 
Lily White

By

Maarika Polikarpus

SMASHWORDS EDITION

* * * * *

PUBLISHED BY:

Maarika Polikarpus on Smashwords

Lily White

By

Maarika Polikarpus

Copyright © 2011 by Maarika Polikarpus

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

Chapter 1

Lily Rayes absently counted the heads of the fourth graders marching through the wide glass doors of the Ravage recording studio in New York, letting out a deep sigh as the line finally ended. The day had been bad from the start and she couldn't think of a single way in which it had, or could improve. She had decided to volunteer the trip because the Metropolitan Museum of Art was one of her favorite places in the world. She had grown up spending weekends there and throughout her life she had visited the Museum for special exhibits and just because she had missed it. But since she had moved to Connecticut five years earlier she hadn't found the time to visit the Museum and when her son had brought home the permission slip for the trip, she had decided to go as a chaperone. She had expected to have time to study the Impressionist exhibit and the American Wing, but she had unfortunately not taken into consideration the hordes of children shooting spitballs at the guards and trying to draw on the three thousand year old sculptures because "they were broken anyway." She had spent the entire day confiscating straws and colored pencils and trying to keep her voice below the acceptable museum level despite wanting to tear her hair out and run screaming down the hallway. And then, to top it off, another parent had suggested a tour of the recording studio where he worked. Her feet hurt, her head hurt, she was tired, thirsty and she wanted to go home.

"Mom! You think we'll meet a rock star?" Nick Rayes asked, appearing from the mass of four foot tall monsters.

"God, I hope not," she grumbled under her breath. "I want to go home."

"You didn't like the museum?" Nick asked earnestly.

"I would have liked it better-" But he was suddenly gone, darting back into the crowd. She let out another exasperated sigh and looked around the lobby. It was spacious, black and red tiles dotted the floor and red leather couches curved around exotic potted plants. A high black counter sat against the wall with two bored looking teenagers sitting behind it.

"I have to get away from these people," Lily muttered under her breath. She pushed her way towards the counter. "Excuse me, where's the ladies room?" she asked the girl behind the desk.

The girl looked at her blankly; her eyes were dark and apathetic.

"The bathroom?" Lily asked with irritation, her temper growing shorter.

"Chill, it's down that corridor." She blew a purple bubble and motioned vaguely down the hall with her pencil.

"Thank you," Lily said with as much sincerity as she could muster. She touched the teachers elbow and let her know she would catch up with the class.

The ladies room was pure white and sparse. A water cooler sat against one wall next to a low couch decorated with brightly colored pillows. Lily let out a sigh, sinking gratefully into the plush couch and slipping out of the sandals she wore. She filled a paper cup from the dispenser and let her head fall back against the wall. The silence softened the hard muscles that were bunched beneath the pale skin of her neck and shoulders and the icy water soothed her parched throat. She had never imagined finding heaven in the bathroom of a New York recording studio, but this was the closest she had gotten in a long time.

"God, that's pathetic," she murmured, shaking her head. She got up and splashed water on her face, brushing back a few stray locks of dark hair. She looked tired in the harsh overhead lights, her green eyes faded with exhaustion.

"Just an hour more," she told herself in the mirror. She applied fresh lipstick and reluctantly pushed through the door and found herself back in the lobby. The girl behind the counter pointed her towards the class with more than a little lack of enthusiasm. She trotted off after them and as she was turning down another corridor she glanced down at her wrist to check the time and bumped into someone coming out of one of the doors that lined the hallway.

"Oh! I'm sorry," she said, steadying herself with her hand on his arm. She glanced up. And her heart stopped. The silence rang out for what seemed like forever. And then her heart started to beat again and the sound threatened to deafen her.

"Vince," was the only thing she could say. Her breath was jagged, harsh as it cut in to the paper thin tissue of her lungs.

His dark eyes held hers; she couldn't tear away from his stare. His presence seemed too big and the hallway suddenly seemed cramped, claustrophobic. He had filled out in ten years. His shoulders were wider, his chest rippled with muscles beneath the thin fabric of his sleeveless T-shirt. The rugged planes of his face were carved out of granite, the prominent cheekbones, the strong jaw that was dusted with a shadow of stubble. His sandy hair hung in shaggy waves to his shoulders, tousled, wild. And his eyes, the eyes that held hers. They were harder now. Jaded. Not the soft, puppy dog eyes that she remembered.

