Wes

I want to be honest with Jemma. But how do you tell someone that Sophie is better off without our mother in her life? Sure, it took her a while to bounce back after mom died. But now, she’s happier and more…content than she’s ever been. I don’t want to sound cold or callous. Really, I’m struggling with the part of me that wants to impress her. If I had known the strong way I’d react to her presence, I would never have hired her. Still, it’s a relief to think about someone besides Autumn. No, I can’t have her either, but at least she’s not married to my best friend. Somehow, I need to put all that aside and just tell her the truth.

Jemma walks slightly ahead of me along the damp garden path. She bends down to get a closer look at some of the new shoots emerging from the ground. Having her focused on something else makes it easier to begin.

“Sophie hasn’t had an easy childhood. Our parents weren’t…around much. And when they were around, it was often worse than when they weren’t. Growing up, Finn and I spent a lot of time caring for her, which might sound good in theory, but teenage boys don’t really make the best parents.” Jemma stands and gives me her full attention and I have to look away before I can continue. “When the band became successful and we had to start touring…Sophie got left with our mother. Our father was gone by then…and Sophie was pretty much left to look after herself.” Jemma puts her hand on my arm. I close my eyes and breathe in deeply. “I guess in a way it was lucky that the band became as successful as quickly as it did. I was at least able to send money and make sure she had enough for food and clothes…” I rub my eyes as emotion floats to the surface. “I should have been there for her…”

“Wes, you did the best you could in the midst of difficult circumstances. Sophie seems like a bright, lovely young lady. If you hadn’t gone with the band, you’d probably be stuck in some dead-end job working long hours just trying to support the two of you. And how would that be better?”

A pained laugh escapes me. “Ah, that’s what being a parent’s all about. You beat yourself up about what you should’ve done. I don’t think I’m ever going to go down that road again.”

“You mean you don’t want kids of your own one day?” Jemma’s blue eyes are so sad looking that I want to tell her that yes, of course, I want kids of my own someday. But I can’t. I don’t want to be responsible for anyone like that ever again. I want Sophie to be just my sister, someone I can turn to for support. Not someone I have to make decisions for. How do I know what’s best for her? I just hope I don’t screw it all up.

“I just…I can’t.”

“Hey,” Jemma smiles brightly, “You have your whole life ahead of you. At least you know what you want to do with your life.”

“Me? I just kind of fell into the whole music thing. I’m not sure it’s what I want to spend the rest of my life doing. That’s Finn. He lives and breathes music. It would kill him to have to give it up.”

“I know what you mean, Wes. People assume just because I’m working on my masters in linguistic anthropology, that it’s what I want to spend my whole life doing… But that’s not it at all. Some days I wonder what I’m doing…how I got here.”

“Well at least you’re so smart, you could do anything.”

“Hardly. I’m going to have to spend the next fifteen years paying off my student loans. Even if I want to do something else, I won’t be able to afford it.”

I wish I could just tell her that life’s too short, that I’d happily pay off her loans. Only I realize she’d never take me up on the offer. And even if she did, then she’d feel like she owes me some huge debt and that’s the last thing I want. “Well, I’m sure you’ll be amazing at linguistic whatsit.” I inwardly cringe at the meaningless platitude. Heck, I couldn’t even get the name of her degree right.

“So what would you do if you gave up the music?”

“I have no idea. Maybe design gardens for people.”

Jemma looks around at the sprawling garden bright with color. “Did you design this garden?”

“Yes.”

“Wow. You’d should consider landscape design. I love what you’ve done here. You could do that, you know?”

I sigh. “Maybe one day. When everyone’s forgotten who I am. If I tried to do that now, people would probably just hire me to gawp or ask me when I was going back to my real job.”

“Ah, the tough life of a rock ’n’ roll idol.” Jemma laughs.

I feign a frown. “Are you laughing at me, Jemma Bowman?”

“Oh, we’re married now? I didn’t realize that was part of the job description.”

I’m so glad I don’t tend to blush anymore because I’m sure I would be some shade of fire engine red right now if I were. “You must think I’m the world’s biggest idiot right now…”

“Oh no, believe me, I’ve said worse.” Jemma holds one arm across her stomach as if she’s trying to contain her mirth.

“Oh well, at least you won’t have any delusions that I’m cool or anything.”

“No, you’re actually really nice.”

“Mmm, the nice card. Now I really want to go off quietly somewhere and die.”

“I totally didn’t mean it like that. I’m just trying to say I’m glad you’re normal and not some stuck-up drama queen.”

I raise my eyebrows. “You thought I’d be a self-centered drama queen? Wow, you really have a great opinion of people in my profession, don’t you?”

Jemma’s cheeks flush. “Now we’re even. Perhaps we shouldn’t talk anymore?”

We walk through the garden not speaking. And it’s the best I’ve felt in a long time.

Jemma

Am I ready for the band to go on tour and leave me in charge? No, I am not. What was I thinking? But it’s too late to back out now. The car will be here any minute to take Wes to the airport. Shoot, do I hug him goodbye? Shake his hand? Kiss him passionately…in my dreams maybe.

I rub my palms on the back of my jeans and jog down the staircase. Stopping at the bottom step, I see Wes and Sophie have their arms wrapped around each other in the middle of the room. I feel like I’m intruding on a private moment.

“You’ll be alright here with Jemma?” Wes takes a step back, breaking the contact.

