FanGirl Squeal (RockStars of Romance Book 1) (20 page)

“How much longer are you going to be in town?” he asked.

“I leave tomorrow.”

Cash playfully pulled me back down on the bed and kissed my
forehead. His beautiful eyes were smiling at me.

“Let’s make a deal. I’ll take you to your hotel to get your
stuff, but you have to come back here and let me take you and your friends out
to dinner. I’ll make sure you get to the airport tomorrow.”

Oh God…this man! He’s making this so hard!

“I can’t,” I shook my head. “I have to see my parents before
I go.”

“You’re making excuses.” He held me closer and drew my
earlobe into his mouth. Immediately, my body responded. I squeezed my legs
shut.

“You don’t want to stay with me, Savannah?”

What the hell
, I thought, and threw caution to the
wind. One more night with Cash isn’t going to change the future, but one more
night will complete this truly unforgettable weekend.

I tussled Cash’s already messy bed hair and dipped my head
to kiss that spot right above his collarbone that made him shiver.

“Okay, you’ve got a deal. You’ve got me for one more night.”

“Mom! Dad!” I yelled as I walked through the front door of
my childhood home.

I found them in the family room. Dad was seated in the same
recliner he’s had for seventeen years. Mom was stretched out on the sofa. They
were both reading a stack of what I assumed were essays. Word on the NYU campus
is that Dr. and Dr. Ford absolutely love having their students write essays.

I kissed them both and sat down next to my mom. She frowned
disapprovingly at my hair. Just like Aunt Charlene had advised, a swim in Cash’s
huge tub and a good diffuser and my hair was right back to the bouncy curly “mess”
I love.

“You looked really beautiful last night with your hair down,”
my mother commented.

Here we go.

“Yeah,” I agreed. “It went with the dress. So, I just
stopped by because I’m leaving today and I wanted to talk to you guys before I
left.”

Talking to my parents about their betrayal probably isn’t
the best idea I’ve had, but they need to know that their association with
Jacoby and his parents is completely unacceptable.

“Talk about what?” my father asked without looking up from
his paper.

“This Jacoby thing,” I told him. “Why were the Reynolds even
invited to the party, and why have you been having conversations about me with
their son?”

Mom sat her papers to the side. “We’ve known Steve and
Gloria way before you and Jacoby started dating.”

“So!” I scoffed. “You’ve known me for twenty-seven years.
Doesn’t the fact that you birthed me count for some sort of loyalty and
understanding?”

“When you and Jacoby started dating, you two begged us and
his parents not to get involved in your relationship,” my father reminded me. “Just
because you broke up with your boyfriend doesn’t mean our relationship with our
friends should be affected.”

“Correction,” I snapped. “I did not break up with my
boyfriend. He did not show up to our wedding. There is a distinct difference
there, Dad. And since you paid for a wedding that did not happen because of
your friends’ son, I think that fifty grand is a good enough reason not to
speak to them anymore if your daughter’s shattered heart and humiliation aren’t
good enough reasons.”

“Money is never a good reason to end a friendship,” was my
father’s reply. “What’s the real reason you’re upset, Savannah?”

Dr. and Dr. Ford are two of the most intelligent people that
I know. Both are well-respected psychologists. Aside from teaching at NYU, they
own a successful family counseling practice. As children, and even more as
adults,
what is the real reason
is common question in our home.

I sat back on the sofa and avoided my parents’ eyes. I tried
to explain, in painstaking detail, how hurt I was that they’ve been
entertaining Jacoby’s bullshit.

“You’re saying,” my mother started after I finished crying
my eyes out, “that you’re upset because Jacoby approached us about the
possibility of getting back together with you and we didn’t automatically
object to the idea? You have to understand, Savannah, that we did not have the
entire story that you just told us.”

“It doesn’t matter,” I cried. “I’m mad that you didn’t tell
him to stay away from your child forever. What he did should have been enough
for you to say that. You didn’t have to know his reason. I’m mad that you
disregarded how hurt I was in the interest of doing what you thought was best
for me. I know you guys love me, but when it comes to that man, not seeing or
talking to him will always be what’s best for me. You should have asked me. That’s
why I’m pissed.”

