True L̶o̶v̶e̶ Story (24 page)

Some people are dancing up front. I can’t move. I don’t want to miss a thing.

All too soon, it’s over and Laila comes up to my table and sits down. I guess she’s ready to visit now. She has a really good buzz on her.

“You look awfully sexy tonight,” she slurs. “I bet Ian likes you in that dress.”

“Thank you.” I’m not sure if she’s complimenting me or not, but I don’t want to appear rude and give her anything to report back to Charlie…

We just sit for about fifteen minutes, watching the people around us empty out of the room. An usher comes to the table and says, “Mr. Sterling is asking for you to meet him behind the stage.” It reminds me of that night in New York and the gentle giant who led me to Ian. I stand up and so does Laila. I expect her to say goodbye and go on her way, but she doesn’t. Apparently, she’s going backstage with me.

When we get closer, Laila takes my arm and when we get to the door that says Green Room, she just opens the door without even knocking. Ian has his shirt off and is pulling another one over his head. He looks up, surprised.

“Hey, baby,” he says. “Laila? I didn’t know you were here.”

Laila looks between the two of us, her eyes narrowing, and I feel a déjà vu moment all over again. First Reagan and then Laila. What is everyone’s deal with me dating Ian? Is it because I’m so young? Not good enough for him? Too good for him? I wish someone would just spit it out already.

“Great show,” I tell him. “I loved it, Ian.”

“I’m so glad.” He looks pleased. He kisses my forehead and smiles at me. It’s a little awkward with Laila in the room.

“You two sure seem cozy,” she says.

“Yeah,” he says, “this girl is something else, Laila.” He grins proudly at me and turns to Laila. “No Jeff tonight?”

“No, you know him. He’s not much of a social bug. You sounded amazing, Ian. You’re such a rockstar. No one’s ever told you that, have they?” She laughs and gives an exaggerated turn, the kind where you give yourself away that you’re drunk.

Ian takes her arm. “You okay, Laila? You’re getting a cab, right?”

“The two of you were supposed to be coming to the house,” she says with a whine to Ian.

I had actually forgotten all about that. I guess in my sex-induced stupor, I had conveniently put that right out of my mind.

“We made other plans. I let you know that, Laila.”

“Well, that’s too bad. I was hoping to have you stay with me,” she puts her hand on Ian’s chest and leaves it there while she looks over at me. “Ian and I have been friends for a
long
time. Long before
Jeff
ever entered the picture.” She gives a dark laugh.

“I think you should get on home, Laila, it’s late. Jeff will be wondering where you are.” Ian leads her to the door.

“No, he won’t. You know that’s not true. Don’t patronize me, Ian!” Her voice is grating when she does the whine. She looks at me. “Sparrow. You’re too young to get caught up with this one, take it from me.” She pats Ian on the chest again and walks out of the room.

Ian looks angry as he talks to the guard outside the door and asks him to make sure she gets safely in a cab.

When she’s out of the door, he gives me a huge hug, his anger disappearing. “I’ve missed you,” he says.

“I’ve missed you, too. It feels like a long time since we were in our own little houseboat world.”

“Let’s get back to it.”

“I’m ready.”

That night after we make love and I fall asleep, I dream of the doors. The doors to Laila’s house. And when the door opens, it’s the Great American Music Hall green room and Reagan is inside with Ian. In my sleep, I try to change my dream, and it works. I try to reopen the door, and when I do, it’s Laila inside with Ian.

I wake up to Ian softly shaking me. “Baby, you all right? Are you dreaming?”

I try to focus on him and reach out for him, holding him tight. “Hey.”

“Hey—you ok? I thought you were dreaming a good one about us at first,” Ian says in my ear, “but then you were making this sad, whimpering sound. NOT the sounds you make with me.” He studies my face and kisses my nose. “You okay?”

I nod, still groggy.

“Come on, I want to do something.” He takes me by the hand and climbs out of bed.

“It’s the middle of the night.”

“It’s 2 A.M. We just had a little nap.”