“Of course…Darn, if I’d said no, would you have taken me with you?” Sophie’s cheeky grin allows me to feel comfortable joining them.

“Sure, we’ll be fine, won’t we, Soph?” I say.

“Yeah, at least Jemma can take me bra shopping.”

Wes’s mouth opens but no sound comes out. I feel sorry for him and decide to come to his aid. “Don’t worry. Everything will be just fine.”

“Of course. And I’ll call you every day, Soph. You’ll probably be sick of the sound of my voice before the tour’s over.”

Sophie grins. “Like now you mean?”

“I swear you get cheekier every day. How did a sister of mine ever get so cheeky?”

“I really don’t think you want me to answer that, brother dear.”

“No, probably not.” Wes turns to me. “Call me anytime. About anything, alright?”

“I will. You don’t have to worry. Nothing will go wrong.”

Simon, who works with the band and who I met yesterday, comes in and picks up both of Wes’s bags. “Hey, guys! Ready to hit the road, Wes?”

“Sure thing. Well, bye guys.” He gives Sophie another quick hug and then turns to me and puts both arms around me and pats my back briefly before stepping back. Definitely a friendship kind of a hug. I can’t help but notice how amazing he smells. Like cinnamon and pine and something else I can’t define. I want to pull him close and breathe in deeply, but I need to remember he’s my boss.

Wes picks up the old guitar he likes to travel with, and we follow him out to the van. He climbs in the back and before I can quite believe it, he’s gone. The tail lights disappear as the gates slide closed.

It’s well after two in the morning, but I’m still tossing and turning in the large bed. My arm aches but that’s not why I can’t sleep. My mind is consumed with thoughts of Wes. How cliché The poor little nanny who can’t get the hot rock star out of her mind. I’ve never been one to have celebrity crushes. Even in high school that sort of thing didn’t interest me. My mind returns to the music room where I first heard him playing that beautiful melody. That was where the problems all started. It’s the music I can’t get out of my head. Not the man, just the music.

I slip my earbuds into my ears and flick through the music on my phone. If I can find something even half as compelling, I can get this out of my head and get back to reality.

“Jemma! Wake up. It’s after 8 o’clock. I’m going to be late for school.”

My eyes struggle to open. The room is too bright. Sophie’s words finally permeate my sleepy haze. I throw the covers back and push myself up out of the bed.

“Oh crap! I don’t think my alarm went off.” At least she’s dressed. “Have you had breakfast?”

“Not yet. I’ll grab something while you get dressed.”

I throw off the T-shirt I slept in, not bothering to close the door now that there are only girls in the house. Yesterday’s jeans and T-shirt will have to do for now. After slipping my feet into a pair of flats, I rush down the stairs at the same time as Sophie returns from the kitchen holding a piece of toast.

“I can’t believe we’re going to be late. We don’t have to tell your brother about this do we?”

“Course not. Besides, it’s not your fault that Leon and Stan were both busy today. School drop off and pick up is supposed to be their job anyway. Wes’ll go ballistic when he finds out they dumped you in the shi—poop.”

Darting to the hall stand, I open the drawer and stare at the multiple sets of keys. “Um, Sophie, which car are we supposed to take?”

Sophie grins as she reaches past me and grabs a set with some fancy symbol on them.

“Um, Sophie, what car are those for?”

She closes her hand around them before rushing through the internal door to the garage. “Come on Jemma, you don’t want to make me any later, do you?”

Hurrying after her, I see the lights of the red Porsche flash on. My feet stop moving. I can’t drive that. It must be worth hundreds of thousands of dollars. Oblivious to my dilemma, Sophie throws the passenger door open and drops her bag on the back seat before getting in. Shoot. I’m going to have to do this or risk not getting Sophie to school on time. Either way, I could be fired before the day is out.

My feet start moving again, and I gently coax the door open. I’m not that into cars, but the inside of the Porsche is like something out of another world. Black leather seems to mold to every surface. I hope my jeans aren’t stained as I gingerly slip into the firm seat.

Sophie tosses me the keys and I barely manage to catch them in my slippery fingers.

“You can drive a stick shift can’t you?” Her expression is overly sweet.

If I’m going to do this, I need to pretend I’m more confident than I feel. “Sure thing. I can drive pretty much anything.”

“Awesome let’s go. I’ll direct you.”

“To the school?” I say wryly.

“Sure, why not?”

We both laugh, and I relax slightly. Sophie opens the garage door and I start the engine. I find reverse and ease my foot off the clutch. The car shoots backward out of the garage and I turn it quickly until I’m facing the right way on the drive.

“Wow, you really can drive.”

I smile, glad at least one of us believes I can do this. Sophie opens the gates with the remote control. I drive forward, and I’m glad this street is fairly quiet. I pull into the morning traffic. I follow the flow of traffic as I get a feel for the car.

As we pull into the school parking lot, I actually start to enjoy myself. The car is amazing and if I ever get a decent job I’m saving up for one myself. So maybe by the time I’m sixty, I might be able to afford an older one…

“Bye, Jemma, see you at home after school. Come pick me up early if you get bored.” Sophie closes the door not waiting for a response. I think we both know that’s not going to happen.

As I turn towards my new home, I’m compelled by a sudden impulse to head for the highway and see just what this car is capable of. Turning up the music, I put my foot down on the accelerator and head toward my first day of freedom. Freedom from my financial woes and freedom from the pain and heartache of my old life, and the terrible thing that happened to me.