I convinced myself she'd show up. I really thought she would. As fragile as she is in so many ways, she's always shown up. Even when she was completely falling apart, she would be there. I realize now that it was her music that made her show up. Without that, her instinct was to retreat. A month later, I'm still not sure that I did the right thing. I booked a flight to Venice two different times, and couldn't make myself get on the plane. I meant what I'd said. I won't hide out forever.
I also know that sooner or later I'll cave if she doesn't show up. Living without her fucking sucks.
I'm tired of playing. I'm almost done with the record, but really don't care about it. I thought knowing that where she was would make everything easier. All I wanted for the past two years was to find her. I thought that if I knew where she was I'd be okay. What a bunch of bullshit. Knowing where she was and not being able to get her back was a million times worse.
My thoughts are consuming, and I set the guitar down and head back into the house. The studio will still be there tomorrow. I'll try again.
I grab a beer and sit on the patio, staring at the lights below me. Los Angeles is so damn big. I love my house, being up on a hill. Stevie and I used to come up into these hills all the time when we were younger. We'd look at all the mansions and decide which ones we'd buy when we were rich and famous. We'd stare at the ocean and the mountains for hours and plan our life together. Now, I'm sitting in one of those giant houses that we used to stare at, and it doesn't even fucking matter. She isn't with me.
My phone rings and rips me away from my thoughts, which is probably a good thing. This is not a good road for me to go down.
"Hello?"
"Linds, it's Karen."
My heart immediately starts to race. "What's wrong, Karen?"
"She's gone."
"What do you mean she's gone?"
"She said she was going for a walk. That was last night."
"Did she take anything with her?"
"Not much."
"Where's Brie?"
"Los Angeles. She left last week."
"Do you think she came here?"
"Unless she freaked out and went somewhere else. I can't figure her out anymore, Lindsey. I figured if she was going to talk to anyone it would be you."
"I haven't heard from her since I left."
"You'll call me?"
"Yes. You do the same," I order, suddenly unbelievably nervous. What if we've lost her again?
"I will. I'm sorry, Lindsey. I thought it would be different."
"She may still come around," I say, rather unconvincingly. We say our goodbyes and hang up, not really sure what else there is to say.
Suddenly, I hear something in the front of the house walk through the French doors, slightly apprehensive. I make my way through the living room and stand at the end of the hallway, looking into the entryway. Her eyes immediately lock on mine and she freezes, looking completely terrified. She's in a flowing red dress, one large leather bag hanging from her shoulder and a suitcase in her hand. She sets them down slowly, her eyes never leaving mine, and takes one step toward me, clearly apprehensive. I open my arms and she grins and runs down the hall, nearly knocking me over as her body collides with mine.
She throws her arms around my neck and pulls me down for a kiss, her lips needy. I can taste the tears running down her face, but she doesn't let go of me, and I am certainly not going to stop her. I return her kisses eagerly, lifting her off the ground and grabbing the backs of her thighs as she wraps her legs around me. I maneuver into the living room and collapse backward onto the couch, my hand starting to roam as she attacks my lips, touching all of her, convincing myself that I'm not dreaming.
"Stevie..."
"Shut up." There's no room for argument in her voice, and as forceful as she sounds, I sense the fear behind it. She pulls on the hem of my shirt and I raise my arms, letting her yank it over my head. I'm too scared to make any moves, letting her lead. "I need you, Lindsey," she says, and I watch her fumble a little with my zipper, her hands shaking. I inhale sharply as she frees me and wraps her hands around me, squeezing gently. She doesn't bother taking her dress or boots off, rising up and lowering herself onto me, biting her lip in concentration.
"Jesus." I grab her hips and help support her as she moves up and down, probably holding on a little too hard. She bends back, her hands gripping my knees. Golden hair falling everywhere, her breasts spilling over the top of her dress... I have to close my eyes to make myself last a little longer. There's no way I'm going to end this first.
She starts to lose control and I slip a hand under her skirt touch her, knowing she's close. She grabs my shoulders and leans forward, bouncing up and down frantically as she comes, yelling incoherently. I'm right behind her, and I gather her into my arms as she collapses, my arms barely strong enough to hold her at this moment. I desperately try to catch my breath, smoothing her hair, forcing myself to regain control. When I finally collect myself I see tears spilling down her face, and I pull her closer, kissing her hair.
"I'm sorry," she says, her voice shaky.
"You're here," I say simply, and she knows it's as much a question as it is a statement.
"I don't want to be without you. If that means coming back... here... then I guess that's what I have to do."
"If you ever fucking leave again..." I say, hoping it doesn't sound quite as intense as it sounds.
"Never. Never, Lindsey. I'm done hiding. My life is here. You are here. Brie is here."
"And you're sure?"
She nods, sitting up and looking at me. "No more freakouts. I promise."
"I can't lose you again, Steph. Ever. This is it."
She smiles and kisses me, gently this time, her hands holding the sides of my face. "I love you."
"Upstairs, Nicks." She giggles and slides off my lap, letting me lead her up the stairs to the bedroom. Somehow, this time, I believe her.