Ian wraps a blanket around our shoulders and leads me down the stairs and out onto the main deck. It’s about as warm as it ever gets in San Francisco at night. The air is calm and the moon is split in two. Our houseboat is barely rocking, just enough to be soothing.

“It’s a perfect night for a swim.”

“Really, right now?”

He gives the blanket a tug and grabs my hand. We run off the deck and splash into the water. It’s COLD. The Pacific Ocean is not for the faint of heart. As soon as I come up, I’m shivering and shaking.

“In the moonlight, your lips look blue,” he whispers.

“That’s probably because they are! We’re gonna catch pneumonia.”

“Come here. I know how to warm you up.”

He wraps his body around mine and my body feels that sizzling burn. I have it so bad for this man. I can’t bear the thought of leaving him tomorrow, so I push it out of my mind and focus on the way his skin feels.

“I thought things weren’t supposed to work properly in such frigid temperatures,” I say between chills. “Oh, well, there you are. What? Are you just always up for it?”

“You haven’t been complaining,” he says as he drives himself into me.

“No.” Breathless.

“This is what you do to me, Sparrow.”

In seconds, I’m moaning and so is he, but quietly so we don’t wake the other houseboat residents. Three sea lions swim by and look at us curiously, but keep floating past.

“Next time, we can be as loud as we want and blame the sea lions,” I say, as he’s wrapping me back up with the blanket on deck.

He lets out a loud laugh that probably wrecked all our efforts anyway.

I love it when I surprise him.

- 18 -

Our last day on the boat has a more serious tone. For someone who is typically laidback, Ian even seems a little anxious.

My mind is made up.

I will not ask when I’ll see him again.

I will not think about what will happen when I let him go.

I will not let my perpetually moving brain drive me crazy. That will happen soon enough.

If I never saw him again, these days in our own little world have been enchanted enough to last my lifetime. I will never be the same. It’s just the way it is. I know it like I know books are meant to be savored and writing is what keeps me sane. It’s just true.

Ian is watching me pack. We’re in the main bedroom, and his things are already packed.

“You’re making me nervous.” I zip my suitcase and look at him.

“Why? I’m just looking at you for as long as I can,” he says.

“Ohhh-kay.”

He puts both hands up to his mouth and holds them there while he watches my every move. “I love how you sing your words. It’s like everything that comes out of your mouth is a song. You even make ‘okay’ sound exotic.”

I flush. “Oh please…” I mumble.

He leans up, elbows on knees. “Please what?”

“Please, don’t be ridiculous. If we’re talking about voices, everything that comes out of your mouth sounds like sex on a stick.”

He pounces on me, throwing me back on the bed. “Miss Fisher, you know what it does to me when you talk dirty.”

“Pssh. Me, talking dirty. I can only say sex and penis. Everything else is off the books.”

“Those are the only two words I need to hear,” he teases.

“You said I was the nut,” I say as I flip him over and get on top. My hair falls on either side of his face as I lean down to kiss him.

“I really wanted to do that pencil thing with your hair,” he says between kisses.

“Pencil thing?”

“Where we put it up and make you look like a librarian.”

My face hurts from smiling so hard. “Oh, I’m gonna miss you.”

He grabs my face and brands my lips with his. We make our last hour count.

I’m on the plane before I see Tessa. Ian and I were both running to separate sides of the airport. We took a little too much time saying goodbye. Tessa is in our row, practically hopping.

“You had me worried there, girl.” She helps get my stuff situated and gives me a long look. “Oh. My. God. It’s happened. There is no doubt this time. I know you’ve been gettin’ some lovin’.” She does a little dance with her arms as she says it.

I lean my head back on the seat and say, “I have so much to tell you. I don’t even know where to begin. I’m exhausted.” I look at her then and raise an eyebrow. “From all the lovin’.” I flash her a smile showing every tooth possible.

