“No. I’m fine, thank you.” She takes a seat on the sofa and I sit on the edge of the chair across from her. It seems the appropriate place for me to be—on the edge of my seat—because I’m dying to know what has brought her to Avalon.
“I’m sorry. I would have called, but I had no way of getting your number unless I asked Jack Henry, and I don’t want him to know I’m here to see you.”
This is news I wasn’t expecting. “You’re here to see me?”
“Yes, Laurelyn. I know you’re only here for two more weeks and I have something I want to say to you.”
I clutch the cushion of the chair to hold on so my ass doesn’t fall off into the floor. “Okay.”
“I know my son very well, and Jack Henry loves you. I see it in his eyes every time he looks at you.” Is it love she saw or was it the façade? “He wouldn’t have brought you to meet us or into our home if he didn’t. Trust me. That’s not something he does lightly.”
She’s smiling. “So now, I’m going to be a very forward and meddling mother. Do you love my son?”
Wow. I’m taken back by her question, but I know the answer without thinking about it. I should be guarded and not willing to confess it so easily, but I want nothing more than to scream it from the rooftop. “Yes. I love Jack Henry very much.”
She smiles even bigger and pats the cushion next to her. “Come sit next to me.”
I get up from the chair and do as she asks. She faces me and takes my hands. “Believe me, he’s going to be a stubborn jackass when it’s time for you to leave in a couple of weeks. He isn’t going to want to put his heart on the line and ask you to stay, but he will be sick with himself if he lets you go. Because you love him, you have to spend the rest of your time together showing him why he should ask you to stay.”
Whoa. I’m not sure, but I think Margaret McLachlan is advising me to get it on with her son. Does she think I haven’t already been doing that?
How do I make her understand about our agreement without telling her? “We knew we’d only be together for three months, so we agreed from the start that our relationship wouldn’t become serious. I don’t think he’s changed his mind about that.”
She squeezes my hands. “Hon, it doesn’t matter what you agreed to. If you love each other, that changes everything. Trust me. Nothing else matters. And a little nookie to change his mind never hurts, either.”
Yep. That’s exactly what I thought she was suggesting.
42
Jack McLachlan
It’s only one week until Laurelyn leaves. It’s too soon and I want more time with her.
I’m neglecting my work at Avalon because I’m desperate to spend every minute with her. I can’t get enough of her and this morning is no different. That’s why I’ve come back to the house to see her after being gone for only an hour.
I open the bedroom door expecting her to still be asleep, but she’s not, and I hear the shower running. Maybe I’ll slip in and join her.
As I’m thinking it over, I hear a smothered version of “Sex on Fire” by Kings of Leon playing somewhere in the bedroom. I follow the sound until I find a ringing phone inside Laurelyn’s purse. I reach in and take it out to see the caller ID in case it’s an emergency from home. At least that’s why I tell myself I do it.
It’s Blake Phillips. Again.
This time it’s not a missed call notification I see. It’s a photo of Laurelyn with her lips pressed against a man’s cheek. They look like a happy couple. Maybe even in love.
I contemplate what to do—answer or let it go to voicemail—and my curiosity wins out. I slide the bar over and have no idea what to say because I’m in the dark about who this man is. I put Laurelyn’s phone to my ear and listen without saying a word. A moment later, I hear his voice. He’s a Yank—of course. I would expect him to be. “Laurelyn. I know you’re there. I hear you breathing.”
I continue silent, waiting to hear some clue as to what kind of relationship she has with this man.
“If you’re not ready to talk, please listen.” I wait and hear nothing. I think we’ve been disconnected, but then he continues, “I miss you, Laurie. We had a great thing going and I know we can get it back. Baby, no one knows about us. I convinced Mitch and the guys you just needed a little time to deal with the stress of the music industry, but they’re not going to wait forever. You need to come back to Nashville so we can push this record deal through. You need to come home to me.”
I’m still not positive who Blake Phillips is, but I’m getting a much clearer picture. He’s the one before me, the one who hurt Laurelyn.
“Laurie, I know you miss me.”
I’ve heard enough. “Laurelyn can’t come to the phone right now.”
There’s a moment of silence before he asks, “Who is this?”
“Jack McLachlan. I’m Laurelyn’s boyfriend, her Australian boyfriend. Because that’s where she is—in Australia with me. Not in Nashville with you.”
“I need to speak with Laurie as soon as possible. Please, tell her to call Blake.”
“She doesn’t want to talk to you and you’re out of your f**king mind if you think I’m telling my girlfriend to call her ex-hole. I’m sure you understand.” I press the end button because we’re done here.
Laurelyn is mine. Not his.
After I end the call, I thumb through photo after photo of Laurelyn with this guy and see the proof of her happy life before me. It’s unsettling, even painful to see.
I hear the shower cut off and try to decide what my approach will be to asking Laurelyn about her relationship with this guy. I’m sitting on the side of the bed when she comes out of the bathroom wearing a towel wrapped turban style around her hair. She’s as naked as the day she was born.
She’s startled to see me and lets out a girlish squeal as she uses her hands to cover herself. She realizes it’s me and grins as she drops her hands from her naked body. “Shit, you scared me. I thought you were gone for the day.”
“I was, but I came back for something.” I wish I hadn’t. I don’t want these feelings I have.
Laurelyn grins as she walks over to her lingerie drawer. “What’s going on? You’re acting weird.”
I watch her step into a pair of white lace panties and pull them up. She reaches for the matching bra and slips her arms through it before fastening the clasp between her br**sts.