Chapter 16

Evan plucked the strings on the guitar in his music room, ignoring his phone and Carl’s insistence he open the door. He didn’t normally throw temper tantrums, but the last eleven days in LA had been some of the most maddening of his life.

He’d held meetings right here in this room with just the core five members of Georgia Panic. No girlfriends. No wives. No kids. No managers. No brothers. Just the five of them.

He wanted to go back to Getaway Bay and the vacation he’d been promised. It didn’t seem fair that he’d only gotten a couple of weeks with Riley and the beach before having to deal with his career again.

He didn’t whine about it anyone, though. After all, no one wanted to listen to a spoiled rockstar complain about having to work. And he wasn’t really complaining. He just felt the chasm between him and Riley growing with every day he stayed in Los Angeles.

And he didn’t want to attend another meeting. Or take another phone call from some executive at the record label across the country. He didn’t want to go to another dinner, and have another discussion.

So he’d locked himself in the music room, and he was playing and writing songs the way he wanted them. There was no pressure to make amazing singles and come up with lyrics and beats and chords no one else had heard when he was alone in the music room.

Besides, this song currently flowing from him would never make it onto any album. It was for Riley, and she would be the only one he’d sing it for. He leaned over and made a few notes on the stand in front of him, adjusting the tempo and jotting down the notes in his head.

He plucked them on the guitar next, feeling the vibrations move through him. This song was more of a ballad, like what someone might dance to. He could feel Riley in his arms, swaying with him as he started to sing.

Evan knew he had a gift for songwriting. He’d always known it. The ability had been born inside him, and he’d worked over the years to bring it out, let it flow, and capture the deepest emotions he could.

He’d paired up with other talented musicians, and he’d spent his life doing exactly what he’d always dreamed he would—sharing music with others.

Carl had stopped pounding on the door, and Evan let the last of the music flow through him. He wrote everything down and closed the red and white striped notebook on the stand. No one ever came in here, so he left it where it was and went to leave the room.

Surprisingly, Carl wasn’t standing in the hallway waiting for him, and Evan went downstairs to find his brother. He pulled his phone out of his back pocket and found dozens of texts. He skipped all of them except Brett’s, who’d said he and Carl were going to the meeting and they’d simply say he wasn’t feeling up to it.

Oh, and they’d bring dinner back.

“Great,” Evan muttered to himself. He’d been in the music room for hours, and he didn’t care about yet another meeting with yet another stuffy suit who wanted to dictate to them how and when and what kind of music Georgia Panic should make.

As he was still staring at his phone, another message came in. You didn’t go to the meeting either?

Evan called Dan instead of texting him back. As their lead guitarist, Dan had mad skills with his fingers. He didn’t say much in meetings, but Evan had learned to read his thoughts and mood on his face. He didn’t like what had been happening the last several days either.

“I didn’t go,” Evan said. “I just couldn’t. We’ve said what we wanted to say, you know?”

“I hear you, brother,” Dan said. “DJ boycotted it too. Peter said he’d go, but Hank actually left town today. He said his kids have some fall concert they’re doing, and he’s not missing it for this.”

“Good for him,” Evan said, wondering if he could pick his bandmate’s brain about maintaining a relationship and a family while being in a band. Evan had never given the topic much thought, but if things continued with Riley, he suspected he might have some juggling lessons to learn.

“Want to get dinner?” Dan asked.

“Carl and Brett went to the meeting,” Evan said. “They said they’d bring dinner home.” He suddenly didn’t want to eat whatever they brought him and listen to them detail the meeting. “So yeah, let’s go to dinner.”

Dan laughed, and Evan smiled while he tried to remember where he’d stowed the keys to any of the cars or motorcycles in the ten-car garage behind the house. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d been in Malibu, which was why it had taken some convincing for the security detail to let him inside the house, despite his lack of a key.

He’d had ID though, and in the end, he’d gotten inside before Carl knew he’d misplaced his house key—again.

“Jane’s?” Dan asked, and Evan agreed readily. The small restaurant was always busy, but never crowded. They could sit in a corner booth and just eat without having to fill every moment with chatter.

