Blurring the Lines (7 page)

“I know this whole situation of me being here is sort of crazy, but it worked!” He paused for a second, a small handful of colorful writing on pages in each hand. “I got a ton down.”

“Color coding?” she teased, relieved he hadn’t asked more about her name or parents.

He chuckled. “Not exactly. Every time I slowed, or got stuck, I just changed color, and…”

“Crayons are cheaper than plane tickets, Chris.” She didn’t know how she meant it, which meant he probably didn’t know how to take it.

Chris grimaced. “
You know, I can help. With whatever.”

“From what I can tell from Max, you heat up scones for food.” Again, she didn’t know how the words came out because she didn’t know how she meant them.

Chris gathered the remaining papers and stacked them on the coffee table.

“Christian,” she said softly. “We’re good. I’m just…”

He turned to face her, less panicked and more sorry. “Private. And I ruined that.”

It wasn’t just that she was private. It was that being around Chris made her realize how much she’d missed actually living instead of just getting by. The realization slammed into her hard.
She’d been just getting by
. “It’s not ruined.”

Just compromised.

There was a part of Chris that knew he should walk out and never look back, but the other part of him looked at the stack of papers of his writing. His lyrics. His songs. And he wasn’t ready to give it up. He’d have given Corinne any amount of money she asked for to let him stay.

Salsa music turned on in the kitchen after Corinne slid the pizza in the oven and Chris watched her dance with Jonah. Where was the kid’s mom? His dad? Was Jonah here full time? She was practically his mother if that was the case. Hell, he didn’t even know what she did for work during the day. No wait...yoga. Ha! She taught yoga. He watched her body move. Remembered her strength, flexibility… Yes, the yoga had done very, very nice things to her.

He should have cared more that she didn’t want him to know about her life, should have had more respect for that. And Chris wasn’t about to dig, but he did want to find ways to get closer to her. Maybe starting now. He stepped around a worn chair and past the tiny table into the opening of the kitchen.

Jonah giggled as he and Corinne did an awkward salsa.

“Can I cut in?” Chris asked.

Corinne paused. “You dance.”

He nodded once. “Mom taught ballroom.”

She shook her head. “Well, then you’ll put me to shame.”

Chris wanted to be close enough to her to dance with her. Close enough to maybe break down some walls. Close enough to make fresh memories of how their bodies fit together.

“Yes!” Jonah clapped his hands, and she relented, stepping into Chris’ arms, which were positioned at the ready.

His fingers clasped hers, and his hand rested just over her hip, in that perfect dent made firm by her toned muscles.

In seconds she moved with him easily and he watched her face as she concentrated on their feet, but as the music continued and their movements continued she began to relax and a smile spread across her face that was more real than maybe any emotion he’d seen from her.

“I’m going to spin you,” he warned just before twirling her around, keeping his hand on her waist and pulling her body against his at the end of the turn.

He expected her to laugh him off or shrug him away, but she kept moving with him, her hand tightening its grip and him breathing in the smell of her again. He was thinking a lot less about the feel of her dancing in the kitchen than about their night together. About what it would be like to have a lot of nights together. Her bare shoulders, breasts, legs… He mis-stepped, and she paused with her wide-eyes on him. His breath caught, and the timer on the oven went off breaking the moment.

She spun away from him, her dark hair flying. “I gotta get that.”

But the idea of her had been planted, and he watched her pull the pizza from the oven and Jonah’s small hands clapping in excitement as he hopped up and down. For the first time that Chris could remember, he actually wanted something more in his life that had nothing to do with music. Something...permanent.

She had this kid here, and this life with a house that she loved… He could see it. Coming home to someone like her. Having family pizza nights, movie nights… Wow. He missed his family. Thought about his dad’s puzzles, and his mom’s dancing and cooking. He hadn’t missed his family in… Well as long as he’d been able to not think about them.

“Pizza?” She held a plate toward him and he wondered how many times she’d asked.

“Thank you.” He took the plate still a little stunned from his realization. This… This every day stuff had never been part of his plan. Ever. And now he couldn’t imagine why.

Chris sat on the floor in the kitchen, just outside the bathroom while Jonah stood on a stool brushing his teeth.

