One Forever Kiss (Affair Without End Book 4) by Susan Ward

Author:Susan Ward [Ward, Susan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2016-05-25T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Six

Everything felt off. For ten hours, Reggie and I slugged away in the dingy recording space in midtown that Columbia booked for us. Nothing we rolled tape on was worth shit, and it was uncomfortable being with Reggie when before it had been easier.

Maybe it was because even at night it was stifling hot. We were both edgy, barking at each other, and the collaboration process that once thrived between us just wasn’t there.

Reggie stopped playing midsong and said into the mic, “Why don’t we just call it a day? I can’t take it in here anymore.”

I shrugged. “Fine with me.”

I’d been ready to quit hours ago. July in Manhattan was a like sauna, and the ventilation system hadn’t worked all day.

I set my guitar in the stand for tomorrow. “You want to grab some drinks somewhere before heading home?”

His jaw tightened as he shook his head. “No man, I’m good, and you should probably go home to Lena. I’ll walk with you, though. I could use a walk after this.”

As I waited for him to get ready to head out—fuck, he took forever to get ready to do anything—I stood at the piano, thumbing through the black and white journal he carried everywhere. Most of what he wrote down didn’t make sense to me. But he also set down his lyrics and music there. His music definitely made sense to me. Reggie was fucking brilliant.

Patty was right; he did see things other people didn’t. It made who he was so much harder to understand.

“What is this?” I asked, and he paused in taking off his sweat-dripping shirt to look at what I was studying.

“Ah, that. Just a melody. Nothing really yet. I can’t seem to finish it.”

My chin jutted out as I played the music in my head. “‘Take Back the Dawn’?”

He pulled on a fresh shirt. “It’s yours, man, if you want to finish it. It probably belongs to you more than me anyway.”

Yep, it was what I thought. The wistful, quiet arrangement of notes. The title. It was about Lena.

“Fuck, finish it yourself. Then maybe we’ll have something decent to record.”

He poked me in the chest, took his notebook, and held it as a roll in his hand before he shoved it into my pocket. “Nope, if it’s going to get finished, you’ve got to do it, Jack. I won’t be here.”

Fuck. “I don’t get you, Reggie.”

He smiled, unruffled. “I know, Jack. And I don’t want to have an argument about the draft. Let’s just walk home together, a couple of friends like we used to be.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

He stared at me, and we both knew what he’d meant.

I exhaled heavily. “Am I that obvious?”

“Not obvious. You’re just Jack, like a clear water pond. Never murky. I always know exactly where you stand on everything. But you don’t see where everyone else stands on things. I think that’s why all us murky people gravitate to you. We see our flaws shining back from Jack, always good.

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