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He’d arrive back from Paris this morning. Maybe he’d already landed. That meant there wasn’t an ocean between us anymore. I tossed and turned a couple of times on that freakin’ bunk-bed, trying to kick my next thought out of my head.

I failed.

Eleanor was in Paris.

Eleanor was in Paris.

Eleanor was in Paris.

La-Di-Da-La-Di-Da!
I sang in my head. But that wasn’t enough to cancel the image of Josh and that beautiful girl, having dinner in one of those romantic cafes I’d seen in so many damned movies. I could even hear the violin playing in the background.

I groaned and bit my tongue. I had a guy sleeping above me. Actually I had guys sleeping all around me. Cool, sexy guys. Really, I couldn’t go all insecure on Josh. Josh, who’d pushed me to go on this tour—because he wanted me to follow my dream.

Yep
, time to get a grip, O’Malley. In one move, I swung my feet above the edge of the bed and pulled the curtain open. No lacy number for my nights on the bus. Not that I owned anything sexy anyway. I slept in my tracksuit. A dull, brown tracksuit. Plain with nothing written on it.

A tracksuit shouting to all the dudes onboard that I might well be the shittiest lay this side of the Mississippi.

Josh had chosen the tracksuit.

It had been his only request. He didn’t need any others because wearing this tracksuit managed to put
me
off sex.

“Hey, sleepyhead!” said Shawn through an opened-mouth yawn.

I’d stumbled to the front of the bus. Along the central walkway there were big revolving seats, set two-by-two, on either side of small tables. He was sitting on one of them, a mug of coffee in his hands. Outside, the Arizona desert sprawled out to the horizon, and beyond. Its bright red soil made me blink in awe.

I slumped onto the seat opposite Shawn. We didn’t talk for a minute or two. He then stood and headed over to the mini-fridge in the kitchen corner behind the driver’s seat. When he sat back, he laid a can of Coke in front of me. “The Black Doctor’s gonna help with nausea.” He winked at me.

I hadn’t told anyone about my transport-sickness. I guess the bluish shade of my skin had given me away. That, and the stubborn way I kept my eyes glued on the road ahead of us ninety-nine percent of the time I was on the bus.

“Thanks.” I gave him a warm smile.

I’d been careful with Shawn. Deep down, he was a good guy; but he liked women. Chasing them, flirting with them… sleeping with them. Fooling around wasn’t in the cards for me. I’d been worried he’d hold that against me. He hadn’t. If anything, we had the beginning of a friendship.

“Still working on that song?” I pointed at the sheets spread across the table. I took a sip of Coke and let the bubbles tickle the inside of my mouth and wake me up.

“
Sweet Second?
Yes. I love it, Cass, it’s a winner. And I really enjoyed working on it with you.”

I’d written the lyrics one night when I was going through a bout of serious Josh withdrawal. It was about our second chance at love, our second chance as a family. Our second chance at everything. Later on, I’d sat down with Shawn and we’d started composing the music.

“I liked it too. It’s the first time I’ve ever shared my music with another musician. It’s kind of intimate.” I fidgeted on my seat and took another sip of my Coke.

“Just like sex.” Shawn nudged me with his feet under the table. It didn’t help with the heat creeping across my cheeks. “I’d like to do that again with you. Writing a song, I mean, because sex ain’t gonna happen. I got that message loud and clear.”

My eyes met his head on. “No. It’s never gonna happen.”

We settled into an uneasy silence. The rest of the guys were still sleeping off the booze from the night before. Last night must have been pretty wild, but I’d invested in the best earplugs.

“I want to sing
Sweet Second
with you tonight. On stage.”

Woo-hoo!
That was bumping up my ranking in the show big time. I was still the girl who was filling in for the guy who broke his leg. The one in the opening act and the sometimes-back-up. The Libs—and Shawn—were the hot ticket

“What are the other guys going to say? That’s not gonna fly with Geoff.” Geoff was in a bit of a power struggle with Shawn. .

Shawn took several sips of his coffee. I gulped down some more Coke. “We’re breaking up.”

“What?”

“It’s been festering for a while now. I’ve been offered a record deal. Will called me a couple of days ago to tell me. But it’s for a solo album.”

“Eek. You broke the news last night, hence the heavy boozing.”

“Hence the heavy boozing and the shouting and arguing.”

Grateful nod to my earplugs. “Congratulations.” I leaned over the table and squeezed his hand. “I’m happy for you. I’m sorry for the other guys, of course, but happy for you. Who did you sign with?”

Something shot across Shawn’s gaze. Gratitude? He gave me the name of the record company and I was speechless. He couldn’t get any bigger than that.

“Will you go up on stage with me tonight? We can use it as a trial run.”

“A trial run for what?”

“For tomorrow and Will. He’ll be in Vegas. I’ve told him you’re awesome and he liked what he heard back in Kansas City. I want to push
Sweet Second
with the studio. Hopefully we can try it as a duet.”

My Coke went down the wrong way and made me cough. And cough and cough.
Damn
, not the right time to look like I wasn’t quite right in my head.

“Sorry.” I put my hand on my chest to get the freak show inside me back under control. “That—That would be beyond my wildest dreams.”

“Calm down. I’m not at the stage when I can tell the studio what I want. But I’d love that song to be on the album. And if possible, you as well.”

I blessed that night back in Oxford when Sam had strong-armed me into singing as a warm-up for The Libs. It might have been one of those moments you looked back on later in life and say in a wise, old, croaking voice, ‘That’s when things started to happen. That’s when my life changed.’

“I’d love to sing
Sweet Second
with you tonight.” It was the best song I’d ever written, a bit too pop-rock, granted, but still my best one. I felt all antsy about going on stage to share it with the world. Anticipation crept from my stomach to my heart and all the way on up into my head. It got all fuzzy up there.

