Isaac
“Is it morning already?” she mumbles from beside me.
I wrap my arms tight around her. “Yeah.” The light streaming through the blinds lets me know it’s later in the morning, but at least we got to sleep in some. Snuggling back down under the covers, I pull Camryn closer against me and bury my face in her hair, smiling. The past two months have been wonderful. I never knew I could be so content spending each night with the same woman. All the fears I had have dissipated like fog. All I know is my heart is telling me this is the woman meant for me. Her laugh, her smile—they just get to me. All I want to do is make her happy.
“I don't want to get up.” As soon as the words are out, her stomach grumbles. She makes a little moan as she tries to bury herself between me and the mattress.
“I think your stomach disagrees,” I laugh. All I get is a muffled response as she buries her head in the pillow. Getting out of bed, I do my best not to disturb her and make my way to the bathroom. After finishing up, I snag my phone off the bedside table as I head to the kitchen. Scrolling through my contacts, I hit the call button when I reach Mom's number.
After the second ring, her southern drawl pours out of my speaker.
“Good morning, honey. What are you doing calling me this early?” My mother’s voice is always a comfort.
“Morning, Mama. Um, how do you make French toast?”
“French toast? You're cooking?” She laughs.
“I'm going to try,” I mumble.
“Is this for a girl? Are you trying to impress her?”
“Yes, ma'am,” I reply, the grin in my voice apparent when my mother speaks again.
"Holy shit, Isaac Davis, are you kidding me!" she shouts through the phone, disbelieving.
"No."
"Are you serious about this girl?" Her tone is wary and hopeful at the same time.
"Yes." I take a deep breath. "I think she's the one, Mom." The silence becomes deafening as she remains silent. "Mom? Mom? Are you crying?" I ask as she sniffles through the phone.
"Oh goodness, Isaac. It's just…I was beginning to think you'd never get serious about someone again," she states, her voice watery. "All I’ve ever wanted is for you boys to be happy. After what happened with—"
"That's in past. Let's not bring it up," I say, cutting her off before she can mention her name. I don't want to ruin the happy place I'm in now.
"You're right. The past needs to stay in the past. So, French toast, huh? Please tell me you're at her place."
"Yes, that's where I'm at."
"Thank God. Maybe you won't have to run to the store. Here's what you need."
After burning the first two slices, I finally got the hang of browning the French toast just right. Carrying the tray to the bedroom, I see her sitting up with a stretch. The sun lights her tousled hair like a fiery nimbus. When her brown eyes light upon me, they widen in shock.
“You made me breakfast?” she asks with disbelief.
"I hope you like French toast." I smile.
"One of my favorites. How did you know?" she asks, one brow arched.
"I didn't. It was just a guess."
"I think I'm still in shock that you cooked." She settles back against the pillows as I place the tray over her lap. When she spots the steaming cup of coffee, her eyes go soft and dreamy.
"I'm not sure I like you looking at coffee that way."
"What way?" she asks, picking up the blue ceramic mug. After inhaling deeply, she takes a sip. A soft moan passes her lips, and my dick twitches in my shorts.
“If you don’t want me to throw that tray on the floor and jump you, keep the orgasmic sounds to a minimum.”
“Huh?” She looks at me, befuddled.
“The coffee, Red. I’m the only one who should be making you make those sounds.” A blush lights her face. She has no idea what she does to me.
“What do you have planned for today?” she asks as she cuts into a piece of the toast and mops up the syrup on her plate.
“Keith and I are going to get some tracks laid out. You staying home or going out?” I ask over my shoulder as I head into the bathroom, leaving the door open as I start the shower.
“I’m meeting Kristen and Mallory at the movies, then heading to the grocery store.”
“If Keith and I are done, I’ll go to the store with you.”
“Omfkay.”
“Huh?” I ask, sticking my head out the door to see he cheeks puffed up like a chipmunk, a drop of syrup clinging to her lower lip. “Why don’t you finish eating while I take a shower? We’ll talk then.” I chuckle, and she nods.
After finishing up in the bathroom, I walk back into the bedroom to find it empty. Slipping on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, I walk out of the room to find her standing in the doorway to the kitchen wearing my shirt, her long legs bare. I walk up behind her, wrap my arms around her waist and place a kiss on the side of her neck. Normally, I get a little sigh or she leans her head back for more, but she’s like a statue. When I look into the kitchen, I curse a little under my breath.
“I’ll clean it up, Red. Don’t worry,” I say, looking around the bio-hazard I created in her kitchen. “Go get ready and I’ll have the kitchen back good as new.”
“But…what happened?” she asks, dazed as she surveys the disaster.
