29
NIKKI
I’m curled up on my couch in my living room with a glass of wine and a book calledTransform Your Guilt. Maybe I’m being an overachiever; I feel like I’ve already learned a lot from Eve. And from myself.
I cock my head. Is that music outside? Weird.
I live on a tiny street, more like a lane, with only three houses. The neighbors aren’t partiers. Maybe I’m imagining the sound.
I go back to my book.
The music gets louder. Someone is singing and not very well.
Has some drunk found their way up here from Laurel Canyon Boulevard?
Unlikely.
I set my book down on the couch and stand. What do I do? I don’t really want to encounter some hoodlum when I’m here by myself. What are they doing?
It’s a dilemma, because my house has no windows onto the street, for privacy. All the windows are on the other side to take advantage of the view. I go to the door and crack it open to listen.
“You’re in the silence, in the rain, in every dream I can’t explain.”
My head jerks back and my eyes shoot open. Whaaat?
It’s a male voice, and he’s singing my song.
“Though you’re far away, one truth remains…”
I unlock the door and whip it open.
It’s not totally dark yet although the sun has set, and I can make out the man standing on the concrete pad in front of my house. He’s got a—what is that? A boombox?—held in both hands above his head. It’s not actually him singing, the music is playing from the boombox, but… it’s his voice.
Marek.
I stare at him, at a loss for words.
“I still feel you in my heart.”
My heart springs into a wild rhythm. Our eyes lock across my driveway in the dusk, his gaze steady, face unsmiling, holding up the portable stereo. I listen to the rest of the song, a hot softness ballooning in my chest.
You’re the only love I’ll ever know.
I’m still yours… just so you know.
No matter where this road may go,
I’m still yours… just so you know.
The song ends and I press my fingers to my lips. “Is that you, John Cusack?”
He laughs softly and walks closer. “Thank God I have the right house. This place is a maze of tiny roads.”
I watch him, my heart bumping, my knees wobbling. He’s so, so handsome and precious. I’ve missed him so much. And I run to him.
The boombox crashes to the ground. He hoists me up against him so my feet don’t even touch the ground, and our mouths meet. I’m crying; my face is wet and so is his as our mouths cling together hungrily. A sob rises in my throat and I rain kisses all over his face—his cheeks, his temples, his eyes. “Marek.”
“I’m here.”