“Auntie Corinne grew me in her tummy,” Jonah said as he continued scrubbing. “My mom told me.”

The room spun. Chris coughed twice before finding his voice. “Really? Are you sure?”

His heart sped up at the realization that this kid might be willing to clue him in to her since she still seemed so closed off. She’d politely asked about lyrics after pizza and dancing, and he’d been vague, wanting the songs to be a little more solidified before he asked her to step in and help. Also not wanting her to think what he’d done was good enough to send him away. And he wanted to surprise her with
Saving Grace
anyway.

“Yeah. And I lived with my mom and dad, but my mom and dad was Corinne’s sister and her husband.” Jonah scrubbed some more, toothpaste crawling up the brush toward his small hand.

Chris watched Jonah’s eyes get huge as he looked in the mirror and scrubbed his molars with his brush.

“I see…”

“But they died.”

Chris’ heart stilled. He’d lost his father a few years ago, and the thought of it sometimes knocked the wind out of him.

“And so did Corinne’s boyfriend. They were in an airplane that broke. Corinne was going to get married.”

Chris scooted off the wall and turned to see Jonah better. The grief… He couldn’t put words to the thought of it. “How long ago?”

Jonah put his toothbrush away. “I think I was three.”

“And now you’re five,” Chris said calculating timing.

Jonah grinned, his missing front tooth even more apparent. “Yep. And now you check my teeth. Make sure I got all the sugar bugs off.”

His body felt weak as he slid over to inspect Jonah’s mouth, and he tried to find some sort of kid-friendly voice. “You got ‘em.”

“Okay.” Corinne stepped back into the kitchen from the small room behind it. “Laundry is finally started. You get the sugar bugs off?” she asked Jonah.

Jonah turned to Corinne. “Chris says they’re all gone.”

She smiled wide, and suddenly the resemblance hit him. The kid was so much paler than her, that they hadn’t even looked similar, but they definitely had the same smile. How had he not seen that first thing?

“So. You got to play tooth inspector. How’s that helping your writing?” she teased.

Chris didn’t know what to say. He looked up at this woman, whose presence and strength he didn’t fully comprehend, and thought about what Jonah had said.

Her face fell. “Whatever he told you, no. No, I don’t want to talk about it. I should have guessed. His mom started the sugar bugs thing. I’m going to read books with Jonah. You write. That’s why you’re here, yeah?”

Chris closed his eyes briefly, and crawled off his spot on the floor. He should go home. Leave her alone. The brief times when he felt it was okay that he was there, maybe weren’t worth it for how he felt in this moment—like he’d once again broken down walls she wanted up.

Corinne’s life had been harder than he could imagine, and she was doing a million times better than him. How pathetic was he? He came crawling to her doorstep because he thought his life was over simply because he’d lost his ability to write. He hadn’t lost three people close to him. Hadn’t given up a son, only to have him return… It was as if his insides were toppling over each other in a race to drag him down.

She stepped into Jonah’s room, closing the door between them.

His fingers twitched at the release he craved. Thought about checking the medicine cabinet for a Percocet or a Vicodin or the pantry for wine, or… He shook out his hands and rested his hand over his pocket to pull out his phone and call his sponsor, but stopped. They’d talk the following morning. He’d send her a text that night. Chris could get through. He just had to stay busy.

He walked back toward the living room. The coffee table was littered with the crayons and papers from earlier that afternoon, and Chris sat on the couch, defeated.

He ran his hands through his hair again and again.

“Want tea?” Corinne asked as she pulled two mugs and set them on the counter.

Time felt warped because he swore she’d just stepped into Jonah’s room, and at the same time it felt like a lifetime of want. It was a sure sign he might be headed to a bad place.

“About before,” he started.

Corinne froze, her back to him. “It’s not something I talk about. It’s not something I
can
talk about. Sometimes it all still hurts like it was yesterday.”

“I just—”

She spun and faced him over the counter. “Chris. Please. You’re writing. This is what you wanted. Let it go.”

“I want to be friends. Shit…” He paused. “I sound like an idiot. Why can’t we blur that line a little? Between paid songwriter and friend?”

“Because blurring one line, blurs other lines, and I just…
Please
. I’m okay with you here. I want you to be writing again. I’m okay with being part of that. I just… I have friends. I have family. I have people.”

