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Picking at the cheese board, she stared at Fletcher’s empty chair while he visited the restroom. She couldn’t quite believe that of all the towns in the world, hers was where Fletcher Kelley ended up. Besides, she wasn’t the first person to fall for a rockstar and definitely not the first to have the best sex of her life with one either. The difference was that she had a second chance and she wanted to make the most of it.
Movement in her periphery drew her attention to Fletcher’s tall form. Dressed in dark jeans and T-shirt with a black and white plaid shirt over it, he fit right in with the rest of the people. His shoulder-length hair and salt and pepper beard was what made him stand out. A small smile tugged at her lips as she tried to connect the rockstar from the past with the silver fox walking towards her. He’d grown up really well. His eyes met hers and he arched an eyebrow, clearly confused by her smile and Micah shook her head.
If she let herself enjoy this, she was going to fall head over heels for Fletcher all over again.
“You okay?” he asked as he pulled out his chair and sat down.
“Thinking about how good it is to be here with you.”
The wrinkles on his forehead smoothened out and his lips spread into a smile, making her heart trip over itself. Nobody would call Fletcher ‘classically handsome’, but he was the kind of attractive that would make you look twice.
Harriet returned with fresh glasses and a bottle of the fancy Blanc, poured some out for the two of them and made herself scarce. The chatter around them had been pretty steady since they arrived and she hadn’t even paid attention to the other guests. But as she sipped on the wine, watching Fletcher do the same, every sound and color came into focus.
“So,” he started, setting his glass down to lean forward. “You know all about me taking over for Hank at the store. What about you, why speech therapy?”
She swirled her wine, crossing one leg over the other as she relaxed in her chair. There wasn’t anyone new in her life that wanted to know why she picked the career she did, because everyone already knew enough about her. So talking about it felt weird.
“I grew up with a stutter that only got the attention of a teacher once I was in high school. Do you know how many kids are told that they’ll ‘outgrow’ their stutters?” she asked, throwing finger quotes around ‘outgrow’, because it was what her parents did. “You don’t really outgrow it, you become really conscious and scared and nervous around people who speak without any problems.
“I was bullied a lot for not being able to express myself confidently. Kids are really mean when they want to be and I wanted to help others like myself as much as possible. Not all speech therapists have had impediments or difficulties, so they might not really know what it’s like. But my therapist did and she helped me so much. I wanted to do the same thing.”
He nodded, his eyes fixed on her face. “Do you remember stuttering the night we met? You tripped over a few words and you looked so mad about it.”
“I remember.” She’d been embarrassed to be stuttering in front of him then, but ignored it. They’d fucked a few times by then, mouths having explored each other already. And then she had trouble with the simplest words. “I’m surprised you remember.”
“I remember a lot more than you realize, Mick.”
She bit down on her bottom lip, heart racing as she stared at Fletcher. It wasn’t only the words he used, it was the way he said it. His tone was firm, focus unwavering and he put emphasis on the nickname she gave him years ago instead of her full name. She had so many questions, so much she needed to know and understand. Micah wondered if they remembered the same things, if he sometimes dreamed about that night the way she did. Instead, she released her lip with a soft sigh, drawing his gaze to her mouth.
“Did you ever really imagine that you would retire from music and do…this?” Micah asked, needing to quickly step away from the intense way his attention and words made her feel.
He hesitated, eyes narrowing briefly before he shook his head. “I honestly didn’t think I’d retire. Truly believed I’d be playing music until the day I died. But I understood why the band needed time off, why they needed to take the break. Did I ever imagine moving to a small town to run my uncle’s music store? No. But I’m really glad that I made the move.”
“Me too,” she told him honestly, not even bothering to hide her blush or smile. “Emery is glad too. She’s in her rock phase of life and The Rescuers are her favorite band.”
“Kid’s got good taste. Speaking of phases, the first time I saw her she was decked out like Avril Lavigne, now she’s rocking this punk rock Barbie vibe.”
She laughed, surprised that he had caught onto what her daughter was doing. “I don’t even know where she comes up with these things, but since she was eight, Emery has tried everything. There was a time she thought she was a Tolkien elf and learned the whole language.”
“Fluently?”
She nodded, recalling the first time Emery had an entire conversation in Elvish. “I assume so. Once she commits to something, she goes all out.”
“That’s pretty impressive.” He sipped on his wine and then added, “Gotta admit though, seeing that Avril Lavigne outfit was a flashback I didn’t know I needed.”
“Right? I was so surprised when she showed up dressed that way one morning. I’m not even sure what prompted her to listen to that music, but she claims they’re all bangers.”
He laughed, wrinkles forming at the corner of his eyes and Micah hid her smile with her glass. Talking about her daughter was safe, because it took her away from those intense feelings she was trying to stuff down. Their conversation drifted into comfortable banter, discussing what it was like being a single mother and why she’d stayed in Sirena Beach when she could go anywhere else—“I lived in big cities and they’re too much for my quiet soul.” Most of her dates wanted answers to superficial questions like favorite movie or book, celebrity they most looked like, restaurant that was overrated. Fletcher had always found a way to get her to talk about the things that she thought to herself about regularly, never cared to voice them before.
The sound of someone tapping against a microphone drew their attention to the stage where four men in brightly colored shirts were setting up with their instruments. She had noticed the stage, but Micah didn’t realize that she would be treated to a live show as well.
“Hello Sirena Beach, we’re The Beach Quays. Hope you’ve drunk enough wine to get on the dance floor. We’ve got some originals, tons of covers and maybe even room for some special requests if you’re lucky. Now, empty those glasses and get ready to boogie!”
She grinned as the band launched into a cover of “Dance, Dance, Dance” by The Beach Boys. Fletcher was watching her as she shimmied in her seat and when she got to her feet, he shook his head. She held both hands out to him, swaying and wiggling in place, all while she smiled at him. A few people had already made their way onto the dance floor and she knew that if she could get this man on his feet, they’d have the best time ever.
“Dance with me, Fletch,” she pleaded, still grinning at him. And after what felt like forever, he put his hands in hers and she tugged him to his feet.
Joining the rest of the people on the makeshift dance floor, he wrapped one arm around her waist and held their other hands against his chest as they moved to the music. The band went through different genres, tempos and ranges and through it all, he held her as they danced. He twirled her out and back in, his hands always landing on her hips every time she was right against him. She wound her arms around his neck, head tipped back to stare into his eyes as the band performed “Songbird” by Fleetwood Mac. She mouthed the lyrics along with them, smiling when she realized Fletcher was doing the same thing. When the song ended, his forehead dropped to hers with a heavy sigh and before either of them could make a move, the lead singer was speaking again.
