No Tomorrow

I smile weakly. “Here I am.”

He turns and yells across the room. “Hey, Blue! Look who’s here.”

My heart’s no longer racing. I’m sure it’s completely stopped. Blue turns slowly to Reece, and his gaze drops to meet mine, his eyes widening with surprise and disbelief. He turns back to the two women he was talking to, then moments later turns again to cross the room.

“Ladybug....” He says the nickname so affectionately I almost burst into tears. I force myself to not let that happen. I will not be the blubbering ex in a room full of people.

Reece watches us stare at each other, downs the remainder of his beer, then playfully smacks Blue on the back.

“I’ll leave you two alone.” He nods to me. “Nice meeting you. Glad to see you’re real.”

Not taking my eyes from Blue’s, I reply to Reece absently, “Nice meeting you, too.”

Blue lets out a low breath. “Holy shit. I never expected to see you here.” A smile plays across his lips. “I’ve missed you. So fucking much.”

“I miss you, too.” My voice wavers over the words. “I never expected to find you here. Like this.”

“Yeah. It’s been a bit of a ride.” He shoves his fingers into the front of his hair and pushes it back from his face. “So how are you? How’s Acorn?”

It’s the dog’s name, that sweet, furry ball of love’s name, that finally snaps me out of this surreal, polite cloud we’re standing under. I raise my hand to slap him and he catches my wrist mid-air and yanks me tight against his chest. Holding me there, he bends his face down into my neck.

“You can slap the shit out of me, rip my heart out. Whatever you want. But not here.” His lips brush across my ear, sending shivers up my spine and over my scalp. “I don’t want your picture on every tabloid tomorrow with some nasty rumor attached to it. You’re too good for that. Okay?”

I nod against his shoulder and slowly pull away to face his dark, sorrowful eyes. I imagine mine look the same.

“How could you?” I ask, keeping my voice low. “How could you just leave me like that? And your dog? What kind of person does something like that?”

“The kind who knows he can’t be around good things without breaking them.”

I have to give him credit for his ability to admit that straight to my face with dead-on honesty.

Choking back a sob that I refuse to let out, I shake my head. “No. You don’t get to proclaim yourself an asshole and just walk away. It’s completely unacceptable and shitty.”

“You’re right.”

A rogue tear slides down my cheek. “You just left us. You took the easy way out.”

He looks at the floor for a moment, as if he’s letting the words sink in, then returns his gaze back to me. “There was nothing easy about leaving the only two things I care about.”

I want to ask him why he did it then, if it was so hard, but this isn’t what I want. For years I dreamed of this moment, and now it’s heading straight into the direction I feared it would go. A place filled with anger and accusations and no closure, resolution, or new beginning at all. How on earth am I supposed to tell him about our beautiful, smart, adorable little girl in the midst of this awkwardness?

I can’t help but notice a few people standing off to the side, stealing impatient sideways glances at us, and I realize I’m keeping him from fans who paid to spend time with him.

“I should go,” I say softly. “But I have to tell—”

His hair flings over his shoulder as he shakes his head. “Don’t go.” He reaches for my hand and pulls it into his. “Not yet, okay? Have dinner with me. We’ll talk.” Hope flashes across his face—an expression I’ve not seen on his face many times before. “I know you’re pissed off. But I don’t think you came here just to see my band, or to slap me. Right?”

I relax my tense shoulders, despite the turmoil spinning up inside me. “No. I wanted to see you and talk to you.”

“Then let’s get out of here and do that.”

Glancing around at the roomful of fans I ask, “Are you allowed to leave?”

“Of course.” He smiles devilishly. “I can do whatever I want.”

I study his expression before I answer, trying to gauge his intentions. Everything about him seems genuine. No alarm bells are ringing in my head. Nothing about him seems shady or deceitful.

And he’s still holding my hand. In a roomful of fans, bandmates, groupies, and journalists. That must count for something.

“I came with Ditra, she drove me.”

“Okay. I’ll get you home later if that’s what you’re worried about. Or she can come with us.”

