Blurring the Lines (11 page)

His mom leaned next to Corinne as Chris quickly moved around the kitchen. No hesitation as he gathered ingredients—as if he’d never left this house.

“
Always
a flirt.”

Corinne gestured to Chris who was already whipping butter and sugar together. “All he’s done at my place is tea and dishes.”

“And eggs for Jonah,” he interrupted.

His mom’s eyes went between them a couple times. “So you two are pretty serious then? Can I ask that?”

“Oh.” Heat rushed to Corinne’s face. “It’s not… That came out weird… He and I aren’t…”

Chris laughed, silencing her as he set a bowl and spoon on the counter. “Mom, Corinne and I write music together. She’s been nice enough to let me stay in her spare room while we do it. That’s all.” His eyes met hers. “At least until I can convince her I’m worth a shot at more.”

“Oh.” His mother laughed and clutched her hands to her chest. “I’m being used to show her you’re a normal guy, is that right?”

A part of Corinne knew it was true. Of course that’s some of why he wanted her there. Chris wanted her to see there was more to him than
what
he was.

Chris dropped
the flour into the bowl and stood in front of his mother, resting a hand on each shoulder. “I came because it’s been way too long and because I hate that we don’t talk and because I’ve been a coward about wanting to talk to you—aside from the letters you got while I was in rehab.”

She rested her hands over his and patted him a few times, her eyes tearing up. “I don’t care what your reasons are. I’m just glad you’re here.”

He kissed her on the head. “And because I really do make amazing cookies.” He stepped away and back to his bowl.

“That, too.” She wrapped an arm around Corinne’s shoulders. “You’re good for him. I can tell already.”

Emotions rushed through Corinne so hard and fast that she barely knew how to make sense of them. “I should head to bed. Thank you again for letting us stay here.”

His mom squeezed tighter. “Anytime, dear.”

Corinne stepped back, feeling like she really should be out of the way of Chris and his mother and the years they had to catch up on.

“No cookies?” Chris asked.

She folded her arms, suddenly feeling like she needed protection. “Maybe tomorrow.”

“I’ll walk you up.” Chris jumped around his mom to stand next to Corinne and the feel of him
hit her as hard and fast as her emotions were running.

Corinne started to protest, but he was already next to her, gesturing for her to go ahead. Chris watched as Corinne slowly navigated the familiar house. Everything about this place helped him feel grounded, and he hated that he hadn’t always come home when he could have. Hated what he’d done to his mom. And her forgiving heart brought him right back in. He didn’t deserve it. He also didn’t deserve the girl walking in front of him, but he was going to do his best to find a way to know her more. Better. Be with her.

He stopped by the guestroom door.

She leaned against the doorframe facing him.

“If you need anything—” he started, but couldn’t finish because what he wanted to say was that if she needed anything, ever, he wanted to be the one to do it for her. Admittedly a little much for their first trip to his mom’s house.

“You brought me here on purpose.” Even her whisper wobbled a bit.

“Yes.”

Corinne swallowed, maybe betraying her nerves. “Because you wanted me to see how you grew up.”

He smiled, allowing himself to love that she was here. “Yes.”

“Because you want me to see you.”

Because he needed her to see that he was more than Christian Meyer. “Yes.”

“Because you think that it’ll make me fall for you.”

His smile widened. “I’m hoping. Yes.”

She licked her lips, and he held his breath waiting to see what she’d say next.

“It’s working.”

Her words lifted a weight he didn’t know he carried.

“I just wanted you to know that.”

“Goodnight, Corinne.” He resisted the urge to step closer. “I’m happy you’re here.”

She gave him an indulgent smile as she slightly shook her head. “See you tomorrow, Christian Meyer.”

“Night.” He stood in the hallway for a moment after she closed the door before walking back downstairs. He had cookies to finish and spending some time talking with just his mom would also be good. Though, she tended to see right into the middle of things, and he wasn’t sure if he was ready to hear whatever she might have to say about Corinne—the woman who swore she wasn’t ready.

It’s working
, those were possibly the best words in the English language.

He stepped back into the kitchen, picking up right where he left off with the cookies. His mom pinched at his stomach, but he darted away, licking dough off his fingers.

“You’re still too skinny.”

“I’m fine, Mom.” He started spooning dough onto the cookie sheet. It had been years since he’d made cookies. Maybe even not since after his first year or two with Kincaid.

His mom pulled herself up to sit on the counter—she’d never grow up, and he loved her the more for it.

