I stared in shock. “Um, I’m Sam. Have we met?” I demanded incredulously.
He stared at me, his blue eyes shining bright. “Yeah, we have, and in some ways you know me better than anyone. In others, you’ve just scratched the surface, babe. I want us to get to know that side of me together.”
We stared at each other, the energy zapping between us. “My meeting’s at eleven.”
It was one small step forward, but for now, it was all I had. He clasped my hand briefly, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I’ll be ready.”
****
“Sam, we love your material. It’s beautiful, but also original and edgy,” my contact from the label, Tyler, explained later that morning. “We’d like you to write a few songs for our latest talent. His name is Miles Teller. He’s a fantastic up-and-coming solo artist.”
I sat back, shocked.
This was surreal. I’d never dreamed someone would actually want to pay for my music. For a moment, I dared to hope that I could actually make a living doing what I loved.
Typically, only very well-known songwriters were commissioned to write for famous artists. This far surpassed my wildest dreams.
When I walked out of Tyler’s office, I felt like I was walking on air. I found Sid in the lobby where I’d left him. I’d had to fight him against coming in to the meeting with me. He stood when he saw me and for a moment, I forgot everything, and let out an excited shriek, throwing my arms around him.
He picked me up, holding me close.
“They want me to write some songs for them!” I exclaimed in an excited hush as he spun me around. I pulled back to look him in the eye, his grin mirroring my own.
He knew what this meant. There was no one else I wanted to share this moment with.
He set me back on my feet, his large hands cupping the sides of my face. When he lowered his head to kiss me, I was too shocked to do anything but kiss him back. It was a soft close-mouthed kiss, but it still lit a fire in my belly.
“I’m so fucking proud of you, sweetheart.” He grinned when he pulled back, his forehead resting against mine.
The moment was so natural, I didn’t even attempt to fight it. Instead, I beamed up at him and let him take my hand as he led me to his truck.
As always, he had to help me into the black beast of an F-150. I’d asked him more than once why he needed such a big truck. He’d simply shrugged. “I’m a truck guy.” That had been that.
When we got back to Brad’s, I was full of nervous energy. I didn’t know quite what to do with myself.
“Let’s play something,” Sid suggested, showing how well he actually knew me. I agreed readily.
“I just want to shower and change first,” I explained, gesturing to the very cute but not necessarily comfortable dress I’d chosen to wear for my meeting.
He nodded, his eyes following me as I left the room.
When I emerged sometime later wearing yoga pants and a tank, my hair wet and wrapped up in a bun, he was sitting on the couch playing his bass with Trixie beside him.
She was a little slut, that one.
I plopped down on the couch next to him.
“How long is the owner gone for?”
“Brad? A couple of weeks, I think. He wasn’t totally sure when he left,” I answered, shooting a look at the traitorous Trixie as she sat in Sid’s lap.
“She’s kind of sweet,” he admitted.
“She is,” I agreed, surprised again at how much she’d grown on me.
I moved to sit on the floor, my back to the couch and guitar in my lap. Sid sat up on the couch, bass notes thumping from his fingers.
As it always was with us when we played, we fell into a natural rhythm, playing off each other.
“You want to try something new?” he asked after we’d been playing awhile.
I was hesitant for a moment before agreeing. “Sure.”
I started playing the melody I’d worked out, and he naturally followed. As always, I was floored by how talented he was. I started to sing, my voice tentative at first before gaining volume. The acoustics were beautiful in Brad’s spacious living room with the high ceilings.
We had a couple of stops and starts as we fine-tuned the chorus. It was a relief to feel so natural in Sid’s presence again after being so out of sorts for so long. We were in our element as we talked through the melody and lyrics.
I didn’t even notice the headache until it was full force. The combination of having little food that day and the stress of the last few days came together into the perfect storm of headaches.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, picking up immediately that something was off. “Migraine?” I’d been getting migraines for years, and Sid obviously recognized the signs of one coming on.