All I Want Is Everything

Water moving uphill

And I believed in you all the time,
Honey, until I found out, you know, that I was so wrong.
Won't you try and build a life with me,
Guess I should've known it, I guess I should've known it all along.

Janis Joplin, Farewell Song

The next couple of days were busy. Ella got to the radio stations on time for her interviews and got rave feedback. She felt like people might be right that this would be a hit when the DJs asked for autographs and pictures with her. Aside from that, it was just bustling around evaluating furniture and making arrangements to have a good whack of Ella's list sent to her home. They accomplished a lot and Ella missed them after they went back to New York.

"I wouldn't be surprised if Bec comes back," Ella said, snuggling up to Clint after they'd been to dinner where he'd described the festival and his band's performance and Ella got to talk about the listening party, then went to bed. They'd listened to her new single and he said he was impressed.

"It's a long way for another visit," Clint said drowsily.

"No, I mean to stay," Ella said. "I had an executive at William Morris ask me about her at the party, her education, interests, ambitions."

"Well," Clint said, startled. "That would be nice for you, have your friend so much closer."

"It would," Ella agreed. "But it's a long way from the rest of her family." Clint nuzzled her hair and rolled onto his back.

"I hope it works out," he said, then drifted off. Ella wasn't long behind him.

The next morning found her wandering out to the kitchen while Clint was in the shower. She fed Lucky, then started the coffee. Clint arrowed in when he smelled the brew and leaned on the counter, fixing it with the same intent stare Ella had. "Aw, coffee," he entreated it to brew faster. When it was finally done, he passed a mug to Ella and poured for her before filling his oversized mug. She suspected he dispensed with the mug when he was alone, drinking straight from the carafe. They sipped in companionable silence. Don't overthink this, Ella told herself.

"Clint..." she said, and he looked over at her amiably, taking a long drink of the piping hot beverage. "I'm in love with you. I want a future with you."

Clint apparently inhaled and snorted and sprayed. Coffee was everywhere and he was dabbing at his nose tenderly with a paper towel as Ella mopped up what coffee she could quickly find.

"Clint?"

He was quiet a moment longer. "I'm sorry, Ella. What we have is fun, you're a terrific person and I like spending time with you, but right now I'm not looking for a relationship. And when I get there, I want a wife who'll be at home, waiting for me when I get out of the studio or off the road. But you're a musician too, and honestly, you'll probably be a viable act longer than STRIKE will. You're looking to be on the road for maybe a year just with this album, we're not going to see much of each other. I'd never ask you to choose me or your music, that's not fair. I think we just want different things."

Ella didn't know what to say. On the one hand, she appreciated that he wasn't going to demand she choose him over her music. On the other hand, here was yet another man she'd offered her heart to who went ew and backed away.

"I see," she managed.

"I never promised you anything," Clint said, and that was enough. She put down her coffee.

"I get it," she said, avoiding looking at him. "See you around." She left the kitchen, grabbed her purse from where she'd left it the night before, and strode quickly out to her 'Vette. For once, the well-tuned purr of the powerful engine and the butter-soft upholstery failed to soothe. She pulled out of his driveway and went home. Well, back to her guest house. She didn't come out for a couple of days, and her phone did not ring.