Page 182 of Dream On

I cup a hand over my mouth, the texts blurring through a wet visor.

My Christian: You know I’ve always envied you, Nicks. You never needed to hide your truth with the guise of acting or behind words and texts. You’ve always been honest. So I had no reason to believe you weren’t telling the truth when you told me you wanted to stay. That you loved me. I couldn’t fathom it, couldn’t make it make sense, because there was no reality in which I thought that the lonely artist would end up with the shining star. But it’s time for me to be honest now—to give you my truth. No more pretenses, no hidden messages.Just me. Asking for another chance.

My Christian: Because I love you too.

A sob escapes, the sound sneaking through the cracks in my fingers. Tears stream down my cheeks as I gape at the screen.

My thumbs hover over the keypad.

Words jumble, and thoughts scatter.

But before I can piece together a response or hit the Call button…I hear it.

Notes.

Chords.

Music.

All the air leaves me as I jump off the bed and face my partially open bedroom door. A song travels up the staircase, down the hall, and makes its way into my ears. The song is so familiar, I feel it filling every channel, every pocket, every inch of me.

The cell phone slips from my hand, landing on the mattress.

My teddy bear tumbles to the floor.

I run.

I race down the creaky hallway, past bedroom doors, down the carpeted stairs, to where he sits behind the old upright piano, his fingers pressed to the keys, his voice a forgotten treasure I feared I’d never hear again. I haven’t heard him sing since opening night. I’ve missed it. I’ve craved his rich baritone with vibrato so pure it brings more tears to my eyes.

Lex sits on the weathered bench, perched in the corner of our living room. His hands caress the keys, the planks of his back flexing and stretching as he pours everything he has into the song. Into our song.

“Come What May.”

I watch him play through glossy eyes, and I’m taken back to that stage. Him watching me as I was lowered on the swing. The look on his face, intense and vulnerable. Me feeling confused, torn between reality and fantasy as we danced and harmonized and kissed.

Sing out this song.

I’ll be there by your side.

I’m here.

I’ve always been here.

My voice splits into lovelorn pieces as I whisper the lyrics along with him, my quiet melodies fusing with his. And when the last chord rings out, Lex pauses, his fingers sliding off the keys in slow motion as silence fills the space.

Silence and truth.

He turns on the bench.

Faces me.

A smile curls his lips when he sees me standing there with my hands clasped over my heart, tear stains leaving glimmers on my cheeks.

“I thought you didn’t play,” I croak out in a trance, a daydream.

His smile twitches. “I said not well.”

Not another second passes before I’m launching myself at him. I spill into his embrace the moment he stands, wrapping my arms around his middle and burying my face against his chest. My body shakes, emotion expelling in heartfelt waves. He sighs into my hair, pressing his chin to the top of my head as his arms hold me back. They cradle me, squeezing tight.