At least not until now. Hearing Ali say those words changes them completely, and part of me latches onto them, believing what she says.
“Thank you,” I whisper. I smile shakily and pull back so I can sign, “So now that I’ve spilled my guts to you, will you help me finish our song?”
She nods, but then hesitates and signs, “With one condition.”
I raise an eyebrow. “That wasn’t part of our deal.”
“Too bad.”
I try to give her an exasperated look, but I don’t think I manage. The small smile on her lips is soft and caring, and it’s impossible to get upset at her when she looks like that. “What’s the condition?” I ask.
She leans over and tenderly kisses me on the cheek. “It has to end on a happy note.”
30
ALI
OVER THE NEXT week, Jace and I fall into an easy routine. The early mornings we spend working on songwriting; Jace is due to submit four new songs to his label in just a couple weeks, and I agree to help with all of them. While he has natural talent, he’s never had classical training, and his eyes light up excitedly as I teach him new concepts. He spends hours scribbling lyrics, testing chords on his guitar, and signing rapid-fire questions at me. His enthusiasm is contagious, and I find myself enjoying music in ways I haven’t allowed myself to in years.
Our mornings together are always too short, and the days too long. Jace’s tour schedule is crammed with events, so if he’s not prepping or performing, he’s traveling. I just keep hiding away in the back of the RV, staying safely out of view and only going outside for a few minutes at a time. Boredom eats at me, and texting Avery helps, but I’m growing more and more anxious to get to New York. After weeks of travel, we’re stopped in Austin, Texas, and still so far away from my destination.
This morning, we sit together on the couch closest to the window. The curtains are drawn to keep anyone from seeing me, but other than that, everything seems perfect. I’m texting Avery, and Jace is testing out a series of chords I wrote for a bridge, occasionally pausing to kiss me.
I stand up and grab our breakfast plates off the small side table. In just a few minutes, Jace is going to have to leave for a rehearsal, and I can already feel boredom gnawing at me. I’m sick of drawing and coding to pass the time, and even managing Jace’s social media stuff is starting to feel tedious.
I walk into the kitchen and dump the plates in the sink. There’s a growing mound there, and I frown, deciding that someone needs to take care of them. I turn on the sink, but just as I’m about to grab the dish soap, Jace’s strong arm wraps around my shoulders. He rests his chin on top of my head and uses his free hand to push the soap away from me. I turn off the water and face him, my eyebrows raised questioningly.
He gives me a chiding look and signs, “I woke you up early so we could spend time together, not so you could be my maid.”
I roll my eyes and say, “I thought you were a health freak. Don’t you know that dirty dishes build up bacteria?”
He shrugs and kisses me on the tip of my nose. That seems to be his favorite place to kiss me, aside from my lips, of course. It’s such a sweet gesture, and it always takes me a little by surprise.
“I want to spend the morning with you,” he signs. “Is that really such a terrible thing?”
“Of course not,” I reply with a smile.
He pulls me into his arms and presses me firmly against his chest, and his breath tickles my ear. I have no idea what he’s saying, but I know it’s affectionate.
Jace suddenly freezes, every muscle in his body stiffening like he’s been shocked. His grip on me tightens. Then he takes a giant step away from me, his eyes growing wide as he stares at something behind my back. I turn toward the entrance of the kitchen, and—
Shit.
Tony gapes at me, frozen in the doorway. He pushes his glasses up his nose and squints, like he thinks he might be seeing things. When I don’t disappear, his eyes grow wide, and he opens and shuts his mouth a couple times as he struggles for something to say. Finally, he manages to sputter out, “What?”
Not good, not good, not good. I tense, unsure whether I should try to explain what I’m doing here, or follow my instincts and bolt for the door. Jace pulls me back to him, wrapping a protective arm around my shoulders. Tony takes a step toward me, his brows furrowed in a mixture of disbelief and anger.
“What is she doing here?” he demands, and the way his mouth mouths exaggeratedly, I know his words are sharp and loud.
I turn toward Jace, waiting to see his reply. Jace glances down at my nervous expression and then back to Tony. “Don’t yell,” he snaps.