“I don’t.” The words left his mouth before he had time to stop them.

Corinne paused in her movements, and he wondered if he’d accidentally played a dirty trick in getting her to sympathize with him. Her mouth opened as if she was going to say something, but she clamped it shut again.

“I’m an asshole to my family because I didn’t know how to deal when my dad died. I pulled a ridiculously stereotypical rock star bullshit move and came to his funeral high on cocaine with a girl. My brother took care of my mom. Took care of everything, and I sat next to them high out of my mind with a girl I barely knew in ridiculously over-priced shoes I bought for her along with a bunch of other shit that I probably bought for her, and I haven’t talked to them since. My band were my friends, but they had to save their own asses, so when I bailed, we just don’t… It’s not the same.”

Chris watched her for any sign that his words had affected her.

Her face softened. “Quite a confession.”

“Yeah...well…” He ran his hand through his hair again. “You’ve been just… I don’t even know how to explain how amazing you’ve been, so it throws me when you say we’re not friends. And I’m sorry if one night together makes you uncomfortable, but it doesn’t make me uncomfortable, and you’ve made it very clear we’re not going there again.” Chris was out of words and exhausted with feeling pathetic.

Corinne rested her fingertips on her eyelids for a moment before pulling in a long breath. “We’re friends, Chris, but I don’t trust you.”

Right. And why should she? Especially after his idiotic confession. “Smart move.”

“So.” A corner of her mouth kicked up in a half smile. “Tea?”

“Thanks.” For a million things he had no idea how to voice.

SEVEN

Corinne’s teeth ground together in her mother’s carefully wallpapered office. The sun reflected off the pale green pattern and the picture-perfectness of it infuriated her more. She stared at the photos on her mom’s computer screen as if they would save her from the conversation.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she knew it would most likely be Heather, dying for a longer explanation than what Corinne had relayed in a text. Now was not the time.

“The whole situation of this man in your house just seems—”

Curse Chris for answering the phone.
“Mom, for the hundredth time, he’s only here for a couple days to solidify some lyrics.” Corinne attached the photos to the email so her mom could show her brother the addition to their already over-sized house.

Rose ran her fingers through her black hair, tucking in the straight, loose strands. Any trace of their Mexican heritage had been weeded out long before Corinne came along. “That seems like something one could do over the phone.” Her fingers fiddled with the buttons on her white blouse.

Of course it was. Of course they could have tried, but for someone whose creative side rested solely within the realm of home decorating, her mother wouldn’t understand. Corinne settled with, “This works better.”

Her mother shifted in her chair, ran hands over her wool trousers and re-crossed her legs.

She generally felt like a scrub in her mother’s overly preened home, but it was something she should have been used to.

“I just don’t want to see my girl hurt again.”

Corinne spun in the chair. “Can we not talk about my life as a series of screw-ups? Just for today? Please?”

The two women stared at one another for a moment before Corinne’s mother stood and once again smoothed her hands over her blouse and slacks. “Thank you for your help with the pictures. Everything on my computer changed when your father insisted on updating the software.”

Releasing a breath, Corinne grabbed a handful of thick curls and slipped an elastic over her hair, sliding it into a messy ponytail.

“You know…” her mother trailed off and Corinne stood, waiting for the next life lesson.

“The lady who does my hair could probably straighten yours with that perm solution, and—”

“I like my curly hair, Mom.” She stepped around her mother suddenly wishing she hadn’t worn her holey jeans but her nice pair. “I need to pick up Jonah.”

“Corinne,” her mother scolded. “There’s no need to get all huffy because I’m trying to look out for you. Life would be so much easier if you weren’t doing all of this alone.”

She bit down to keep from screaming. She hadn’t wanted to do this alone. An asshole who didn’t want his son wasn’t part of her plan. Her soon to be husband, sister and brother-in-law dying in a plane accident, also hadn’t been part of her plan. John had accepted her, faults and all, and there weren’t words for how she sometimes missed him, loved him and felt the loss of the sense of stability he provided.

At that moment, all she wanted to do was curl up in front of the fire and have Christian Meyer play for her. But first she had to figure out how to answer Heather as to what on earth was happening at her house so she could actually relax when she got there.

