Page 84 of Final Serenade

But I didn’t believe him. Maybe he wanted to think he didn’t care, but deep down, he did. I knew it. I knew it for the both of us.

We fell back into silence. The air inside the car was thick with ache and grief.

“Do you want me to go with you?” I asked softly. I had no idea why I did. I just knew I didn’t want him to be alone there. Alone with the broken memories.

His dark, piercing gaze roamed my face. “Yes.”

“Okay. I’ll make some adjustments in my schedule.” I leaned into him, flung my arms around his neck, and drew him into a tight embrace. There was a moment of absolute stillness where we both stopped breathing, our chests pressed together, our cheeks brushing. This was an exchange of thoughts and feelings, the most intimate I’d ever been with him before. Sex didn’t even come close. The pulse beating in his throat vibrated against my skin like a live wire. He was an agony of flesh and blood and I wanted to take some of his torment.

We returned to Malibu without music. His hand was on my thigh, his jaw set, his shoulders slumped. There were no words, just the rumble of the ocean and the whip of the wind.

It was later at home when we were in bed that Frank finally spoke.

“You don’t have to go with me if you don’t have the time, Cassy.” He lay next to me on his back, his left arm tucked under my pillow. My body still buzzed and my fingertips tingled from driving the Ferrari.

“I want to go.” I rolled over to my side and pressed my lips to his chest.

“I don’t even know if she wanted to be buried or cremated.” I heard a hard swallow. His Adam’s apple rolled beneath his skin.

“Are there any other relatives?”

“I’m not sure.”

“No one recognized you when you went to see her?”

“Hannah always made all the arrangements. My name can’t come out.” He drew a ragged breath, the rise of his chest against my cheek shaky.

“What about Billy and Janet? Do they know?”

“Yes, but they’ve never been fond of my idea to track my birth mother.”

“Why not?”

“I think they felt threatened.”

“How come?”

“I don’t know.” He paused. “Probably because they’re very protective of me.” I heard a soft chuckle. “You’ll see. They’re coming over to see the shows.”

“You mean they’re coming over here? To your house?”

“Yes. There are six bedrooms in the house.” He laughed. “Should I put them in a hotel instead?”

“No. I mean…” I was at a loss for words. They were his parents and he talked about me meeting them as if it were as simple as buying a cup of coffee at Starbucks down the street from my place.

“Are you getting cold feet?” He shifted his body to face me. His lips found my forehead.

“No… I don’t know. We’re not exactly screaming about our relationship from the rooftops.”

“Cassy”—he cupped the back of my head and pulled me closer—“I don’t want the press to discuss me and you and what we have, but that doesn’t mean it lessens your importance.” His whisper caressed my face. “I love that you’re a part of my life and that you make me smile and that you’re understanding of my situation and don’t ask for something I can’t give you at the moment. I want us to keep going on. It won’t be easy, but I do want it. I just have to concentrate on the tour and the album right now, and I don’t need the tabloids stirring the pot while I’m trying not to ruin what’s left of my career.”

This was the strangest confession I’d ever heard from him. “Of course. I’m fine with what we have and I’m fine with keeping it discreet.”

Are you really fine with people thinking the man you’re sleeping with is dating a rich, hot actress, Cassy? Are you?

“You’re still meeting my parents,” he reassured. “And I still want to be involved in your project. I watched the videos and I loved them. We simply have to figure out a way to keep the press off your back.”

I let out a breath and shook off the worry. A feeling a lot like excitement swirled in my insides. “Really? You’ll do that? You’ll help us?”

---