Page 61 of In This Together

Babe, I’m gonna love you anyway’

Then, as he continued to play, Andrea picked up a guitar and, following his sequence, picking up his rhythm, she played in harmony as he continued to sing.

‘You should key change there,’ she said, ‘right after the second verse. Play it out and let the story sink in. Try this.’ She strummed a key-changing chord progression.

‘Yeah, yeah,’ Tommy said, picking up again, improvising with a hum in place of lyrics. ‘I like it.’

They played and sang and wrote, lost in a bubble, where no one could reach them. All the while, Rocky the dog lay on the floor, listening. Andrea fell in love, with the idea of a home, with a dog, and a husband who didn’t want to take from her, who wanted to be a team. With the idea of making music for the rest of her life with a man she respected and admired.

And when she realised that, she hung her guitar back in its stand. Because things didn’t last. People didn’t stay. Love didn’t last. When it died, it hurt. It hurt so fucking much.

‘I should go.’ She pushed her hands into her pockets, suddenly not sure what to do with them. ‘I’ll see myself out. Thanks, ah, for today. I, ah, bye. Bye, Rocky.’

She broke free of the music room and almost ran for the door of the apartment, stopping to pull on her shoes.

‘What are you so afraid of?’ Tommy’s voice was calm and controlled and too close behind her.

She turned to him. ‘Who said I was afraid?’

‘You did. Every time you leave. Every time you catch yourself smiling and force yourself to stop.’

‘Yeah, well, I’m not afraid. The fact is, Tommy, we… we have great sex but that’s… that’s all it is.’ She looked to her toes, feeling vulnerable, fragile. She hated it. ‘Look, you’re… you. And I’m… me.’

He stepped towards her, bringing a hand to her cheek. She felt the nubs of his fingers, warm from guitar strings. She felt the heat of his palm against her cheek.

Why had she come here? What had she been thinking when she made that call? Why was it that he was the one person she seemed to be able to be herself with, or at least have a shot at working out who herself really was?

She felt his lips press against her closed eyelids and her body melting into his hold. ‘Stay,’ he whispered. ‘Stay now and wake up here tomorrow.’

His lips met hers – slowly, tentatively. ‘Stay,’ he said again.

‘I can’t.’

He kissed her again, kissing away her conviction. ‘Stay.’

‘I can’t.’

But his next kiss took away her fears.

She opened her eyes to find his bright blue irises full of strength, hope, heat. She took his lip between her teeth and tugged, then his hands were in her hair, gripping as he devoured her mouth with his, holding on as if he’d never let go.

Every reason she had not to be there, in that moment, in his arms, disappeared. All she wanted was to feel his skin against hers, for him to fill her, consume her.

She wanted more of this. She wanted more of him. Her heart swelled in her chest as the rest of her felt simultaneously satisfied and longing. He kissed her briskly, then took a breath and kissed her again. And again. Until her arms were wrapped around his neck and he was carrying her to his bedroom.

* * *

She woke in the middle of the night. Tommy’s bedroom was tinged blue by the low floor lighting outside the room, seeping through the gap under the door. From under Tommy’s hold, she reached out and found his cell phone on the side table. It was 03.18. She should go.

Then a long, strong arm snaked around her, took the cell phone from her and set it back on the side table.

‘Don’t you dare,’ he said, burying his head in her neck and pressing her tightly to him, where she felt his equipment, semi-hard against her rear.

She turned to face him and ran her fingers through the hair at his temple. What if she stayed? What then?

She didn’t have time to answer her own questions before he rolled her onto her back, taking his weight on his forearms as he kissed her.

One way or another, he was making her stay.

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