My father, all 6’7” of lean muscle and ebony skin, rose from
his recliner and joined my mother and me on the sofa. He put his heavy arm
around me and squeezed my shoulders.

“I hear you, babygirl. I understand what you’re saying. I
apologize that we hurt your feelings. Personally, I felt that having a chance
to tell Jacoby how you feel would be good for you.”

“It would have been good for her if he had picked a more
appropriate setting,” my mom added. “Nevertheless, we were wrong for not asking
you first. Next time, we’ll listen to your sister. She told us it was bad idea.
I apologize too, Savannah.”

I found the fact that my parents were agreeable and
apologetic to be slightly odd, but I’m not one to look a gift horse in the
mouth. I accepted their apologies and I’m moving on from this nightmare.

My parents and I took the train to Brooklyn and had lunch at
Junior’s. It was pleasant. Dad even bought me two whole cheesecakes to take
back to L.A.

After a rocky start, the fact that this weekend is ending on
a positive note with my family and neither Ashley nor I tried to kill one
another pleases the hell out of me. It’s times like these I wish I lived closer
to my family because they really do love me and I love them.

I felt bad when Cash pulled in front of the house in his
Range Rover and I had to lie to my parents about who was picking me up. Despite
the warm and fuzzy vibes, I’m not ready to have the Cash Myers conversation
with them. I simply kissed them both and promised to stay safe in Los Angles.

Cash was on his phone when I climbed into the truck. He
leaned over and kissed me before resuming his conversation.

“What I’m trying to figure out is why I’m having this
conversation with you and not Tracy. If my publicist doesn’t see a problem with
it, then my manager damn sure shouldn’t.”

Cash was quiet. I noticed tension in his shoulders but was
more interested in how good he looked. He’d been busy while I was visiting my
parents. He’d gotten a haircut, a close shave, and even a manicure. I couldn’t
resist touching his smooth face. He smiled at me.

“Olivia, we’ll talk later. I’ll come up to the office in an
hour or two.” Cash hung up his phone and tossed it in the cup holder, despite
having a specific place for his phone. “Did you have fun with your parents?”

“It was pleasant,” I answered.

“That’s good.”

Cash grew oddly quiet. Whatever his conversation was about
was weighing on his mind. I was disappointed that our last few minutes together
felt so awkward. Cash pulled into an underground parking deck across the street
from the airport instead of dropping me off at the departures gate.

Wordlessly, he retrieved my bags from the trunk. I joined
him at the back of the car and leaned against it. His blue eyes reflected the
despondent hunch of his shoulders and general sadness in his face. I’m pretty
sure that my eyes mirrored his. I was desperately trying to keep my composure,
but my bottom lip still quivered. I’m not ready for this. I’m not ready to say
goodbye.

With his back against car, Cash reached for my hand and
interlocked his fingers with mine.

“Why do you look like you’re going to cry?” he asked.

“Because I feel like this goodbye is so final,” I answered. “Like
this entire trip is going to be bookended with a big but, kind of like ‘I had a
lot of fun with you but that’s it. I get to go back to Los Angeles and do my “blogger
thing,” you stay here and do your “rockstar thing,” and that’s it. And it sucks,”
I whispered. I allowed a single tear to leave my eyes before I squeezed them
shut and silently admonished myself for being such a girl.

“Savannah, there’s no but. I know that you feel that way,
but this wasn’t some rebound thing or a weekend hookup for me.”

I was stunned by Cash’s words. I looked right into his eyes
and he was serious.

“Cash,” I sighed. “You and I…I admit, there’s a spark. There’s
definitely chemistry, but we have to be realistic about this. I like you, but
at the end of the day, we live on two different coasts and you’re,” I tried to
think of the right word. “You’re you. How does this work?”

“There’s a line in a John Mayer song that goes, if you think
my up and leaving’s something I’m gonna do, feel my chest when I look at you.”
Cash chuckled quietly. “I always thought that was the most cheeseball lyric,
but now I get it.”

He turned to face me and put my hand over his heart. Cash’s
heartbeat was a quick staccato in his chest, like an African drumbeat.