In the back of the bus, my cell beeped. And now I was antsier, but for different reasons.

“Go and check it. That husband of yours won’t survive long without hearing the husky sound of your voice.” Shawn put his hand over his heart as if in pain. I was already half-way down the corridor when he added, “Say ‘hey’ and ‘thanks’ from me.”

“Thanks? For what?”

“If he hadn’t screwed up in the past, I wouldn’t have one of my best songs today.”

I shuffled from side to side on my feet. Shawn had guessed
Sweet Second
was kind of auto-biographical.
Duh
, what else did I expect? The song was about two people getting married in high school, then losing each other, and finally getting back together.

“He didn’t screw up. I did.”

I reached my bed and crawled inside to hide. Curtain drawn, I checked my cell. My fingertips were tingling in anticipation. I needed to read his words.

Josh (7:34): Checking connections from Dulles to Phoenix. I HAVE to see you. Another day without you and I’ll be ready for the men in white coats.”

The gigantic smile that broke across my face must have been Joker-like. Second chances tasted real sweet. What was he going to say though about my next baby-step toward fame?

Except it wasn’t a baby-step anymore.

CHAPTER 10

Josh

There’d been Cassie’s flight to D.C. last week that had been delayed by three hours. Today, my flight to Phoenix had been unceremoniously cancelled. No reason given. Just fucking cancelled. I’d managed to book myself onto another flight later in the day. I’d make it, but only for her gig. I’d wanted to take her for dinner or something, but it wasn’t going to happen now. She was the warm-up act so I might not even be there in time to see her.

Luckily they were staying overnight at a hotel in Phoenix. A Phoenix hotel wasn’t where I wanted our second ‘first time’ to take place, but at least I’d have a few hours alone with Cass in my arms. It wasn’t much, but I’d take anything I could get at this stage. Beggars can’t be choosers and all that.

I didn’t pay attention to life outside the cab I’d managed to highjack at the airport. By the time we’d made it to the concert venue I’d stopped checking my watch as well. There was no need to. If I struck it lucky, the gig wouldn’t be over yet.

I handed a note to the driver. “Man, wait for your change,” he shouted after me, but I was already half-way out the door.

“Keep it.” I rushed inside the building.

I’d sworn to her that I’d be there to watch her sing, as I’d only seen her perform twice before. The first time at a fair near Steep Hill light years ago. The second time was back in Oxford. Not my best memory, but it had nothing to do with Cassie’s singing, and everything to do with finding out that I was a father. To a five-year-old boy named Lucas.

I hadn’t felt chipper that night.

The pounding in my head increased with each step I took closer the entrance. To get backstage I’d have to squeeze through the crowd. Inside it was as hot as the Arizona Desert. The Libs were working the crowd real hard. Music wasn’t really my thing—football was—but even I couldn’t help feel the electricity wiring through the room. And it was all because of Shawn.

The guy was good. Real good. I’d reached the front row and, instead of going backstage, kept watching the show.

Shawn had charisma. I’m sure chicks called it sex-appeal. The guy was meant to be on stage, either to play music or to deliver speeches to crowds. If he didn’t make it in music, he could go straight into politics. That realization didn’t settle well with me. That rock-god had shared Cassie’s living quarters for the last month and there were another two weeks to go. Thinking about this could make me crazy. So I decided not to think about it.

I readjusted the shoulder strap of my overnight bag, then started marching towards the passage that led backstage. It was easy enough to identify: a massive guy—the bouncer type—stood in front of it, arms crossed, face passive. I was about to show him my pass when Shawn drawled my wife’s name into the mike.

I paid attention. Acute attention. Cassie sauntered casually across the stage, her guitar strapped across her shoulders. She wore what I’d seen her wearing about a thousand times. Cowboy boots, denim skirt, a white, tight T-shirt. Her hair was down in its usual wavy way. Nothing had changed about her.

And everything had changed.

Chicks would call it charisma. I’d definitely call it sex-appeal. My jaw dropped like a fucking cartoon character. I was falling for my girl all over again.

I listened to the few words she huskily muttered to the crowd, but I didn’t really hear them. It was too much to ask my other senses to start working when my sight was already in overdrive. Just the way she leaned gently over to whisper into the microphone pushed me over the edge. It was something about the angle of her body. From where I stood, I had to look up at her, at the shape of her legs illuminated by the lights from the back of the stage and at the shadows the lights created around the strands of her hair.

When she launched into the song, my hearing switched up several gears. I’d listened to enough of her songs to recognize how she articulated her thoughts, how she rhymed and how she played.

And it didn’t take long to determine this one was about us.

The second time around

It’s the same sweet sound

Just more of you, more of me

To finally be free

I didn’t like it that she was up there with Shawn, but Cassie seemed so happy, so in her element, I pushed that small disappointment aside. After the song ended, I finally made it backstage. It was officially my first time there and I was clearly outside my comfort zone.

There was a squeal. “Josh!”

I spun round and stumbled backward because Cassie had thrown herself on me. Along with her guitar that was now sticking up against my chest. I forgot about it when her mouth landed on mine.

When we broke the kiss, she wriggled away from me, removed her guitar and set it down against the wall. “Did you hear the song? The whole song?” She was out of breath. I’d never seen her on such a high.

“I got here just before you started it. I’m sorry I missed the first act. My flight was delayed and I had to wait ages for a cab, and—”

Cassie’s mouth was back on mine. I wasn’t used to this level of PDA from her. Not that I complained. She looped her arms around my neck. She had to go on tip-toes, so I grabbed her thighs and lifted her up and around my body. People were hurrying along us and I heard a few whistles. The Neanderthal in me banged his chest.