She gripped the banister, climbing the spiral staircase ascending to the cupola bedroom of the suite. Stevie stepped onto the private balcony and took in the view of the harbor and mountains. She pulled her shawl around her tighter as she breathed in the briny air. As soon as she stepped into the hotel, she had caught a chill. With each creak, it seemed as if the decades old establishment was breathing and drawing her into the history. She bit into her bottom lip, imagining World War II soldiers coming into the building weary from the war and being greeted by a friendly hotel clerk. She shivered and fingered the crescent moon hanging from her neck, pondering the secrets the walls of the house kept and never told.
He came up behind her, sliding his arms around her waist and gazing at the setting sun. Lindsey kissed her shoulder. "Stephanie," he murmured, hoping to draw her back to reality.
She licked her lips and clutched the moon, debating on verbalizing all the concerns that had rooted into her mind during the hour long ferry ride. As quickly as the hues darkened in the sky, her patience thinned and her displeasure grew. She twiddled the pendant between her fingers, stepping out of his arms and walking the short distance to the white railing of the balcony.
Lindsey let his arms fall to his sides and slipped his hands into the pockets of his jeans. He raised a brow, watching her and attempting to gauge her mood. He wanted to close the distance between them, but his instincts howled at him. He didn't move a muscle. Lindsey watched strands of her hair dance in the gentle breeze and heard the faint sound of the golden crescent moon bumping against her collarbone.
Stevie cast her dark brown eyes downward. Her heart ached, witnessing couples hand in hand, laughing and chatting, and radiating happiness. It seemed effortless for everyone but them. She wished the Catalina trip was a romantic getaway instead of a reconciliation getaway. She didn't doubt her love for him or his love for her, but she had suspicions about if that love was healthy. She and Lindsey couldn't seem to simply talk to one another or accept a differing view on a matter. She was as guilty as him for always seeking forgiveness rather than permission. She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath, promising to herself that she wouldn't run away from him.
Lindsey spoke her name tentatively. Her silence disturbed him and corroded his confidence. His eyes drifted from the heel of her suede boots and up to her shoulders. His eyes settled on her lovely face as she turned, but words stuck in his throat, noting the courage in her orbs.
"Why are you making an album?"
Lindsey's head reeled and spun at her question. He hadn't been expecting Stevie to swim right into those waters. He wanted to ease in, not be forced in. He scrubbed his hand over his face, suddenly realizing those waters were shark infested with treacherous currents. He'd been a fool to think he could weather the dangers. Lindsey sluggishly shrugged his shoulders in response to her question.
"That's not an answer, Lindsey."
He heaved a weighty sigh and pulled out a chair, sitting down at the round table and avoiding her stare. He bumped his foot against the leg of the table and lit a cigarette, leisurely sending the smoke out of his lungs and into the night. He brushed his thumb back and forth over the end of the filter.
Stevie rolled her eyes at his premature shut down. She had a soft spot for how he tended to react emotionally to every situation; his passion was one of his finer qualities, but she loathed that trait when his fierce emotions caused him to withdraw into his shell. She resisted the urge to stomp into the suite, slam the door behind her, get on the next ferry, and off the island. She narrowed her eyes on him and crossed her arms over her chest. "Why are you making an album?"
Her repetition stoked his anger and blurred the sentiment of her question. He could make an album on his own. She wasn't the only one that could go solo. He flicked the ashes off and curled his lips into a sneer, recalling her reasoning for her album. "I have the songs. My songs are too good to sit and rot in a vault somewhere," he mocked.