I make my way to her front and take the tray from her hands, breaking her stare from the mess I made. Gently, I turn her around and give her butt a smack. “Go get ready, babe.” Her footsteps are muffled as she walks across the carpet. Turning around, I interlace my fingers on top of my head, surveying the damage. “Where the hell do I start?”
“Dude, where the hell have you been?” Keith hollers as soon as I put my car in park and open my door.
“Sorry, man. Had something I had to finish before I left.” I run my hand along the back of my neck.
“I know that look,” Keith laughs out. “I get the same one every time I have to do something for Sarah. What honey-do were you roped into?”
“I wasn’t roped into anything. I made Camryn breakfast this morning.”
“Impressive,” he cuts in, and I give him the side eye.
“And I pretty much destroyed the kitchen in the process.”
“Ouch,” Keith says with a wince. “Say no more. I understand. Let’s get in there and get these tracks laid out.”
Sitting on the stools, we warm up our guitars.
“How many songs have you written now?” I ask, strumming through the chords, the strings a familiar comfort.
“Eight now. I have a guy in Nashville who may be interested in one of the ones we’re recording today.”
“Which one?”
“Is Love Enough,” he says, tuning his guitar.
“That is a kick ass song, man. It’ll be a chart climber for whoever records it. If it were heavier, I’d steal it for us,” I reply with a chuckle.
“I think a couple of the new ones I’ve come up with may fit you guys.”
I look over at him, surprised. “Really? That’s great. I can run them by the guys tomorrow if you’re ready. We’re going to start working on a new album and we’re gathering song ideas.”
“You guys ready?” Mac asks from inside the sound booth.
Glancing over at Keith, he gives me a nod. “Yeah. All set.”
As he starts the recording process, Keith and I fall into an easy rhythm. Our voices are harmonious as we sing the lyrics, chords in time with each other and tempo on point. After three hours, Mac gives us the thumbs up. The songs are perfect.
“You two sounded great,” Mac’s voice floats through the speakers. “You should record these as a duo. Chart toppers, I’m telling ya.”
“I agree. You two were in perfect harmony.” Brian’s voice startles me as he walks into the room. Brian Jefferies, our band manager, the man who put us on the map after hearing us sing one night in Jake’s uncle’s bar.
“Hey, Brian. Didn’t know you were going to be around today,” I say as we clasp hands.
“Just thought I’d drop in and see what’s going on when I saw your ride out front. Brian Jefferies,” he introduces himself to Keith before I get the chance.
“Keith Sterling.”
“Keith and I go way back. We went to high school together.”
“Yeah, we reconnected a few months ago at a bar my band was playing at.”
“What your band’s name?” Brian asks.
“Southern Drawl,” he replies.
“Oh, that’s the band shirt you were wearing on tour, right, Isaac?”
“Sure was. Thought I’d get his name out there even though it’s not our sound.”
“What do you play?” Brian asks Keith, and I can’t help but smile.
“Country mainly. I like southern rock, but our lead singer isn’t buying into it.”
“You’re not the lead singer?” Brian asks, his eyes wide, and I’m not surprised. Keith’s voice is solid and smooth.
“Nah, lead guitar. I write a lot of our songs, though. That’s what Isaac and I were doing today. Recording some demos.” He nods toward me.
“He has a couple songs he thinks we may like, Brian. I told him we could run them by the guys tomorrow. See how they feel about them.”
“Hmmm,” Brian hums out, running his hand across his chin. “Keith, make sure you drop by tomorrow with the songs. Is your band local?”
“A couple of us are. The drummer, bass player, and back-up singer live near Waco.”
“When’s your next show?”
“We have a weekend gig at the Whiskey Saloon in Fort Worth for the next two months.”
“I’ll make a point to come see you play a set. Do you have a manager?”
“No. Kellen manages everything for us.” The dopey smile on Keith’s face makes me laugh.
“And Kellen is?”
“Our singer. He does our bookings and such.”
“Good. I’ll leave you gentleman to it.” Brian shakes both our hands. “See you bright and early in the morning,” he calls over his shoulder as he leaves the room. Keith plops down on the stool, letting out a huge sigh.
“Did I really just meet Brian motherfucking Jefferies?” Keith asks, his voice filled with awe.
“Yeah. Brian’s a good guy. Don’t let the reputation fool you.”
“Did he really say he’s going to catch our act, or was that just a figment of my imagination?”
“He said it, my friend.” I laugh out loud.
“Holy shit.”
“Come on, man. Let’s get something to eat and then head home.” I clap him on the back before putting my guitar back on the stand.
