Page 14 of California Love Songs
“Because it’s not just a new sound for me—it’s a whole new world,” he confided, his admission laced with a mixture of excitement and fear. “It’s like I’m setting off on a journey without a map.”
“Sometimes the best discoveries are made off the beaten path,” she reminded him. “You’re Damien Davenport. You don’t need a map—you create the route as you go.”
He met her gaze again, so appreciative of her understanding that he knew he’d been right to tell her. “You really believe I can do this?”
“With every fiber of my being,” Crystal affirmed. “And hey, if it turns out to be a detour or a dead end, so what? It’s the exploration that counts. That’s where the magic happens.”
The corners of his mouth stretched into a genuine grin. “Thanks, Crystal,” he said, his voice steady now. “For believing in me when I’m struggling to believe in myself. You always have.”
“And I always will,” she said quietly. “I always will.” As if catching herself, she quickly changed her tone to one more upbeat. “So then, buddy, what shall we do today?”
He tried not to feel disappointed by how quickly she’d changed the subject. How she had used the word buddy. He forced himself to smile. “How about we work out in the gym here, then swim in the pool?”
“That’s a lot of exercise.”
He grinned again, this time at a memory. “Then we close all the blinds and watch a movie. Like old times?”
She grinned right back at him. “I love that idea.”
Chapter Six
Twenty-four hours had passed since Crystal and Damien had hung out like they were still teenagers and spent an entire day watching movies and eating snacks. Okay, so she’d polished off a bag of tortilla chips with salsa, sour cream, and guacamole, while Damien munched raw veggies and hummus. And first, he’d made her work out. Naturally, he had workout gear and swimwear on hand to fit her. It had been a glorious day, like old times, but also different somehow.
She had loved every minute of it, but a small part of her couldn’t relax, wondering where it was all heading. The chemistry between them was undeniable. At least, she couldn’t stop her own mind from dancing around some seriously sexy thoughts. She’d loved watching his toned body swimming and lifting weights when he couldn’t see her peeking. But watching him at work in his studio, trying out a jazz tune, had sent her spinning.
Her crush on him was like a familiar song that never faded, no matter how many times it played in the background of her life. But, though he was her friend, she had to face facts. He could never really be hers. For so many reasons.
Saturday, Crystal found herself headed to breakfast again with Damien—this time, for the family breakfast that brought all the Davenports together, or whoever happened to be in Carmel. Partners and friends were always welcome. She knew, as an event planner, how difficult it was to cater without knowing the exact number of guests, but she’d never seen Betsy run out of food. She suspected there were emergency rations in the deep freeze, but whatever her secrets, breakfast always expanded to feed whoever turned up.
Crystal didn’t often make it to breakfast, though with Erin and Damien as two of her besties, she wasn’t exactly a stranger. Today, however, she’d all but been commanded by Mila to show up, and curiosity, as well as the desire to see a family she loved almost as much as her own, had her walking into the familiar family home.
She loved this house. It was gorgeous, but down-to-earth too. Kind of like the Davenports. The comfortable home was an oasis where time slowed, and the rush of everyday life outside faded. A place where the love between the siblings ran deep, binding them in ways that only those born into a large family could understand. And also where they bickered.
She’d been coming to this house to do her homework since the days when she’d still believed she’d have the letters MD after her name. When Damien was still a teenage heartthrob trying to make it big.
She’d never made it to med school. Never even got to college, but she tried not to live with regret. She’d done the right thing, helping her family when they needed her. She remembered the day she’d told Betsy that she’d be getting a job after graduation. Betsy, who had a PhD and had been teaching at Stanford when she met Howie, had looked as though she might cry. Tears had threatened to spill down Crystal’s face too. She’d worked so hard.
“But your scholarship…” Betsy had said sadly.
She’d shaken her head, trying to be brave. “We can’t afford for me to go to college. Even with that.” She didn’t admit, couldn’t admit, that her father had not only left the family, but seemed to have disappeared along with his promises to look after them all. She’d heard from a cousin that he’d been seen with another woman, that they’d left California together to start over. He’d decided to start over without a care for his responsibilities back home.
At least Damien had fulfilled his dreams. More than she could have imagined.
And now he was back. She shivered as she remembered the intensity on his face as he’d plucked and pressed his way through those new jazz jams. She loved how he could still surprise her, even after all these years. Surprise her and thrill her. She shook her head and felt her long hair drift across her shoulders. She’d curled it especially for the family breakfast, weirdly more self-conscious than she’d ever been at one of these casual but boisterous affairs. She wore a red sundress with flat sandals, and the big earrings she liked, these ones in silver and turquoise.
The front door was open in invitation and as Crystal entered the house, she smiled at how noisy it was already, each sibling talking over the other. She could make out Finn’s and Howie’s voices over the rest, their deep tones booming, and then the joyful yipping of dogs. Crystal laughed to herself as she made her way along the hall to the kitchen. The Davenports now had three dogs in their brood. Buster, the old family dog who belonged to Betsy and Howard. Erin’s rescue dog, Boswell, or Buzzy as he was known, who resembled a cockapoo with his shaggy toffee-colored hair and soulful eyes. And now Jay Malone had added a third dog to the mix, a scrappy little rescue named Nelson, because he “sang along” enthusiastically whenever a Willie Nelson song played.
Crystal walked into the kitchen so quietly no one noticed. The scents of freshly brewed coffee and sizzling bacon filled the air, mingling with the faint fragrance of wildflowers wafting in from the garden just outside. Most of the family were helping to prepare breakfast, the laughter and banter flowing as always. She grinned at the scene before her. Archer Davenport, one of the hottest young stars in Hollywood, scrambled eggs, while Herschel Greenfield, Mila’s astronaut boyfriend, sliced melon. The two were deep in conversation over the movie about Hersch’s dramatic life as an astronaut, which had just been greenlit. How adamant Jay Malone, Archer’s agent and Erin’s boyfriend, had been about that movie, convincing both Herschel and Archer to get on board. He’d been proved right. He really did have great instincts and a special knack for knowing what the public wanted.
He’d also turned out to be the man Erin wanted, as much as he’d wanted her. Crystal was still surprised at how happy those two made each other. She’d planned enough weddings to know that opposites most certainly did attract, but she really couldn’t think of two people in the entire world more different than Erin and Jay.
Erin stopped slicing tomatoes to throw her arms around Crystal. Tessa Taylor Davenport, Archer’s wife, was squeezing oranges for the fresh orange juice while Howie fried bacon and Finn fried potatoes. Nick Davenport was on toaster watch.
She could see Jay in the garden walking back and forth. He talked rapidly, gesticulating with his hands, no doubt negotiating a multimillion-dollar contract.
Crystal glanced around the room and was disappointed to see that Damien wasn’t here yet. Maybe he’d gone to his studio and lost track of time.
When Betsy spotted Crystal, her face opened up into a wide, genuine smile and she came straight over to pull her into a warm embrace. Crystal felt herself yield to the hug and inhaled the comforting scent of pancake batter lingering on Betsy’s apron. The Davenport matriarch had always treated her like another of her children.
