Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 85135 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85135 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
“But you’re in London.”
“Yeah. Exactly. Different continent. Different man. Different music. We can call it London or The London Album. It’s fresh. And new. I like it.”
“You’re serious about this?” Felicity asks. She doesn’t wait for a response before she says, “We need to wake up Tommy.”
Talking about this change in direction is like putting on the dress you know makes you look fantastic and someone gives you a shot of tequila at the same time. It feels so good. So right. So exactly what I’m meant to be doing.
I’m sitting around here in my hotel room dreading going out to talk to people about my music. That’s not how it’s supposed to be. I’ve always been excited about my music. Felicity hangs up for precisely three seconds and returns with Tommy on video. I can’t help but grin at him like it’s Christmas morning.
For the first time in weeks, I feel good about what my day has in store for me.
“What’s going on?” he asks.
“I’m going to need a studio,” I say. “Worst-case scenario, we can use Chester Terrace. I still have a few weeks on the lease there.”
“You’re feeling inspired?” he asks. “That’s wonderful. I’ll see what I can arrange for you.”
“So inspired that we’re trashing Everlasting Whispers. I’m going to write an entirely new album.”
The phone vibrates with Tommy’s howls.
I don’t care, because I’m about to record the most important album of my life.
NINETEEN
Vivian
I look up from the piano in the live room to see Beau standing over the mixing desk, watching me through the glass. The door’s open and I beckon him forward.
“Hey,” I say, standing up to greet him.
His grin is as wide as Texas.
It’s early. Beau offered to stop by and deliver coffee when I told him I was at Chester Terrace. I haven’t seen him since Operation and our kiss, but I’ve exchanged messages with him every day since. I’m feeling so inspired, I don’t want to be far from a piano.
“Your flat white.” He raises the cup and then steps a little too close before pressing a kiss to my lips.
I can feel my blush light up my face. “Thanks. You on your way to work?” I ask.
He glances around. “Absolutely. And you’re already at work.”
The last few days have been some of the most creative of my entire career. I just can’t stop the melodies, the words. I have four complete songs. They’re not recorded yet, but they’re ready. “This is my favorite bit—burrowing down and just writing and playing music. There’s not much work to it—at least, that’s how it feels.”
He grins. “I like that. It’s good to enjoy what you do. What are you working on? You’re singing about me, I hope.”
I laugh. “Of course.” More than he knows. “I just wrote a song called ‘Freedom’. You wanna hear it?”
“Absolutely,” he says.
I hand him my coffee, sit down at the piano and start to play.
You used to be my shadow, my rock-solid stone.
And now here I am, out here on my own.
I waited for the loneliness to come and get me in the night.
Instead I found a freedom, an escape from the fight.
Free-dom. I’m flying, high into the air.
Free-dom. Oh baby I’m me without a care.
Free-dom. Life’s for living, don’t you know.
For far too long I hid my light and now I’m ready to be free.
The melody reminds me of something I wrote before I became successful. My fingers slip over the keys as if they’ve known this song for years rather than twenty-four hours. It’s going to be the first song on the new album and I think it has single potential. It’s the only song that remotely references Matt, and it feels like the perfect transition from the old me to the new me—from my old music, so much of which was about him, to my new music, which is about me and what’s next.
I play the final note and look up at him. His expression is pure joy.
“It’s incredible,” he says. “Pretty and powerful at the same time. Is that possible?”
I feel like a flower, unfurling under his attention. “You couldn’t have paid me a greater compliment.”
“It’s beautiful watching you play,” he says. His attention is so focused on me, it makes me shiver.
I shift on the piano stool and pat the space beside me.
He takes a seat and hands me my coffee.
“Thanks for coming,” I say. “I’ve missed this coffee.”
He laughs. “I’ll be your delivery boy anytime.”
I laugh and rest my head on his shoulder. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“I know. It’s fine.”
It’s nice to be around someone who’s so comfortable in who he is. Beau doesn’t get pissed off at the slightest misunderstanding or wrong word. He’s relaxed and clearly pleased to be here. With me.
“Hey,” I sit upright and look at him. “I really want to watch that new Reese Witherspoon movie. I know it’s dropping on Netflix, but I thought I’d throwback to the olden days and hire a screening room on Saturday. Get popcorn and a hotdog. Want to join me?”