“WOOOOO!” She yelps, causing all the passengers to turn toward us, their faces expressing everything from good humor to aggravation. “Good news,” she says to anyone whose eyes linger longer than a second, pointing to me. “Good. News.”

I cover my face and laugh.

I try to act like I’m too tired to talk and not going to share such intimate details, but by the first half hour, she’s gotten a lot out of me.

“Sterling the
Stud
.” She grins approvingly. “You can just tell by looking that he knows what to do with what he’s been given,” she says with a sigh. “But the
endurance
!” She says it so emphatically that we both get choked up laughing. “I’m serious, Ro. No, really. You just don’t know how lucky you are to get such a
stallion
.” We lose it again. She’s not done. “I mean Jared loves the sex, but he didn’t even do that in the very beginning! Listen, not every guy can keep it up after that many times.” She shakes her head.

“I knew I should have waited to tell you when we were on the ground.” I have to fan myself with the Skymiles magazine. She’s killing me.

“There was no holding that news off. It is shining on your face to beat the man.”

“Beat the band.”

“Yeah, that too.”

Getting back to our apartment is bittersweet. I’m happy to be with Tessa and even New York, but my mind is still living on that houseboat. It takes a good week for me to wipe the dreamy look off my face. Tessa is teasing me mercilessly, and I don’t blame her. I am reliving every moment with Ian.

The night after I get back, I’m in bed and on the phone with Ian. He’s been sweet and it just makes me miss him more.

Before we hang up, he throws out: “You’ve ruined me.” His voice is playful.

“Oh yeah?”

“The guys are calling me Red Raw. Red Raw Bows, to be exact.”

“Ha, Red Raw Bows? Why?”

“My elbows are bright red, like carpet burn …
raw,
” he says and pauses.

I chuckle, but I don’t get it.

“From spending so much time on my elbows the last few days?”

Suddenly, I picture him leaning over me, propped up on his elbows, gazing at me with his fathomless eyes, kissing me all over …

“Oh … ohhhh.” I giggle. “Ouch. Um, sorry…”

“Are you kidding? I’m wearing my casualties proudly. I’ve never had red raw bows before.”

“Hmm. So a first for you?”

“
You
are a first for me, Sparrow.”

After a couple days of looking, I get a part-time job at a coffee shop in the Village. It’s the perfect job for me. It’s busy, not long enough to be overwhelming, and it leaves me enough time to write in the afternoons. Professor Shutes, from one of my creative writing courses, really encouraged me to take an assignment I turned in to her and consider expanding it into a novel. I was floored. I thanked her profusely and promised I’d show her something in the fall. Just knowing I am accountable to her helps spur me on. I’ve been working on it every day, and I’m feeling really good about it.

So my life is busy, but dull in comparison to my time with Ian. We talk all the time, but it’s just not the same as being with him. I work and write and talk on the phone and text and see Tessa and Jared and turn down dates from guys … even though, the way we technically left it, Ian and I are “free” to date other people.

I don’t like being in a long-distance relationship. I hate it. But it’s a world better than those stretches where I didn’t hear from him and didn’t know what he was thinking. Anytime I’m really heartsick for him, I think about how much worse that was. At least now I know he’s wishing he could be with me. That’s what I tell myself, anyway, when I’m staring longingly at all the cute couples that come in the coffee shop together. Seeing all the hand-in-hand people in love … the long kisses in the subway … it’s a lonesome feeling.

The days both drag and fly by. Before I know it, it’s the end of August. It’s been close to two months since I’ve seen Ian and things are going well, but it’s time to see him. Lately, I’ve been a bit testy with him on the phone. I’m walking home from work and he calls.

“What are you doing this weekend?”

“Uh, well … I’m off work, so I was just gonna write.”

“I thought this was your weekend off,” he sounds relieved. “Okay, I wanted to check first before I just bought the tickets, but—can you meet me in L.A.? Thursday to Monday maybe? My gig was canceled Friday night and I’ll have the house to myself. Jeff and Laila won’t be there right now. Come on, I need to see you, and you can write there, too—” he says in one breath.