“Tell me about this girl you brought.”

Chris smiled and spooned out another cookie. “She’s amazing. I’m in a crap position because I’m finally getting my dream of dreams to do my kind of music my way, and now here she is.”

“A bit younger?” his mom teased.

“Wow.” Chris paused for a moment. “Yeah. I hadn’t… I feel like I’m scrambling to keep up with her so much of the time that the age difference never hit me, but yeah… Ten years probably.” He laughed. “When did I get so old?”

His mom snapped him with a towel again. “Watch it. If you’re making fun of your age, imagine how I feel about mine.”

“You’re still twenty-five and gorgeous.” Chris laughed.

“And how are you, really?” Her voice had quieted. “After rehab.”

How was he? Both better and worse. Better because his mind was clear and he was writing. Better because he wasn’t killing his body with the selection of drugs he was able to get his hands on. Better because he no longer found the bottom of a bottle whether he was alone or not. Worse because part of him still wanted all of those things, and he suspected he always would.

“At home? Not great. It’s a struggle, but I haven’t slipped once, and each day that I stay sober makes me that much more determined to stay that way. When I’m with Corinne at her house? It’s so… It’s so removed that it’s a lot easier. Not perfect but easier.”

“I’d tell you to quit it all and chase her, but I’m also so proud of you for finally having the ability to do what you really want with your music.” She nudged him. “And we both know you’re a shell of a person when you don’t have your music.”

“I’m about to live the dream I wanted when I was in college. I can’t…” He ran a hand over his head. “But I can’t even think about being away from her for that long right now.”

“Then you’re probably using her—”

“I’m not,” Chris interrupted.

His mom laughed and rested a wrinkled hand on his shoulder. “Maybe not consciously, but your life is easier around her. I know there’s more there than that. My guess is that she’s kept herself away from anyone for a while and has been raising that boy instead.”

Chris nodded. “It took me more than a week to convince her we should be friends.”

His mother’s smile was sly. “Oh, she doesn’t look at you like you’re a friend.”

Hope
. “Yeah, well… I’m still working on that next bit.”

“But you’re needed in California, am I right?”

Of course he was. Needed ages ago. “Why are we talking again?” He slid the cookies into the oven.

“Because you know me. You know I won’t feed you a line of crap. And you love it.”

He leaned against the counter next to his mom. “I’ve missed you.”

She tugged on him sideways. “I’ve really missed you too.”

TWELVE

Corinne
really was falling for the exact kind of man she swore she’d never fall for again.

Everything about Chris’ childhood home felt...like home. Like somewhere she’d look forward to coming. The opposite of her mom’s over-decorated-magazine-ready house. She was so frustrated that Chris had worked his way in and so frustrated that she’d let it happen. Only now that she was falling into such a warm place, the sense of loss if she didn’t let it happen… That was also a lot to take in.

She pulled in a few deep breaths and sunk further into the soft bed. There was nothing she could do about the walls around her heart that had come down, but she felt raw, exposed, and worried. There had to be a way to shake this weighted feeling. Maybe he was different. Maybe she should try and relax already. Let what happens, happen. Maybe.

Corinne jerked her feet off the cold, wood floor the second they hit it in the morning. “Whew.” She shivered and leaned over the bed to pull out her wool socks. She knew it was early, but she wanted some time alone in the morning. Some time to just relax and enjoy the home. And she felt suddenly determined to try and stop worrying so much. Her feet slid up the hallway’s smooth floors and froze when she heard voices come from the living room.

“Your brother and his wife always come up on Sunday. Will you still be here?” Chris’ mom asked.

“Should probably see him, yeah,” Chris answered.

“Might be rough,” she warned.

Their voices lowered to the point that Corinne couldn’t hear, and guilt pinched at her for listening in. She took a step forward, but stopped when the voices grew louder again.

“She’s lovely. Sweet. Smart. Gorgeous. And just...wonderful.”

“I know. I don’t deserve—”

“Stop,” his mom said. “Finding someone who brings out all the best things about yourself is a very rare gift. I just want you to keep yourself clean.”

“I’m not going back, Mom. I’m never… I look back on the last twelve years, the last seven or so especially, and I’m ashamed of most of it. I hate that Grammy wins and huge tours and platinum albums ended up as something I look back on and cringe about.”

“You should still be proud of all of those things.”

“I guess I am. I mean… I am. I’d be so spoiled if I weren’t thrilled with what I accomplished. I just don’t like the guy who did all of that.”