“Er, I think I’d rather she not tag along. Let me find her and let her know.”

He nods. “While you do that I’m going to say hi to a few people and sign some things so everyone’s happy. Just come get me when you’re ready and we’ll take off.”

The way he squeezes my hand before he releases it reassures me that everything is okay and I’m not making a huge mistake by going off with him. Maybe there’s a way we can start over, after all. I may be jumping the gun, but if we still love each other, and if he accepts Lyric, then we could find a way to be together and make it work. People have gotten through worse circumstances and come out stronger.

It looks like Ditra gave up on her plan of hooking up with Reece because after scouring the room I find her still talking to the guy with the Mohawk. They’ve moved to a large chair in the corner and she’s perched on his lap, touching his spikey hair.

“So? How’d it go?” she asks when I approach them.

“Good, so far. I haven’t really talked to him much yet. He wants me to go have dinner and talk.”

“When?”

“Now. Tonight.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I think I’m going to go. Do you mind?”

She waves her hand at me. “Not a bit. I might be busy, anyway.” She leans her head against the guy’s head and the mother in me is petrified his hair is going to stab one of her eyes out. “How are you going to get home? Do you want me to wait around?”

“No, he says he’ll get me home.”

I ignore Mr. Mohawk’s sudden obnoxious laugh, hoping he’s just being a jerk and doesn’t have inside info about Blue having a rep for handing out I’ll get you home lines to various unsuspecting women. Ditra frowns and leans back up, straightening her shirt in the process which somehow has gotten all askew. “Are you sure? I don’t want you abandoned in Boston in the middle of the night.”

“I’ll be fine.” I hope.

“Okay, if you’re sure. I’m going to hang around for a little while, too. You go have fun, be strong, and call me!”

“I will.” I give her friend the side-eye. “You have fun, too.”

Hand-in-hand, we walk across the street to the restaurant in the hotel that Blue and the band are staying in for the weekend. We sit at a quiet table in the back that Blue thinks should hide us from concert-goers.

We don’t open our menus or ask each other what we’re having.

We don’t casually chat about the concert or the weather.

We stare at each other.

We hold hands across the table, like lovers do.

I concentrate hard to control the tremor of panic in my chest and take steady breaths. I knew it would be hard seeing him—exciting, confusing, emotional—but my body seems to have its own ideas. I have to shove away the fear and keep breathing or I’ll start to feel sick. And I want to stay present with him, no matter how many directions my body wants to run.

“You’re still wearing it.” He thumbs the beaded bracelet. It’s faded and tattered now, much like my heart.

“I told you I’d never take it off.”

That makes him smile. “I thought you would have taken it off so you wouldn’t be reminded of me every day after what happened.”

I almost laugh. I have a much bigger and better reminder of him in the form of a tiny person with his same soulful eyes.

“What did happen, Blue? I thought we were happy. We had such a nice time that night.”

“We did. It was one of the best nights of my life. Every second of us together is burned into my memory.”

I stare at our hands, at his thumb caressing my knuckles. “I don’t understand. Was it the apartment? Did it scare you? Did you think I was going to try to force you to move in? Give you an ultimatum? I wasn’t going to. I was willing to accept the way you wanted to live.”

“I know that.”

Patiently, I wait for him to give me more of an answer. I refuse to keep prodding at him and making myself appear desperate. Even though I am—I’m absolutely desperate for an explanation, something to make me understand. The air is thick between us; the silence expands like a balloon about to burst. The waitress brings us water and he asks her for a few more minutes. Our hands are still clasped, resting against the unopened laminated menus.

“You wanted things I couldn’t give you. You deserved things I had no way to give.”

“Did I want to live together in my nice apartment? Yes. Of course I did. I wanted you out of the shed and in a nice, warm bed. I wanted you to have a bathroom and a closet of clean clothes. I wanted you to have a kitchen full of things to eat and drink. I wanted us to be able to sit on the couch and watch movies. I’m not going to lie; of course I wanted all of those things—that life—for both of us. Together.”