“It works if both of us want it to work. That’s the reality
of it. I think we have something and I want us to have more time together. I’m
being selfish as hell right now, but I really want you to stay with me,” he
said. “I don’t want you to leave.”

“I can’t stay. I have to work. I’m doing this Women in Media
thing, I’m teaching a social media workshop,” I groaned. “If I could stay…”

“I know.” His tone was so understanding yet I could hear the
longing in his voice. “That’s why it’s selfish of me to want that. This is
probably going to scare the shit out of you, but I see us together and I have
since I read your letter. I just want to find out if this is the real thing.”

Cash lifted my chin towards him. I could barely see the
contours of his face through my own blurry eyes. He touched the side of my face
so lightly that his finger could have easily been mistaken for a feather. I
closed my eyes as he bent his head and his lips gently pressed against mine.

Every car speeding over the speed bumps in the deck, all the
street sounds from above…I heard none of it against the roar in my ears as Cash
kissed me. There was nothing, in that moment, but me and him, and God, how I
wanted it to last forever.

We kissed in that parking deck for I don’t know how long
before Cash reluctantly dropped his arms from my waist and pulled away.

“You’re the one,” Cash whispered in my ear before completely
releasing me. “I feel it.”

My head was still in clouds from the intensity of our moment
so I was sure that I had heard him correctly.

“What?”

Cash gave me his half grin-half smirk and patted my ass. “You
heard me. You better get going. Can’t miss your flight.”

I took the handles of my bags and unlocked the wheels. Cash
gave me a quick peck on my forehead before he lowered my Dolce and Gabanna shades
onto my face.

“Get outta here, movie star,” he teased. “Call me when you
get settled.”

I couldn’t say goodbye. My mouth wouldn’t form the word.
Instead, I said I’d call him and headed to the elevator to take me up to ground
level. I heard Cash get back in his car. As the elevator doors closed, he
pulled out of the parking space and headed out of the deck. That’s when I left
myself cry.

After four short days, I know that I am 100% completely,
totally, head over heels in love with a man that, by all intents and purposes,
I cannot have. Strangely enough, I think he might feel the same.

“Lucy, I’m home!”

“Ricky!” I cheered in my best Lucille Ball voice as I ran
into the foyer.

I jumped into Troy’s arms. I was so excited to see him,
mainly because I had so much to tell him. I hadn’t talked to him the entire
time I was in New York. He was in Chicago to style one of his clients for a
wedding when I got back.

“Well, that’s quite a welcome home,” Troy laughed. He leaned
his suitcase against the wall and gave me a proper hug.

I figured the polite thing to do was ask about Troy’s trip
before I unloaded all my crap on him. Even though I know that Troy would drop
everything to listen to me, I couldn’t do that. I was raised better.

 “How was Chicago?”

“Humph! Bridezilla city. I don’t know why I went up there.
You know I hate brides and their hair.”

I took a long look at my friend as I followed him into our
living room. There was a little pep in his step and a sway to his hips that
only happened when he was extremely happy about something. Troy sat down on of
our black leather armchairs and crossed his legs.

“So, how was New York, sweetie? Is your sister still
breathing?”

I nodded while suspiciously studying his face. His caramel
skin was smooth. He had a fresh trim and line-up of his goatee. His bald head
was shiny from a brand new shave. And he was smiling. Something was up. I
looked down the hallway at his one suitcase. Just one, but he supposedly was in
Chicago doing hair. Where was his stuff?

“You are such a liar!” I shouted. “You were with Brandon!”

“Can’t fool you, Miss I Spy Private Eye.”

I was a little disappointed. I miss my friend too. I try to
include Troy and Brandon in everything I do, but since they’ve been together, I’m
starting to feel a little left out.

“Come on,” I complained. “You couldn’t wait for me to get
back before going to Seattle?”

Troy lowered his eyes and smacked his lips. “Wait for you?
Why? Are you dating Brandon too?”

“No, but,” I pouted. “We’re a trio. You two didn’t want to
hang with me in Vegas. Now, you’re lying about being with him when you said you
were in Chicago. Did I miss the memo that said that this was okay?”