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I came here looking for something special. And I found it. Both personally and professionally. Hopefully I can convince her of the same. Because like hell if I’m going to let an artist like Annabelle get away, even if she wants nothing to do with me as a person.
Out of the crowd, Annabelle appears in front of me again. She’s weaving through the crowd, accepting praise from people as she walks by. But she still makes her way toward me.
“That was amazing,” I say.
“Thank you. Sorry I ran away, I had to get on stage. I figured it would be self-explanatory.”
I laugh. “Yeah, that was clear pretty quickly.”
She looks at me for a second, like she’s deciding something, and then, “Do you want to get a drink?”
“Yes.” The answer is instantaneous. I do want that. I want to get to know her again, and I need to find out if she’s interested at all in what I might be able to offer professionally. And more. Either way, I have to be careful.
We walk together toward one of the drink carts, slowly and shoulder to shoulder. It reminds me a little of our first date, way back when. We walked by the lake, both wanting the other to make a move, and neither wanting to be the first. Now, I’m not sure where we stand, and the fact that all of Green Hills is watching has me wary. I don’t think this town will forgive me if I break her heart a second time.
We get our beers and wander toward that same lake before we say anything.
“So,” she says, “how long are you here for?”
“A couple of weeks.”
I glance over and see her smile in the dim light. “Staying around for your birthday. Doing anything special?”
“You remembered that it’s my birthday?”
“Of course I did,” she says, taking a sip. Then softer, “I remember everything, Frankie.”
I remember everything too. I remember that her birthday is October twenty-second. I remember that her favorite color is purple and that she’s ticklish behind her knees. I remember that kissing her neck makes her moan in a way that makes me go blind with need. Details I didn’t even know I remembered are popping into my head: the constellation of freckles on her spine that remind me of the Big Dipper, and the way she cries at the happy endings of movies.
Fuck, I am in trouble. Because I can’t imagine my life with anyone else. I’ve been kidding myself otherwise for the past eight years.
“I’m so sorry, Anna,” I say.
She’s not looking at me. “Are we going to do this now?”
“Is there a better time to do it?”
A swig of her drink. “I guess not.”
“I was an idiot. The biggest of jackasses in the world to take you for granted that way, I want you to know that.”
“I already knew that,” she says with a small smile, “but it’s nice to hear you say it.”
I move closer, and she doesn’t pull away. I don’t want to scare her, but I can’t stand not being close to her anymore. Just barely a touch on her shoulder, and I press my lips to her temple. “I missed you, Anna,” I say softly.
“It’s been eight years. You never came to see me. Every time you were here, and I knew that you were here, you avoided me. Why should I believe that’s going to be different now?”
She has every right to ask that question. It doesn’t matter that she never came to see me either. I’m the one that fucked up. I should have said something. Anything. “Everything hurt,” I say. “The thought of seeing you, and the hurt that’d be on your face was too much. I didn’t want to relive you walking away from me all over again.”
Anger flares in her eyes. “Well it wasn’t that easy or that simple. You’re the darling of Green Hills, and everyone blaming me for you never being here. For leaving and going to be a star in Nashville and never coming back for more than a week. For driving you away. It was all my fault.” She turns her head away.
“That’s not true,” I say.
“I know, but it’s what everyone said.” She sighs, and breathes, the anger fading out of her again. I can’t imagine how many times she’s gone through this in her mind.
It’s a gift when she lets me toss my beer into the nearest trashcan and pull her into my arms—for real this time. “I’m sorry. I’ll do whatever it takes to make that up to you.”
She laughs, but it’s breathy. She’s affected by our closeness too. I can’t hide the fact that I’m hard because of her, but if she notices, she doesn’t say anything. She looks up at me and her face is unreadable. “Make it up to me. Is that it then? You’re going to sweep back into my life? Pick up where we left off?”