“I love you.”

“I wanna deserve her.”

“And that’s good, but make sure you’re doing all of this for you.”

“I am. Everyone at the label and even Lita is raving about the songs and the transformation. The music I’m making finally feels like
me
.”

“I’m proud of you.”

Corinne shuffled back, not wanting to intrude on Chris’ moment with his mom.

“Corinne?” she called.

Corinne made a show of rubbing her eyes as if she hadn’t been listening in. “Morning.”

Brooke patted her son’s leg before standing up. “I’m going to put on the pancakes.”

“I can help,” Corinne started, but Brooke waved her down.

“You sit for a few. Wake up.”

“Come here.” Chris waved her over and Corinne found herself facing the man she’d basically told she was falling for the night before. Holy wow, how had this happened?

“You’re up early,” she whispered.

“Your cheeks are turning pink,” he teased.

She felt her cheeks heat up further.

“Come here.”

He gently took her hand and pulled her onto his lap the second she got close. Corinne laughed until he tugged her close enough to bury his face in her neck. “You totally listened in, didn’t you?”

“Maybe.”

“You naughty woman,” he teased, but then got more serious as he ran a hand down her arm. “Good. I want you to know how I feel about you. About life. About everything.”

A small bubble of panic started to push its way in, but Corinne shoved it away. “I’m still…”

“Shhh.” He chuckled. “Don’t ruin the moment for me. I know. You have a lot of history. A lot of past. A lot of life going on… I get it.”

“You don’t get it.”

“Only because you’re not ready to share.” The honesty in his eyes nearly unraveled her. “I want to understand everything about you.”

She turned toward him and softly kissed the corner of his mouth. And then again. His lips found hers and she finally really let herself fall into him. Into his arms, his lap, his kiss... And it was exactly like falling. A rush of senses and the feeling like her whole soul was flying toward something unknown.

“Auntie Corinne?” Jonah asked and she catapulted herself from Chris’ lap, half falling over before finding her balance.

“How about some pancakes?” Corinne laughed as she stepped away from the couch and pulled Jonah into her arms.

“Yes.” He giggled as she tickled his sides and moved into the kitchen, only just realizing what a public display she’d just given Chris’ mom.

Brooke smiled warmly and as Corinne’s eyes met Chris’ again the real-ness of him and his mom and where Corinne was both physically and emotionally pressed into her hard. She hadn’t expected to fall for someone again—at least not for a while. Two heartbreaks from two different places was a hard thing to overcome, but she was doing it, moving forward, and the feeling was empowering in a way she didn’t expect.

“Our goal tonight is to blend.” Chris patted his plain t-shirt.

Corinne looked him up and down. Soft moto jacket, fitted tee, and too-expensive jeans hung just right on his perfect hips and ass. “You won’t blend.”

“What?” He glanced down. “I tried.”

“You’re not designed to blend.”

He was never someone who would blend. Ever. He had that indescribable quality that people were either born with or weren’t.

He tugged her arm to bring her closer, but Corinne stopped, spinning around to find Jonah.

She crouched to Jonah’s level. “You sure you’re okay staying here without me for a few hours?” she whispered softly.

“Yeah!” His whole face was bright. “Brooke has a whole room of puzzles, Mom. They used to be her husband’s. A whole
room
.”

She blinked back tears at his “mom” slip and grabbed him in a hug. “You call me if you need anything, okay?”

Jonah shrugged away after a brief hug, gave Chris a hug, and ran back toward the puzzle room.

“You two have fun. Stay and chat, get to know this guy you’re going to listen to.” Brooke smiled. “We will be fine.”

“Thanks, Mom.” Chris gave her a wave and they stepped outside together.

Chris sighed.
“Dad used to always have a puzzle out. Always. I miss that about him. Part of me feels the loss of him all over again… Coming here.”

“That happens to me sometimes. Jonah talks so easily
about my sister and John and my sister’s fiancé… Sometimes I’ll just turn a corner and a memory will hit me.”

He pulled her into his side. “Exactly that. I’m trying to take that as a good sign—that I have crisp, vivid memories.”

“Even when it hurts,” she said.

“Even when it hurts.”

“Kinda funny,” Corinne mused as they moved for the car.

“What?”

“You’ve been living with me for close to a month and this is our first date.”

He slid both arms around her, lifting her off the ground. “I’m glad you’re here.”

She let her arms rest on his shoulders. “Me too.” And she meant it.

