Connected (24 page)

I shake my head. I know the song well, but right now I can’t recall any specific lyric. My mind shuffles between thoughts of both of them.
Ben, River, River, Ben.

He pauses, removing his hand from my face; he places both his hands against the wall on each side of my head. I know what I just said to him, but his nearness makes my heart accelerate to twice its normal rate.

He continues to talk, and I continue listen. He has my full attention when he very softly starts to sing.

You were my once in a lifetime.

This I knew from the moment your eyes met mine.

You were my once in a lifetime.

This I knew the first time I whispered into your ear and my heart stopped.

You were my once in a lifetime.

This I knew when your face touched my spirit.

You were my once in a lifetime.

This I knew when I kissed your lips and felt it in my soul.

So where did you go, where did you go?

He sings those beautiful lyrics into my ear, and tears start streaming down my face.

Moving a little closer, he places his leg in between mine. With a strained voice he whispers, “Those lyrics tell the story Dahlia, our story. I wrote that song five years ago and even now when I sing it, your face is the face I see. You’re unforgettable Dahlia. You’re perfect, really.”

My body quivers without control as he leans in and lightly kisses my forehead, sliding his lips down my temple to my ear. “I just wanted you to know because I felt connected to you that night in a way I’ve never felt connected to anyone. Then today, when I saw you again, that connection I felt years ago instantly returned.”

Feeling light-headed, I close my eyes. I’m unable to speak. His words are so moving, so raw, so emotional.

He kisses each of my eyelids and hovering his mouth over mine, he talks around my lips. “Ever since I met you, no one else has been worth thinking about.”

I open my eyes, and he presses his forehead to mine as he continues, “I feel like fate has brought us together again. I also believe that one night, so long ago, just wasn’t the right time for us. But tonight is.”

I close my eyes again at his confession. Keeping them closed this time, I stand there motionless, still unable to speak. When I open my eyes, I drink him in, all of him, everything about him, especially his beautiful words.

Looking into his eyes, I find him gazing back at me as he says, “Dahlia you don’t have to apologize for anything.”

With a small grin, he motions his finger back and forth between us. “And even though I’m sure you can do this, it’s ok if you don’t want to right now. We can just hang out, talk, or watch a movie. Whatever you want. Just stay with me, don’t interfere with fate now that we’ve reconnected.”

And with that, I nod my head, turn to press the elevator call button, and realize I never spoke a word during that whole conversation. I didn’t need to. Because somehow, he knew exactly how I felt.

FADE INTO YOU

You turn the light on slowly and I ask

Does your heart have a home

You put our hands together

And your smile covers mine

As I fade into you.

Separating my job from my personal life has not gone as seamlessly as I had hoped. Dahlia the photographer and Dahlia the girl whose fiancé was killed in front of her have mixed together, and I’m standing next to the person blending the two.

We are on the balcony staring into the night. Looking up into the heavens, I notice the sky is the deepest shade of blue, and the stars are brighter than they have been in a long time. He is next to me, leaning over the railing and gazing up at the stars. I smile to myself as I realize that I’m no longer in the fire pits of hell. I’ve been grieving for Ben for so long, I couldn’t even see past him and even now with this beautiful man beside me, my thoughts can’t shut him out completely.

River nudges me with his shoulder, and my thoughts return to him only. He captures my full attention with just a simple brush of his body against mine. With just our arms touching, I can feel the electric current traveling through my body, and my heart beats a little faster. I look over at him and smile. His head is cocked to the side, preventing me from seeing all of him as his gorgeous face fades in and out from the shadows of the night. He gives me a smirk that is so sexy I want to lean over and kiss him. He has to be the most attractive man I have ever seen.

Sure enough, true to his word, the view from where we stand is the most spectacular view of Las Vegas. The wondrous mountains, the clear night sky, and the flashing neon lights from the strip below act as our backdrop as we discuss his band and his own impending emergence into the limelight. River is down to earth and not in the least bit pretentious. So of course, not having been witness to it, I’m curious about his interaction with his fans. “How do you feel about being famous? Being asked for autographs? Do fans follow you?”

