My Life as an Album (Books 1-4): A small town, southern fiction series by Evans LJ

Author:Evans, LJ [Evans, LJ]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Tags: this life with cam, my life as a country album, new adult romance, road trip, sports romance, LJ Evans Books, coming of age, musician romance, slow burn, LJ Evans, inspirational romance, my life as a rock album, friends to lovers, boy-next-door, my life as a mixtape, broken artist, contemporary romance, death and dying, second chance, my life as a pop album, addiction, my life as an album series
Publisher: LJ Evans Books
Published: 2020-04-16T16:00:00+00:00

Letter Four

BORN TO BE MY BABY

“Only God knows the reason,

But He must’ve had a plan.

‘Cause you were born to be my baby,

And I was made to be your man.”

-Bon Jovi, Sambora & Child

Dear Bella,

I made ajiaco today because I had visitors. Cam’s little sister, or I guess her almost sister-in-law, came over with Keith. They came to pick up a new piece Dylan Waters’ wife commissioned. I don’t know how Mia got to L.A., or how she got entwined with the Waters, but it seems she’s dating Dylan’s musician brother. The one we saw at Dylan’s house this summer. The one that sang that song about humanity that made me ache for you and us.

That Mia’s world could come close enough to touch mine years later, made me wonder if there was a certain set of people whose lives would always crisscross our own—like a mixed-up pattern of figure eights. A series of infinity symbols running along curves that were destined to fall near each other as they passed the midpoints.

That thought gives me hope that, even though you’ve traveled away from me on your own curling loop, eventually you’ll travel back to me. I can only hope. Hope is a foreign emotion that you keep forcing on me.

Even though you didn’t know Keith, and I hadn’t seen him in years when I first met you, he is now one of a handful of people whose figure eight pattern is traveling with mine. He was happy to bring Mia to see the studio today. I think he’s trying to prove to the world that I’m not an asshole anymore. Unfortunately, we all know that it isn’t the truth. I’m still an asshole. You’ve just softened the edges of me.

But because he was trying and because I knew you’d want me to, I played nice.

I think I did you justice. I made Mia lunch, I showed her the studio, and she saw your chair. It’s still not done. Not fixed from what happened to it, but it’s close, and her touching it reminded me of you touching it when you’d seen it that first day together. Which just made me want her to leave so that I could write you this damn letter.

I hadn’t believed my luck when you actually showed up that first Saturday. I’d fluctuated from panic to the need to hunt you down as I waited for you. I made the ajiaco to keep me busy. When you finally showed up in that crappy Bug, I couldn’t prevent myself from going out to greet you, shoeless.

You were sitting there, with your head on the steering wheel, debating with yourself. Doubting why you had come. Later, after you’d allowed me to make love to you in a way that I’d never expected, I knew you would go back there. To the doubts.

I didn’t have any doubts. I couldn’t believe that you were lying there in my arms. Couldn’t believe just how good you felt there. I’d wanted you since I first saw your eyes flashing with anger at the gallery, but to have you there, it was like magic.

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