While Jack poured us generous glasses of wine, I kicked off my shoes and tucked my feet beside me on the couch. I took a moment to appreciate the wine, smelling and sipping. A great deal could be forgiven with the offering of pizza and a good wine.
“So, long time no see, Eve. Did you miss me?” Jack’s eyes crinkled up as he smiled while taking a bite of pizza.
“Wow, it’s been almost a whole three days, Jack. In that time, I only had to call the suicide hotline twice. But I think I’m handling the separation a little better now.” I’m pretty sure he picked up on the dryness of my tone.
“Now that I’m here, you mean.” His face showed he was only too pleased with himself as he reached across me to grab a breadstick.
“Of course that’s what I meant, Jack. How could I possibly survive without you?” I asked sarcastically.
“Well, besides pining for me, what have you been doing?” he asked with raised brows.
“It’s been just like an amusement park. Laundry, shopping, hitting the gym, calling my grandmother. You know. Your basic thrill ride.” I sipped my wine and helped myself to a cookie. Dang these were good! They just melted in your mouth with a whisper of sweetness.
“Calling your grandmother? Did you tell herallabout me?” His waggling eyebrows showed he was amused. And possibly referencing the fact that we’d shared a bed for two nights. Little knowing that was something she’d cheer on. Grandmère was always worried about my love life, wanting to see me settled with someone.
“What have you been doing, Jack?” It struck me that while he knew quite a bit about me, I knew very little about what his life was like.
“Oh, mainly practicing. We’ve got a concert coming up and the guys aren’t too pleased that I took off. I’ll have to do a bit of groveling, and a lot of practicing, to get back in their good graces.”
“Where do you practice?” I wanted to get a clearer picture of what his days were like.
“We’ve got a great converted loft space. You should come see it sometime!”
I took another cookie and another sip of wine. “That would be fun.”
He flashed me a smile, pleased with my answer. Seeing that I was on to dessert, Jack closed the lid on the pizza box and turned to me. “Do you like to dance?”
“As a matter of fact, I do.” My college boyfriend and I had loved dancing together.
Jack stood up, wiped his lips and fingers on a napkin and held out his hand to me. “May I have this dance, Miss Lambert?”
I laughed. “What? Here? We have no music.”
“Easily remedied,” he replied and pulled out his phone. Flicking through several screens, he found one that made him smile and hit play. I took his hand and rose as the lilting melody of Michael Bublè’s “Everything” filled the room.
Jack drew me toward him and placed his free hand on my waist. In such close proximity, I was overwhelmed by his masculinity, his firm yet gentle grip on me, his woodsy cologne, and his dark eyes, looking intently into mine. My heart rate accelerated, and I felt a bit dizzy.
To lighten the moment I said, “Michael Bublè? I wouldn’t have figured you for a fan.” My voice sounded high and breathy.
“I love good music. All kinds of music. Some more than others, but I appreciate lovely tunes and well-crafted lyrics. And I’m somewhat lazy, so I appreciate it when someone’s already put my thoughts to music.” I mulled that over as I listened to the words. Did he mean that he’dchosen those words for me?
He pulled back and gave me a careful spin before clasping me in his arms and swaying again. With a smile he asked, “What? Did you think I only listen to my own music? That’d be a bit narcissistic, wouldn’t it?” Pulling me closer, he rested his head on top of mine and I leaned my head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. Being in his arms felt incredible, like I was safe and warm. He gave me another spin and then ended the song with a low dip. As he pulled me up, I was laughing and flushed, both from the wine and the dancing. And his touch.
He picked up his phone, turned off the music and pocketed it. The silence blossomed between us. I felt unsure what to do. Was he expecting something from me? He gave me a considering look then went over to the coffee table. We’d polished off the bottle of wine, but there was still pizza in the box.
“Would you like this?” he asked politely.
“No thanks. I’m full.” I answered, still feeling awkward.
“Ok, I’ll feed it to Animal.”
“Animal? Is that your dog?”
He laughed heartily. “No, Animal is my drummer. He has wild, red hair and is a little bit crazy, so I call him Animal, like the Muppets. He’s also my human garbage disposal. He’ll eat anything. If I bring him cold pizza tomorrow, he’ll treat me like a king. Well, in reality, that means he won’t throw his sticks at me when I piss him off.”
“Sounds like your band relationships are…interesting.”
“You have no idea, Eve,” he chuckled.
