Page 51 of Love is a Harmony
“Dad, I’m fine.” She’d already explained to him about the marriage, and he’d surprised her by telling her he was proud of her. “I can come into the office tomorrow.”
“Mel, I’ve done a lot of international travel. If the jet lag hasn’t already hit you, it will. Let your father take care of you. One more day. We can manage without you. Stay in bed, read a book, binge a TV show. Just relax.”
Relax. It wasn’t her strong suit. Her work schedule didn’t allow time for sleeping in or reading. But she knew her dad, and he wasn’t one to be argued with. The mountain of work that probably sat on her desk could wait another day. She sighed. “Fine, Dad. Can I at least see you?”
“How about I take off early and grab some takeout to eat at your place?”
“That sounds perfect. I’ll see you tomorrow. Love you.”
“You too, Mel.” He hung up, and she threw her phone on the bed, determined not to answer it again.
Stripping off her clothes, she walked toward the bathroom, needing to get the travel grime off her.
As soon as the scalding hot water wound through her hair, she let herself relax, breathing in the steam as she closed her eyes.
None of it felt real, not when she was back here in L.A. in a bare apartment. France was like another life, another Melanie.
She brushed a finger across her lips.
And another Noah.
She finished scrubbing herself before shutting off the water, drying her body, and wrapping her hair in a towel.
Clad in fuzzy pajama bottoms, she pulled the familiar box from her closet and climbed up onto her bed.
Every letter she’d written Justin since his death was folded neatly, one on top of another. She pulled one free, not opening it—she never did—and brought it to her chest. Curling onto her side, she shoved the box to the bottom of the bed with her foot and wrapped herself around the single letter.
“I’m going to say goodbye to you eventually, Justin. I promise.”
When she got over the guilt of thinking of Noah’s lips on hers, of wishing he and Stella were here with her now, then she’d be able to.
That was how she fell asleep—with words meant for a man who’d never read them clutched in her hands and another man consuming her thoughts.
15
Noah
Noah couldn’t sleep.
And he hated that he couldn’t sleep.
Instead, he stood on his back deck, overlooking the ocean with his arms resting on the metal railing. Dark waves crashed against the shore, illuminated by the silver light of the moon.
He used to love nights like this where he could spend time on his own after the hustle and bustle that was the life of a rock star. Tours were fun, but there was never a moment’s peace.
Except now, that peace only felt lonely.
He looked back at the house once before holding his phone out to read Jo’s message again.
Jo:I’m sorry I was such a jerk. You’re my best friend, and I choose to have faith in you. I’m here for whatever you need.
They were words he hadn’t said to her when she’d first announced her pregnancy. The truth of the matter was, Jo becoming a mother scared him. For a selfish moment in time, he’d worried what it would do to their music careers.
And then, Stella happened, and he realized the music wasn’t the most important thing.
It was the middle of the night, so she probably wouldn’t see it until morning, but he typed out a response.
Noah:You’re always a jerk. I’m used to it.