He looks confused for a second, then laughs, “I’m not exactly famous.”

I softly clear my throat and then insist, “Yes you are! Your picture is all over the Internet. Your band has a huge fan base, and I wouldn’t be here with you now, prepping for a photo shoot that will announce the launch of your second album if it were otherwise.”

Grinning at me, he asks, “How do you know my picture is all over the Internet?”

“
I had to do some research before coming. I’m a professional you know,” I answer, slightly laughing as I tell him this.

“
Did you find any good ones?”

Feeling like I might be blushing, I sidestep his question. “So have you had to sign anyone’s bra yet?”

Shaking his head, he snickers a little at my question. “I don’t sign and tell.” He sighs and adds, “When the band is together, sure we get asked for autographs, and sometimes when I’m walking around LA someone will recognize me. But really, I mean it when I say, it hardly ever happens. When we toured, we had fans following us around and people asking for autographs. To tell you the truth, I’m not really sure how I feel about it. Part of me just wants to stay unknown. The whole touring thing was hard. It was a constant infringement on my personal life. That’s why I’ve put off doing a second album for so long. There’s just so much . . . you know what, never mind. And don’t get me wrong; it’s not that I’m ungrateful,” he pauses and laughs, “If it weren’t for the fans, I wouldn’t be here—with you—trying to set up promotional shots.”

His raw honesty captivates me. “Sure, I can see how all of that can wear on a person. It always sounds so glamorous, but I’m sure it can get old.”

He seems to get lost in his own thoughts, so trying to lighten the mood I say, “Well no one seems to recognize you here.”

He looks around at our surroundings before answering, “I think people who come here aren’t looking for anything but themselves. Everything around them is just irrelevant.”

I nod in agreement as I repeat the adage I saw as I exited the airport this morning. “What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.”

With that, he just shakes his head and smirks. “You’ve been watching too many commercials.”

Giggling, I playfully nudge him. “Yeah, yeah I have.”

Still curious about his fame, I ask, “So when your home in LA, fans really don’t recognize you on the street?”

Turning around, he leans his elbows on the railing and thinks for a minute before answering. “Sometimes they do. It happens randomly though. I can be going for a run and someone will come up to me, tap me on the shoulder, and shove a pen in my face. But most of the time, unless I’m with the band, people are cool and just leave me alone.”

He seems a little saddened by my question and somewhat distracted by his own answer. I want to ask him whether being recognized or not being recognized is the reason for his thoughtful behavior when there is a knock on the door.

“
Hold that thought,” he says as he turns to head back inside.

As he walks through the living room to answer the door, I can’t help but watch him. It’s his walk, his sexy sway that gets me every time. Once again, he turns around and catches me staring; and just like before, he winks at me and grins. I shake my head and laugh to myself. It’s been so long since I’ve smiled and laughed like this, I didn’t realize how much I’ve missed this feeling.

He opens the door, and one of the hotel wait-staff wheels in a dining cart with two bottles of champagne and a huge bowl of strawberries. I gush a little that he remembers I like champagne and that I like it with strawberries.

I’m surprised to see the waiter pull my suitcase and messenger bag out from under the cart as River tips him. Really? How? When? That must have been what he was doing at the front desk. This kind gesture melts away any remaining apprehension I have about being with him and replaces it with something else. It’s something way better and much more appealing. This I know as the goosebumps run rampant over my body, and the butterflies swarm in my stomach.

My mouth drops open and I take a step inside. “How did you get my things?”

Cocking his head, he breaks into a breathtaking grin as he uncorks the champagne bottle. “I knew you wanted to start the interview, so I asked the front desk to do me a favor and have your hotel send your things over.” He pauses, looking a little concerned. “I hope that’s okay?”

I bite my lip and nod my head as I walk over to him. “Of course.”

He’s pouring the champagne into the first glass as I approach him. He looks at me with an unyielding gaze. Getting as close as I can while he’s filling one of the glasses, I stroke his face with my thumb before softly kissing his cheek. “That was really sweet of you.”