"Thanks. I really appreciate it," I said gratefully. "Don't know what I'd do without you, Sunshine." She had no idea how true that statement was.
Nine days later, after touring a dozen or more places, we had found the perfect house. Six bedrooms, eight baths, four-car garage, with a gourmet kitchen that I would never use, a breakfast nook and formal dining room, a huge great room with a wall of windows facing the backyard, a media room, home office, library, gym, and a basement which could easily be converted into a sound studio. There was a swimming pool with a large deck surrounding it, a small pool house, and the backyard was beautifully landscaped with a stone path leading to an enclosed fire pit, and a variety of low maintenance drought-resistant plants and trees.
A high stone wall ran the perimeter of the back yard, connecting to the tall wrought-iron fence that surrounded the front of the house. The driveway was gated, and there was a state-of-the-art security system already in place. My offer was accepted within hours, and I would be able to move in two months or so, once it was repainted and had new flooring installed, along with a few other improvements I wanted to make. The construction of the sound studio would have to wait until I was living there, because I didn't want to stay in my current place any longer than I had to.
The new house was much bigger than I needed, but it would be perfect if I ever settled down and raised a family. Allie loved it, especially the kitchen and the master bathroom. There was a huge shower plus an over-sized soaker tub that Allie declared was "to die for". Truthfully, there was one other house that would have suited me just as well, but Allie liked this one better.
As we did the initial walk-through with the realtor, I had gotten a vision of Allie and Gracie living there with me. I had imagined Gracie coming home from preschool and having a snack on a stool at the kitchen island, teaching her how to swim, the three of us snuggling under a blanket for movie night in the media room. I found myself picturing Allie enjoying a bubblebath in the huge tub she loved so much - with her hair piled on top of her head, maybe a candle or two burning on the bathroom window sill, a glass of wine sitting on the edge of the tub, all those delicious creamy white curves on display - oh, fuck yeah! It was at that point that I had decided I needed to put an end to my little fantasy before I either embarrassed myself or grabbed Allie to kiss the hell out of her. I had to think back to the sight of Stripper Barbie to get rid of my raging hard-on, before Allie or the realtor noticed.
I had been thinking more and more about Allie lately, in ways that I knew I shouldn't. I'd missed her and Gracie so much while we were on the road. It wasn't too bad during the US leg of the tour since I was able to fly home every couple of weeks to spend at least a day or two with them. That just wasn't possible for the last three months though. The logistics of overseas travel, time differences and jet lag just didn't make it feasible to come home. We texted frequently and spoke often. My favorite conversations, though, were the those we had via Skype, when I could actually see her and Gracie. Allie was so damned beautiful; I could just stare at her for hours. I'd even had a few dreams about her. The things dream-Allie and I did in that Paris hotel room, God, I'd felt so guilty I couldn't even talk to her the next day.
I'd been drawn to her since the day we met, but it was just an abstract kind of fantasy then. She was happily married. Until she wasn't anymore. For the past year, I'd needed to keep reminding myself that she was still off-limits. It was probably good for my sanity that I'd been gone so much. Although I'd begun to get glimpses of the old Allie more often - and she was smiling again lately - she was still mourning Alex. I could understand that. She hadn't shown more than a passing interest in another manbeyond a couple of innocent meetups for coffee, as far as I could tell, and I'd been keeping tabs on that shit.
There had been more than a few motherfuckers who thought they could make a pass at what they assumed was the poor lonely widow, but Allie shot them down every time. I'd had a little talk with a couple of them when they didn't seem to want to take no for an answer. Asshole #1 was a drummer for another band Michael managed and Asshole #2 was the producer on our last album. Both of them were cocky bastards who couldn't believe they'd been turned down. I'd made them see the error of their ways.
Allie wasn't ready to move on, and I wasn't sure what to do with myself until she was. Even then, how could I risk our friendship, and my relationship with Gracie, on the off chance that Allie would want to try for a future with me. I was firmly trapped in the friend zone. Maybe I just needed to stay there.
