“Your home is absolutely stunning, Mrs. Taylor,” I gush.
“Trish,” she reminds me. “And don’t think I’m going to let you get away with not teaching me a thing or two while you’re here. It’s not every day I get to have a professional chef in my kitchen.”
“It’d be my pleasure,” I say. Trish grins at me. Unlike her son, she has not one but two dimples that form deep indentations oneither side of her mouth. Jake presses his hands against the kitchen counter, hoisting himself up to sit on the marble.
“Now, what can I fix y’all to drink?” Trish asks. “How ’bout a sweet tea?”
Jake claps a hand over his heart.
“Thought you’d never ask.”
AFEW MINUTES LATER,we’re all happily settled in on the enclosed back porch. I tuck my feet under myself as I take a hearty sip from my glass.
“God, I’ve missed this,” Jake confesses, draining his tea in a single gulp and then grabbing the pitcher to pour himself a refill.
Trish beams. “Good to know that no matter how famous you get, you’ll never get tired of your mama’s sweet tea.” She grins at me. “I know it’s only August, but since Jacob’s schedule is so busy, I decided to make a small-scale Thanksgiving dinner tonight. Just in case he’s not around in November.” She flips her wrist over to glance at her watch. “Speaking of which, it’s nearly two. We’d better get started on that turkey.”
“You haven’t started it yet?” I clamp my hand over my mouth the second the words leave my lips, startled by my own bluntness. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to be so rude. It’s just… it takes half a day to roast a turkey.”
Jake and his mother exchange a look and then burst into laughter. His eyes travel to mine, amusement dancing across his handsome face.
“Welcome to Georgia,” he says. “Down here, we deep fry our turkeys. It’ll only take an hour.”
When we finish our teas, Jake leads me down the porch steps and into the backyard to set up the deep fryer. He places a burner onto a bed of rocks and connects it to a propane tank, whileexplaining how he uses a level to make sure it’s straight. He dries the pot before adding oil and positioning it on top.
“I thought you said you didn’t know how to cook,” I say as I watch him submerge the turkey.
“This ain’t cooking… it’s deep frying.” His accent has deepened since we’ve gotten here, but it’s not the only thing that’s changed. His entire body has visibly relaxed, like he’s more comfortable, more himself than I’ve seen him in a long time. I suppose at home, he gets to take a break from being Jake Taylor, rock star, and just be Jake. He grins at me, and for the first time in a long time, I see the boy who smiled at me in the bar all those months ago.
“Jacob! Daddy is home.”
Jake’s back stiffens for a moment, and he lets out a breath. Flipping the fryer off, he grabs me by the hand, and leads me up the staircase of the deck and into the living room.
Stepping inside, I notice the room is warm and tastefully decorated, the walls painted a soothing shade of silvery blue that’s paired with a coordinating rug and overstuffed beige furniture. A middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair is pacing in front of the brick-lined fireplace, brows knit together as he studies the cell phone in his hand.
“Hi, Dad,” Jake says as he steps into the room. He walks over to his father, giving him an awkward, one-armed hug. I notice with a frown that the embrace seems strained, distant somehow.
“Play us a song, Jacob?” Trish has materialized at my side. She rests a hand lightly on my elbow, but her eyes are fixed on her only child.
Jake lets out a groan. “Even at home, there’s no rest for the weary.” But the contented expression on his face belies the sentiment, and he strolls over to the piano in the far-right corner of the room. Tucking himself onto the bench, he flexes his hands and then brushes his long fingers across the keys. Lifting his head, he meets my eyes. “I know just the one,” he says softly.
He drops his chin, brow creasing in concentration, and the air whooshes from my lungs as the opening notes of “Edelweiss” drift into the air.He remembered.
I’m frozen in place, hot, unexpected tears prickling the back of my eyes at the familiar melody, and a knot forms in the center of my chest. There’s so much that I want to say, but when I finally manage to form words, the only thing that comes out is, “I didn’t know Jake plays piano.”
Trish nods. “Oh, yes. Jacob plays many instruments. The guitar, the piano, the tuba.”
“The tuba?” I let out a tiny breath of laughter and the pressure in my chest loosens a fraction. Trish shakes her head ruefully, a smirk playing on her lips. “Yep. Of all the instruments to pick for the high school band, that’s what he went with.”
Jake’s deep, gravelly voice lilts through the air, and his eyes squeeze shut as he drops his head back. Powerless to look away, I relinquish myself to the pull of his orbit, my eyes drinking in every detail of him. The silky brown hair that curls lazily around one ear. The square line of his jaw. The flutter of his pulse beneath the tender skin of his neck. The shifting of his back muscles beneath his shirt. The tendons in his forearms that ripple as his long fingers dance gracefully across the ivory keys. I feel my own limbs grow heavy, the world around me becoming hazy as everything but Jake melts away.
Through my dreamlike state, it occurs to me that I’m witnessing something rare and special, something that most people never get to see. Jake’s fans worship him; they may even think they love him. But the truth is, you can’t love someone you’ve never met. They’ll never get to see what I see, all the little pieces that compose the incomparable magic of the man in front of me. The real Jake. Because he is so much more than a celebrity. He is everything.
By the time he finishes playing, glancing up at me with a sheepish grin, I can’t even speak.
“That was… beautiful,” I muster through dry lips, aware that I am sinking into the chocolate depth of Jake’s eyes as they bore into mine. I’m not sure how long we stand there, staring at each other, before Jake’s father clears his throat.
“Well, are we having Fake Thanksgiving or not? I don’t know about y’all, but I’m absolutely starved.”
