Page 72 of Between Never and Forever
“Do you think we’ll s—” Brynn halts in her tracks, and when I follow her gaze, I find what she’s staring at.
It’s a trailer just like all the others, but this one has a sign on the door that says SAV LOVELESS in giant black letters. The moment my eyes land on that sign, I’m just as frozen as Brynn. I can’t move. I can’t speak. Something like excitement or fear clamors in my chest, and I frown at the feeling. I scowl at that trailer. That door. That sign.
I scowl at the name.
Something about that sign makes all of this feel more real than it did ten minutes ago. The set, the crew, the studio. It all existed in my head separate from Sav Loveless. Until now. My muscles ache with tension and my fists clench tightly. Come Monday, I’ll be better prepared to see her. But right now, I need to get the fuck out of here.
I clear my throat, then gently put a hand on Brynn’s shoulder.
“Penn and Paige and smoothies.”
17
“Fifteen minutes,”Red says from the driver’s seat, rousing me from my nap.
I glance out the window, noting how the scenery has changed just in the two-hour drive from the airport. I bet if I roll down the tinted window, I’ll be able to smell the Atlantic. We’ve played in Raleigh several times over the last few years, but this is as close as I’ve gotten to my hometown since I was fifteen. We passed the exit for it about an hour ago. I was asleep, but I still knew. I could feel it.
“Should we go to the studio first, or do you just want to head to your rental? I already have the entry code.”
Red flips the turn signal and glances at me from behind his dark aviators.
“Rental, please.”
We’re not expected at the studio until Monday, but Red and I decided to sneak into town early hoping to avoid a paparazzi swarm. They always show up where I’m supposed to be. We took a red-eye flight from LAX and rented our own car instead of flying the chartered jet and being shuttled by the studio limo. It’s worked out pretty well so far. The flight attendant asked me to sign a barf bag for his kid sister, and I got a few curious glances in the airport but that always happens when I bring Ziggy with me. Mostly, we’ve gone unnoticed. No one has ratted me out to the press yet.
I watch as Red pulls the address for the rental up on the GPS, then turns the car toward the downtown area. We pass cute little shops, restaurants, and bars, and I watch the people strolling down the sidewalks eating ice cream and sipping on iced coffees. I see glimpses of the estuary and the riverwalk, and then the shops are replaced by historic houses and brick buildings. Red turns down a brick alleyway, then pulls up to a wrought iron gate. He rolls down the window and punches in a code, then pulls forward into a private cobblestone courtyard once the gate opens. We’re not even inside yet and I’m already happy I chose to have the studio put me in the rental instead of the hotel suite. I’m tired of living out of hotels and tour buses.
“Well, this is fucking charming,” I say, taking in the stonework and the tiled art detail on the garage door. “I never would have guessed this was back here.”
“Let’s hope it takes the paps a while to figure it out, too,” Red says, hitting the garage door opener they’d sent us and pulling the car forward.
He puts the car in park and pops the trunk, then climbs out and grabs our suitcases. I sling a backpack over one shoulder and snag my guitar.
“Let’s go Ziggs,” I say, opening the back door and letting my rescue pup hop out.
She’s wagging her tail so hard that her whole body serpentines, and I just watch her for a minute with a dumb smile on my face. She runs around and sniffs everything in the garage, then heads out into the fenced yard and finds a place to pee.
“Good girl, ZeeZee,” I croon, and she bounds back up to me and attacks my hand and kneecap with sloppy kisses.
I can’t believe I almost left her in L.A. with a dog sitter. In the eight short months since I adopted her, my Ziggy Girl has become family. Hands down, the best impulsive decision I’ve ever made. This weird little mutt ball of energy has become the sober companion I didn’t know I needed. Red loves her too, even though he doesn’t show it. I crouch down and scratch her behind her ears and above her tail like she likes.
“Good job, girl.”
Red clears his throat, and I glance up to find him waiting in the open doorway. I roll my eyes and push myself to standing.
“C’mon Ziggy Girl, we can’t leave the old man waiting.”
Red grunts, then heads into the house and I follow with Ziggy trailing me.
As soon as I step through the door, I love it immediately.
What was an unassuming brick building from the street is luxurious and quirky inside. Everything about it is the perfect blend of chic and cozy with the most adorable trendy details mixed in. Exposed brick on accent walls, colorful shag area rugs, and funky light fixtures dot the entire first floor. It’s open concept with a staircase on the far wall leading to what I know will be two more floors and then a rooftop terrace that overlooks the water. I was intrigued when I saw the photos of the house the studio had emailed, but I’m absolutely enamored seeing it in person.
I drag my fingers over the white and gray marble countertop, the matching island with a built-in sink and wine fridge, then make my way into the living room. I drop myself onto the large overstuffed dark purple couch, and Ziggy jumps up next to me, resting her head on my thigh as I tilt mine back into the cushion.
“This has to be one of the comfiest couches I’ve ever sat on,” I say, and I hear Red chuckle from somewhere behind me.
I sit back up and look at the coffee table book—historic photography of the area—then push myself to standing despite my body’s desire to stay sunken into the plush couch cushion. Ziggs doesn’t even budge, and I don’t blame her. I think she’s found her favorite place in the house. I look at Red and point to the ceiling.