Chris glanced around
the theater/bar again, trying not to breathe in the scent that normally hit him a few minutes before intoxication. He hoped the dim lighting would keep him from being recognized. He knew part of what kept Corinne from him was her need to be as far away from the public eye as possible. Being recognized with her on his arm probably wasn’t the best way to do that. He hunched forward in the darkness. At the worst he could probably just say that his lyricist was with him and leave it at that. If he kept his hands off her…

And the
smell of beer. His mouth dried out as he thought about the release of tension that would come with just a couple drinks. It hit him again that he couldn’t do it anymore. None of it. It felt like a hole or a chasm ripped into him, even then.

Never again.

He knew himself well enough to know that one drink would send him down, even though alcohol had been far from his worse offender. His hands shook under the table, and he suddenly wished they’d been able to see this guy anywhere else.

“You okay?” Corinne asked, and Chris gave her a tight nod.

Her hand grasped his under the table and her eyes held him.

“You’re not okay.”

He let out a few slow breaths. “I’m glad you’re here.”

And some kind of understanding passed between them and her hold on him tightened.

Donovan looked younger than Chris would have guessed, perched on a stool by himself center stage. Maybe Donovan looked so young simply because Chris was older than he liked to think of himself. But still, was Donovan even twenty-one? If not, he wondered how he’d swung the gig. Maybe he was old enough to be playing at the bar, but his freckled face still seemed incredibly young.

When Donovan chuckled, the crowd laughed with him, and he ran a hand over hair that looked shockingly red under the lights, but probably wasn’t quite so brightly colored offstage. He adjusted the straps on his wrist before starting a song with a unique strumming pattern paired with using his guitar as almost a percussion instrument. From the back he could see the crowd gently moving to the beat he created alone with his guitar. Already Chris knew he was perfect for the show—if he was available.

“He’s good,” Corinne whispered.

He was, but Chris could barely focus on anything but breathing and his shaking hands.

Chris scooted in close to Corinne, needing her closer. His mom’s words echoed in his head along with those of his sponsor—was he using her? In that second, with her hand clutching his, he didn’t care. If she was next to him, he might remember all the reasons that drinking wasn’t a good idea.

“He is good,” Chris commented. Donovan was perfect. A little more mellow and folk-like than Chris was, which was exactly what they wanted. Complimentary, but not competing, and hopefully they’d pull in the same audience. People appreciated new talent, and since Chris had been around for a while, he, Max, Lita and the label all liked the idea of introducing someone new to the scene--as long as he could handle the tour schedule and large crowds.

After about six songs and a couple funny stories about lyrics, friends, and music, Chris knew he’d found his guy. If Donovan was interested.

Corinne nudged him and pointed to a
girl with a high ponytail, almost lip synching the words, but not quite. “Look.”

“Think she knows him?” he asked, glad for another distraction.

“I’d bet more than that.” Corinne leaned toward him, but stopped, probably realizing they were in a public place.

In that second he wanted it. Her. He wanted her to be okay with who he was and what he did and to shrug off the cameras like he’d started to do. The chances, after whatever had happened to her, were slim. It hit him in that second that he could probably
Google search her, but it was too much of an intrusion. He just hoped she felt comfortable sharing her whole story at some point. And sooner rather than later since he felt as if he’d been dying to know her story for ages.

He let himself touch her chin softly, h
is hand still faintly shaking. “Why don’t you ask her? Tell her we’d like to meet up after the show?”

Corinne nodded, let his hand go, and shuffled to the girl’s table. The girl jumped a little, and Chris was glad Corinne had gone alone.

His eyes floated toward the bar and need raked through him again.

No. His eyes closed. He definitely needed to stay focused on the music.

“Do you know Donovan?” Corinne asked as she took the seat next to the girl.

She nodded with a wide smile, her cheeks reddening.

“What’s
that
reaction?” Corinne teased.

The girl shrugged. “Known him since we were kids. He’s almost like an older brother to me.”

Corinne had seen the way the girl watched Donovan and she’d have given up her left foot if that girl thought of him as an older brother.

She held out her hand. “I’m Corinne.”

“Sierra.”

She had a strong shake, which made Corinne feel better. She never trusted anyone who didn’t know how to really shake hands.

“Nice to meet you. So…” Corinne glanced over her shoulder at Chris who gave her a quick nod. “I write music with Christian Meyer, and—”

Sierra leaned across the table toward Corinne. “
The
Christian Meyer? From Kincaid?”