“Red, you ready to head to the store?” I holler, walking through the front door. Bags laid out on the floor catch my eye, and I saunter into the kitchen, finding her reaching up to place something on the top shelf. The long, dark green blouse she’s wearing rises, and my eyes lock onto the way her tight jeans cup her lush ass.
“Well…I saw we may get some rain later and I wanted to go ahead and get it done before it hit.”
Tiptoeing up behind her, I palm her ass before wrapping my arms around her waist and pulling her back against me. Her startled shriek makes me laugh, but then she melts against me, and my heart sings.
“Geez, you’re quiet when you want to be,” she giggles out. Placing a kiss on the side of her neck, I grab a bag and start to unload it onto the counter. When I reach the steaks, my mouth starts to water.
“We having steaks tonight?” I ask, my gaze not wavering from the cellophane wrapped package.
“I thought you might like to grill out, but since it’s going to rain, we may have to wait until later in the week.” She glances out the window, eyeing the dark clouds in the distance.
“Well, if you’re getting hungry, we can go ahead and light the grill. Hopefully we can beat the weather.”
“Sure, I’ll get the potatoes in the oven.”
She starts digging through another bag, and I head out to get the grill fired up. After a few minutes, I walk back into the house. The steaks are now sitting on a plate, seasoned and ready to go. The mixing bowl sitting in the sink has remnants of white, fluffy whipped cream, and I peer into the oven, only to find it empty.
“Strawberry shortcake.” Her voice comes from behind me, and I jump. Spinning around, she’s bent over laughing.
“Apparently, I’m not the only one who can be sneaky,” I say, reaching over and drawing her to me, tickling her sides.
“Uncle, uncle!” she cries out as tears roll down her face.
“I started a fire outside. Why don’t we sit out there while I cook the steaks?” I pick up the steaks and walk toward the door.
“That sounds good. Want wine or a beer?”
“A beer would be great,” I throw over my shoulder as I clear the threshold.
Drinks in hand, she sits on the outdoor loveseat and curls her legs under her as I arrange the meat on the hot grate. Leaving the top open, I sit beside her, the wicker groaning precariously. As soon as she snuggles into my side, she hands me a beer. The crackling of the fire is the only sound in the quiet neighborhood. The aroma of burning wood and cooking meat fill the air around us.
“I could get used to this,” I mutter before taking a swallow of the cold, bitter brew.
“What’s that?” she murmurs
“Sitting out here. You beside me. The quiet of the night surrounding us.” Children’s laughter breaks through from the wooden fence to our left, and I chuckle.
“So much for quiet.” She chuckles before taking a sip of wine.
I smile as the laughter continues. “It’s not bad. Sooner or later, that’ll end up happening too.”
“What?” She glances up at me, eyes wide.
“Kids. Running around, laughing, having fun.”
“You want kids?”
“Sure. Eventually.”
“Kids are a big commitment. And you travel a lot. That’s a big burden to put on the mother of your child.”
“That’s why I said eventually. When we’re ready, I plan on cutting back, so I can spend more time at home. I think the guys feel the same way. We’ve already started decreasing the amount of tours we’re doing now that we have women in our lives.” When she doesn’t say a word, I nudge her, so I can stand up. Walking over to the grill, I flip the steaks as she stares into the flames, a pensive look on her face. “What are you thinking about?”
“Huh? Oh, nothing. I need to go get the potatoes ready. The steaks are ready, right?” she asks before rushing into the house. My brows furrow as I watch her through the window, wondering what caused her shift in mood. She stops at the counter and downs the rest of her wine in a big gulp before looking around the space. I consider going to her, trying to figure out what happened, but then shrug it off. When she’s ready, she’ll come to me…right?
After dinner, we sit out on the back porch next to the fire watching the rain fall. Camryn was quiet during our meal. Now she’s sitting on her end, knees drawn to her chest with her arms crossed over the top as she stares out into the backyard, her mind a million miles away. How the hell do I get her out of this funk? Grabbing my phone, I pull up the Spotify app and type the song into the search engine. Hitting play, I stand up and hold out my hand to her. As the opening chords of Stellar Revival’s “Saving Grace” start, I pull her up and out into the yard. Wrapping her in my arms, her head tucked under my chin and arms trapped between us, we begin to step together, not really dancing but just holding each other, the rain drenching our hair and clothes. Leaning down, I softly sing, pouring all the emotion I feel for her into the words. Staring into her shining eyes, tears mingle with the raindrops down her face. Her heart is right there on the surface. I caress her soft lips with mine, letting everything bleed into the kiss. Her arms wrap around my shoulders as our bodies communicate everything we haven’t said.