying to say is, we don’t need to tell each other every single, nitty-gritty detail.”
“What if I want to know every detail?” He knits his brow and his voice drops, more somber to match his expression.
“Well, I’ll tell you…if you ask.”
“Okay.” He relaxes, somewhat relieved by my response. “But this isn’t my turn. I interrupted. You were going somewhere with this.”
“Yes. The pictures and women aside,”—he grimaces and I force a smile, still remembering some of the images weren’t for the faint of heart—”I came across an article, actually several, about one of Trojan’s more successful albums.”
“Okay.”
“The one entitled Eva.”
A small melancholy smile draws at the corners of his mouth. “Yeah, that was mine. I wrote ten of the twelve songs. It was the early days of Trojan and I was still working through a lot of shit.”
“I just…I don’t know what to say. I want to buy it. I didn’t have a chance to before I had to leave.”
“You want to listen to it?” I nod and he gets out his phone. “I’ve got it. You can listen now if you want. I’ve got some work to do. A few songs I’m working on.”
“Yes, please.” I bounce in my seat, thrilled to have the chance. “I want to hear ‘Forget Me Not’ first.”
He blushes, handing me earbuds, and then gets to work. I sink into the chair, completely blown away by the album chronicling not only our years together but also his time alone.
I pass the time listening to the album and sleeping. The music finds me in my slumber, and some of the songs are dark, loud, and angry. Violent feelings of loss and sorrow, and while not my kind of music, I understand it.
The lyrics evoke so many emotions, speaking to me on a visceral level. And there are a couple of ballads that bring me to tears. I can’t express it in words.
His creation somehow brings me closer to him. I have a better understanding of what he went through all the years we weren’t together.
We arrive in New York in the early hours of the morning and check into the hotel. The record label booked a suite with two bedrooms. While Jared showers—his meeting is in an hour—he urges me to take a nap, and I sleep.
By the time he returns, I’m ready and we head out. He’d planned the day filled with things tourists do. We visit the Statue of Liberty and the Empire State Building, and close to early evening, we end the day in Central Park with a horse and carriage ride.
I’m exhausted and also exhilarated from a fun-filled day. We hardly spent any time talking about the past and instead concentrated on enjoying now.
“You ready for a party?” After his meeting, he did mention a function he had to attend tonight.
“Really, you’re going to a party?” I follow him into our suite.
“No, we’re going.” He removes his jacket and then his shirt, now prancing around shirtless.
At six feet, three inches tall, a full foot more than me, Jared cuts an impressive figure, and my stupid heart skitters. It’s as if I’m in high school all over again and unable to tear my gaze from him. I force myself to stare into his deep, amber eyes.
“I’m just tired.” I rub at my temples, a headache coming on. “Do I have to go?”
He stops midstride to the bathroom, peering over his shoulder to look at me. “I have to go—it’s all part of my career. I promise we won’t stay long, just so I can make an appearance. I’d like you there, but if you don’t want to go, I understand.”
The desire to please him, make him happy, overrides the mounting tension in the back of my neck and skull. “Okay, but I need about twenty minutes to relax.”
“Of course.” He steps in front of me, and his incredibly sculpted body fills my vision. “We don’t have to leave for another hour or so. It’s early for these kinds of things, but it doesn’t matter. Just as long as I show my face. Then we’ll come back and chill.”
I nod, still mesmerized by him. His body is honed and defined. The corded muscles in his arms are smooth and extended, stretching across his broad shoulders, joining his wide and impressive chest.
His waist tapers into a V, and the muscles on the sides…it’s called the Adonis belt and I suddenly understand why. He’s a god. Glorious.
“Eva, if you keep looking at me like that, we aren’t going anywhere.” His words are filled with laughter.
Heat rises up my neck, and I avert my gaze, guilty for ogling him. “Go shower.”
Later, I hear him exit the bathroom, and I stay lying on the bed, finishing my deep breathing exercises. When I finally bring myself out of my meditation, he’s perched on the edge of the mattress, staring intently at me.
“I thought you were sleeping at first.” His hand lightly rubs the top of my foot and ankle. “But that didn’t seem right. I could sense your awareness, if that makes any sense. You were so still. So peaceful just lying there.”
“I was meditating. Using my breath to center myself and eliminate the tension in my body.” Smiling, I slide closer to him, my feet now dangling off the side of the bed. “Today was a lot of fun but also hectic. Since the accident, I can get fatigued after doing a lot, I suppose like most people can. But sometimes it can bring on a headache that turns into a migraine that will knock me off my feet for days. So this is one of the techniques I mentioned that helps.”