Chris hit end on the call with his sponsor and slid lower into the couch in front of the fire. Iris’ words weren’t exactly what he wanted to hear. Yes, it was good that he was thinking less about getting high, but making that relaxed sobriety dependent on
Corinne wasn’t healthy, blah, blah, blah…

Life felt easier around Corinne, and that was something he didn’t want to let go of, no matter what his sponsor had to say. He’d done dishes that morning. Spent a few minutes sliding shoes back onto the small shelves near the door, and the whole time he felt
good,
like what he did was going to impact someone else’s life in a positive way. A simple way. He knew that Jonah would come home soon, and Corinne would probably be back any minute. It was all their routine, and being a part of it felt like he belonged.

He’d also gotten the new songs close enough that he wanted to really sit down and play for Corinne. Have her help with some of the less interesting rhymes and riffs, and see that he could write on his own. Though…he might save the one for another time.

Max’s name flashed on his phone for probably the fifth time, and Chris held his thumb over the answer button for a moment before finally touching the screen. “Max, what’s up?” he asked in his best, easy voice.

“Um… How about you didn’t check into your hotel? Or how about this being the first call of mine you’ve answered in three days? Where the fuck are you, Chris?”

“I love you, too, Max.”

“I’m serious. Look. I’m your friend, but only because I’ve known you for so long. You can’t put me in this position. Are we moving forward? What are we?
Where are you? And what’s happening with music?”

“I’m awesome. Promise. I have a few lyrics to smooth over and some new riffs I’m playing with. But the album is going to be solid. Exactly what I envisioned.” He sat up, letting his feet fall to the floor. “How about I find a good studio near here, and lay down a few tracks. Make them as clean as I can and see if Don can work some magic, cool?”

“Where is
here
, Chris?” Max asked slowly and Chris cringed. Max would tear him a new one if he knew Chris had gone around his back and found Corinne.

Corinne’s old truck bounced up the gravel driveway and Chris stood, moving to the window, his whole chest had expanded with her arrival. He’d have never guessed a person could have this effect on him. “I gotta go.”

“
Where are you
?” Max demanded.

“I’m-in-Washington-with-Corinne-don’t-kill-me-we’ll-talk-soon. You’re breaking up Max!” Chris shouted and hit End Call just as Corinne stepped in the door with a smile.

“You okay?” she asked.

“Yes,” he answered as he let his shoulders fall with the calm feeling he got around this gorgeous woman. “I’m absolutely fantastic.”

“Well…” She raised a brow. “That’s good because my mom stresses me out, and—”

“I’m sorry.” He frowned. Corinne had said she had people and he’d assumed that she had to be tight with her family. “Answering the phone… I just wasn’t thinking.”

“Oh.” She waved him off. “It’s fine. She’s just particular. Watching out for me. The normal stuff.”

The way Corinne shoved her light jacket onto her hook on the wall told him that it probably hadn’t been normal stuff.

“Heather left two messages, but I’ve learned my lesson.” He held his hands up. “No answering.”

Corinne pressed her fingers into her eyes. “Yeah. You can imagine Heather is deathly curious about why you’re here.”

“I got a call from Max, which makes me think you’ll probably be getting a call as well.” Chris grimaced.

Corinne shrugged. “I realized when I was almost home that I left my phone at Mom’s house. She’ll either bring it up here tonight, or I’ll drive down to Seattle in the morning to pick it up.”

“I wanted to run some music by you tonight if you’re up for it. Heather’s welcome to come. This is your house. I’m sure I’ve overstayed.” But he clamped his mouth shut not ready to give Corinne a reason to agree that he should maybe leave.

A brow cocked. “Maybe I’ll ask Heather to pick up Thai food on her way home.
But I’ll warn you, if she’s here after her kids crash, she might snuggle you to sleep.”

Chris laughed. “And this is the woman whose husband is...overseas? I think you mentioned that in California.”

Corinne moved in a smooth walk to the kitchen—shoulders straight, back straight, relaxed face. She probably had no idea she walked like a dancer.

“He’s a contractor. Not military. Gone a lot.” She pulled open her small pantry door and stared.