“See you in an hour,” Evan said, and he hung up. While he lived in the house, he employed people to help out. He maintained the maid service biweekly even when he wasn’t living in the house. Maybe one of them had seen his keys…

He called the service and asked, and sure enough, their supervisor said the keys had been placed in a sectioned plastic box in the top drawer next to the fridge. When Evan opened the drawer, he found each key slot labeled with the type of car or truck or bike it started.

“Perfect,” he said, wishing his mind worked in such an organizational way. But it so didn’t. He chose a key for a sporty convertible, as it was decently warm in LA, even though October had arrived.

As he drove down the winding roads out of the hills and toward the freeway that would take him to Jane’s, he only had one thought: I wish Riley were here with me.

He’d contemplated a lot over the past eleven days, and one of those things was to ask her to come with him. They didn’t have to get married right away. He owned a house with seven bedrooms, for crying out loud. Or she could get her own place in town. Or live in the pool house. The options really were endless.

“She won’t give up her job,” he told himself for the tenth time as he made the turn to get on the freeway. She wouldn’t have to work at all, but Evan knew Riley well enough to know she couldn’t just lie by the pool every day. A day here or there, yes. But not every day.

She liked being busy, and she was very good at her job.

“She could get a job here,” he said next, because in his world, everything was so simple. But again, he knew when it came to Riley, nothing was very simple. How he felt about her was complex, and how she viewed their relationship was too.

Being separated from her had actually been good for Evan, because it had shown him that he really liked this woman as a person. Not just because she was gorgeous and fun to kiss, though she was both of those things too.

He liked talking to her on the phone, and listening to her tell stories about her co-workers, her friends, the island, her nieces and nephews. He told her things too, and it felt so nice to share his life with someone. Have a real friend.

Of course, his bandmates were friends too, but he wasn’t going home to any of them at night. No, he wanted to go home to Riley at the end of every day.

“Going home,” he said as the sign for Jane’s came into view. “That’s the name of the song.” A smile danced across his face. Naming songs wasn’t usually his forte, but hey, this one felt right.

He pulled into the parking lot at the same time he got a text. You’re still singing at the wedding, right? Charlie had asked.

Of course, bro, Evan tapped out quickly. When is it again?

Very funny. Charlie sent an eyerolling emoji. It’s December fifteenth.

I’ve got it on my calendar, Evan said. Can’t wait! Do you have any special requests? What’s Amelia’s favorite song?

I’ll get back to you, Charlie said, and Evan took that to mean his friend didn’t know his fiancée’s favorite song. For some reason, that made him chuckle, and he wondered what Riley’s was.

Dan waited on the sidewalk in front of the restaurant, but Evan took another moment to text Riley quickly.

What’s your favorite song?

Then he went to meet his friend, glad he and Riley would have something to talk about later. Something that meant a lot to him—music.

***

Four days later, he touched down in Getaway Bay, a huge sense of relief covering him. He also knew he’d have a piper to pay once Carl found out he’d skipped town. But he was forty-two years old, and Greg could text him when the next offer came in from TriCities. He didn’t need to lounge around in Malibu to get a text.

So he’d packed his bag and driven himself to the airport while Carl slept. And now he was back on the island where Riley was, fifteen days after he’d left.

He’d texted her that he was coming, and he hoped she’d be waiting for him down by the baggage claim. He didn’t see her as he passed by the people going into the airport, and he didn’t see her as he waited for his luggage.

Once he’d gotten his bag, he turned again, trying to find her.

“Excuse me, sir?” a woman asked, and Evan paused. He really didn’t want to sign autographs right now. He just wanted to see Riley, and hold Riley, and kiss Riley. Then he wanted to disappear behind closed doors and take a nap.

He thought of Brett, and what his brother would expect from him. Then he put a smile on his face and turned toward the voice.

“I think you dropped this.” Riley held up a watch, but it certainly wasn’t his. Her whole face burst into a smile, and Evan started laughed.

