What's So Good About Picking Up The Pieces?

Chapter Seven

I continued to watch Vic solemnly rock back and forth throughout the entire song, strumming his guitar passionately and singing with his eyes closed. 

"Can we create something beautiful and destroy it? Nobody knows I dream about it; this is my imagination. If every living thing dies alone, what am I doing here? If every living thing dies alone, what am i doing here? What am I doing here? What am I doing here?" Then, after a few more strums, Vic stopped slowly and looked up at me. 

"What about that one?" he asked.

I tried to keep my chin from hitting the floor, but I couldn't understand why though. This wasn't the first time I'd heard him sing, so why was it that his beautiful voice still gave me infinite chills and goosebumps? "Wow. What was that one called again?"

"Disasterology," he replied back with a small smile.

"And you write all of these yourself?" I asked, clearly impressed. 

"For the most part, I do. I mean, I have a little bit of inspiration here and there though."

Thinking back to his song, I replied, "Hmm, I like it... but I also like Million Dollar Houses." 

"Fair enough. Well, I think that's enough playing for tonight. Maybe another night, the guys and I can give you your own private concert so that you can experience the regular versions of our songs, not just the acoustics."

I nodded my head silently and grinned happily; I was finally content for once with my life, aside from my miserable job. Vic just made me feel so... normal. Like I didn't have to try and "behave", like I didn't have to try and look my best all twenty four hours of the day, like I wasn't afraid to look at him the wrong way without getting hit. Everything with Vic just felt so natural, not to mention made my heart beat a million miles per hour and gave my stomach a severe case of the butterflies.

"Do you want to go to sleep?" he asked. I just nodded my head, not finding the words to speak. But just as he was about to reach over and turn off the bedside lamp, something came to mind.

"I don't know how I'm going to break things off with Damen," I muttered pathetically as I exhaled loudly.

Vic studied me for a short moment before cradling my face in his warm, rough hands. "But the question is, do you want to? I mean, do you want to be with me, truly?"

I paused for a minute before gazing up into his soft brown eyes. "I've never wanted anything more in my life."

He smiled and kissed my forehead softly. "Well then just talk to him, and the words will come naturally."

"What about all my stuff? And my house?"

"Mike and I will drive you to your place and help you load up all of your stuff in the car. All you have to do is move out."

"And the house payments?"

He shrugged and pulled me closer, the heat emanating off of his body. "That can be his problem; just call your landlord and switch the names under the lease." Knowing I've persisted as far as I can manage, I nodded my head and closed my eyes as I fell into a peaceful slumber.

When I woke the next morning, later than usual since I was already technically at work, I rose quietly to get ready. After putting on the feaux facade of my "work self" with the outfit, the makeup, and the hair, I slipped out of the hotel room quietly with not so much as a peep.

As I trudged through that day at work, I kept eyeing the elevators, waiting for Vic to come down. Only he never did. At about ten till three, I was glancing at my wrist watch and tapping my foot while wondering whether Vic was still asleep or not. "God, that man can sleep."