He watched her, Corinne feeling like less of a stranger with every bit of time they spent together. He’d never thought so much about someone else in this way. Wanting to know all the details of their life. And he’d certainly never been in the position of wanting to know all those things, when the person wanted to share nothing.

“I forgot. PTA meeting tonight. Heather won’t make it.” She sighed. “I’ll have to find another time to catch her up.” She mumbled almost as if he weren’t there.

“Can I do something for you?” he asked.

“Sorry.” She shoved her hands through her hair and leaned against the doorframe. “It always takes me a while to relax again after my parents’ house.”

“I thought…” He swallowed unsure if he should continue. He never worried about what came out of his mouth until he became sober. Now… Constant struggle. “I thought you said you have people.”

He watched her face go flat.

Damn. He’d lost her again.

“How about we play?” he suggested, leaning forward a little too far, holding his breath waiting for her to respond.

She started for the door again, shaking out her hands.

What just happened?

“I need to get Jonah from the bus stop.”

“Hey, Corinne.” He half-jumped over the back of the couch. “Let me get Jonah. End of your insanely long driveway, right?”

She paused and nodded, watching Chris with curious eyes.

“Why don’t you take a long, hot, shower. I’ll get Jonah and we’ll
…” What exactly? “Um… He’ll want a snack or something, right?”

“You don’t have to—”

He touched her arm, needing to do something to take care of her—a feeling he hadn’t felt since he could remember. “Please. He’s a cool kid. I can handle him for the length of a shower.”

“Yeah.” Corinne let out a breath. “That would actually be great. I have to get my head on straight or...something.”

The conversation with her mom played through her head and then as she stripped and stood in the shower, she saw flashes of her night with Chris. Lips on her neck. Sliding across her collarbone. Steady hands guiding her body into the kind of perfect orgasm she wasn’t likely to repeat. The warmth of him next to her as they slept. The papers strewn over the floor on his side of the bed…

And then she shook off her night with him because that would lead her nowhere good, and wondered what she was going to tell her friend.
Corinne definitely had to get her head on straight.

After dressing she wandered downstairs and smelled
dish soap.

Chris had
done dishes. She couldn’t even remember the last time someone else had done dishes for her. And why did it have to feel
sexy
that he’d done them?

Corinne had to stop. As over-cautious as she was, she wasn’t sure how to even be friends with Chris, much less attempt a repeat of California. She’d have never slept with him if she thought she was going to
see
him again.

She watched as he walked down her driveway—very much misplaced in her world of gravel driveways, trees and solitude.

Her mom didn’t normally upset her this much. And usually Heather was her sounding board for everything. And the sex-thoughts. Those weren’t like her either.

Maybe she agreed with her mother. It was weird that this guy she barely knew just showed up on her porch. At the same time, he looked...lighter than he had when he first arrived. Just offering to pick up
Jonah at the end of the driveway—something so simple—showed he was thinking outside of himself. She really did have him in a box of what she thought he was, but maybe that’s not who he was. Maybe he was something more.

Self-preservation had taught her a lot, and she had to remember all the million reasons why he was a bad idea. She could let herself be happy that she was helping a fellow artist get back on his feet. And it could stop there. They could find a
way to be some kind of friends. She knew he wanted that much at least.

Okay. Chris was here. He was writing. He probably had some kind of plan. She’d just let his stay at her house play out, and then maybe they’d stay in contact and maybe they wouldn’t. She knew exactly how insane the final weeks before tour were, as well as the chaos that being on tour could be.

Corinne smiled as Chris and Jonah walked inside. Her mind still spinning, she gave Jonah a hug, and Chris immediately brought Jonah to the table where he’d made up his snack. She watched Chris and Jonah sitting together with Oreos and a stack of paper at the small table, glanced over at the clean kitchen, and the mess of shoes and discarded coats from her morning, once again resting against the wall… Her legs went weak with the thought of
she wasn’t doing everything alone
. That was a far too dangerous thought for her to settle into.

Routine.

Relax.

Stop over-analyzing.

She moved upstairs, wanting to do a quick wipe-down of her bathroom before Chris used it that night. Tried not to think about his naked body standing under the water. When she emerged from the small room, voices carried up from downstairs.

“No, no, of course it’s great that you stopped in,” Chris said, and Corinne stopped. Heather?