“There you are,” he said, grabbing onto her and swinging her around. “Oh, it’s so good to see you.” He took a deep breath of her skin and hair, getting floral and fruity notes. Everything inside him rejoiced, and he felt himself falling more and more in love with her. He tried to pull himself back from that cliff, but it was useless.

He righted her and swept one arm around her to keep her close. Leaning down, he kissed her right there in the airport. He didn’t care who saw. Didn’t care if they took pictures on their cell phones and posted them online.

Riley didn’t let him get too out of control before she put her hand on his chest and pressed him back. “You made it. How was the flight?”

“Flight was fine,” he said, looking around for his bag. He pulled out the handle and secured his free hand in hers. “Tell me you have food nearby.”

“At my house.” She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, and Evan noticed something different about her.

“You’re not wearing tons of makeup,” he said.

“Yeah,” she said. “Going a little more natural these days.”

“I like it,” he said. “I liked the other eye makeup too. They’re both nice.”

Riley burst out laughing, and Evan was glad she hadn’t taken offense. “I feel like you’ve changed,” she said.

“I haven’t. Still me.” He stuffed a ballcap on his head as they went outside, and Riley drove them from the airport on the east side of the island to her house which sat on the west coast. He told her why he’d left, and how nothing had really been set in stone as far as a contract went.

She said very little, but she seemed attentive and interested in his business. Why, he wasn’t sure. The business side of the band bored him to no end. It was the creating, the writing, the performing that Evan liked.

“Here we are,” she said, pulling up to her small house practically swallowed by the jungle.

Evan peered out the windshield. This house was perfectly Riley. He grinned at her and got out of the car, taking in a deep breath of the island air. “It smells so good here,” he said.

She led him down a path to the front door, the foliage of Hawaii almost reaching out and touching him. “It’s not much,” she said. “But I like it.” Her house was spotless, of course. Evan wouldn’t expect anything less from her. Comfortable couches filled the living room where they stood, and Riley went past them into the kitchen.

“I’ve been here before,” he said, stepping inside and closing the door as the cats started rubbing against him. “Remember I took pictures of the heels?”

“Oh, right.”

He followed her into the kitchen, noting that the table was set for four for a reason he couldn’t name. In fact, he’d only ever seen that in pictures for vacation rentals or on real estate websites. “The best pizza on the island,” she said, bringing his attention back to her. “We can eat on the lanai. You can see the ocean from here.”

“Can’t wait,” he said, picking up a paper plate and loading it with pizza. She led him through a wall of windows to the lanai, which had comfortable patio furniture on it. The view was spectacular, with the ocean seemingly within his reach.

“Wow,” he said, drinking in the view. “And it’s so quiet.”

“I have neighbors,” she said. “But they’re about fifty feet away.”

“Nice.” He sat down at the table with her, and they started eating. “How big is it?” he asked.

“Two bedrooms, two bathrooms.” She shrugged. “It works for me. It was the first house I bought, and I’ve fixed it up a little.”

“More than a little,” he said. “Everything in there is like, brand new.”

“It is not.” She rolled her eyes. “It’s just clean, Evan.”

“Hey, I have a housekeeper,” he said, bursting into laughter in the next moment.

Riley just shook her head and ate her lunch. Evan was supremely glad he’d flown back on a Saturday, because he’d get to see her more. “Tell me what’s been going on here,” he said.

“Not much,” she said. “Same old, same old. There aren’t as many tourists on the island right now. That’s kind of nice. My friends keep trying to get me to enter the pumpkin-carving contest Sweet Breeze is hosting.” She giggled. “But I’ve seen those pumpkins, and there’s no way I’d win.”

“Hmm.” Evan finished his pizza and wiped his fingers on a paper towel. “Do you only do things you know you’ll win?”

Her gaze flew to his, pure shock in those lovely eyes. “Of course not.”

“Maybe we should do the carving thing together.”

“Can you carve a pumpkin?”

“I mean, I did as a kid.”

“Oh, so you’re an expert then.” She smiled and those eyes glittered, and Evan was so glad to be here with her.

“I missed you, you know.” He leaned toward her, beyond thrilled when she met him halfway and kissed him like she missed him too.