Memories flooded back, memories of his soft lips across her skin; memories of his guitar callused hands scraping across her feverish flesh, the touch of his fingers, his tongue. She shivered against the flood of sensations that jolted through her, struggling to regain her composure, struggling to push the memories back to where she had hid them for ten years.

"Lily?" Roger Harrington said from the doorway. "Jesus, Brian, get over here."

"Hey Rog," she said, forcing the words from her mouth and desperately trying to tear her attention away from the ubiquitous presence in front of her.

Brian Richards pushed past Roger, pausing in the doorway to look at her before he moved into the hallway to hug her.

"God, I missed you," he said softly, pulling her away from Vince as if he wanted to shield her from his wrath.

"What are you doing here?" Vince's familiar voice jolted her back to the present. His eyes had never left her. He stood with his arms across his chest, his eyes dark with fresh anger and old questions. Brian gave her hand a squeeze and eased back into the doorway beside Roger.

"I-" her voice failed. She cleared her throat, using the time to think of an excuse. "I'm just, I didn't know you were here," she managed.

"Mom! Come on!" Nick's voice echoed down the hall, peppered with youthful annoyance. "Ms. Gordon says you have to stay with the group."

She saw Vince's eyes darken and panic gripped her heart, a panic that she had never known. How could fate deal her these two blows so quickly? Every pore of her being cried out for him not to look at him, not to see the resemblance that was so obvious. Nick grabbed her hand and yanked, finally noticing the rest of the band standing around his mother.

Vince's eyes dropped to the boy's face. She saw recognition flicker, and then he glanced at her, she could see the questions forming in his mind. There was no way he couldn't see it; Nick looked just like his father.

"We're, we're on a class trip. I have to go."

"Hey, are you the guy from Gunslinger?" Nick looked up at Vince, cocking his head to the side. "You sing that song that always makes my mom cry."

Lily turned white and she could feel her hand tightening on Nick's.

Vince smiled and squatted down to Nick's height. "Is that right?" Nick gave him a big smile. "What's your name, little guy?"

"Nick."

"Vince." They shook hands.

Lily could hear Roger and Brian whispering together, her cheeks felt warm, but her body was frozen with fear, a strange, empty fear. "Nick, let's catch up to the class."

"Lily," Vince said, straightening.

"I know," she whispered, feeling all the strength leaving her body. "I'll meet you in the lobby in an hour."

"Lily, are you coming?" Nick's teacher was walking towards them, Vince's back was to her, but at her voice he turned and caught her eye. "Oh, excuse me." Her gaze flickered from Nick's face to Vince's. Lily felt like the world was closing in, judging her, deciding if her decision had been the right one with out even knowing the circumstances.

"We're coming," Lily said to the teacher, grabbing Nick by the hand.

"'Bye." He waved to Vince.

She could feel Vince's eyes on her back as she hurried down the hall, her gut tangled into a knot, her head pounding as the reality of what had just happened settled in.

An hour later Lily settled in the lobby, a knot the size of a watermelon crowded into her stomach with the rest of her internal organs. She had helped the teacher load up the bus and arranged for Nick to go home with the boy that lived next door. The tour had been a blur; words had flowed in one ear and out the other. And then it had been over, too quickly. She wanted more time, needed more time to think before she could talk to him. She needed to know what to say. How to explain to him what she had done, why she had never told him, never contacted him.

"Lily," Vince's voice startled her as he came up behind her. She glanced back at him, his mouth was a stiff line and his eyes were cold and reserved, his face a hard mask of anger, angular, rocky.

"Hi," she murmured. She was too aware of him; his presence was too big, too overwhelming. He made her knees weak, had always made her knees weak. The very sight of him made her dizzy, the control she had fought so hard for since she had seen him in the hallway was slipping through her fingers like sand and she fought to cling to it. He loosely grabbed the top of her arm and hauled her up out of the seat. Her skin burned where he had touched her, sensitivity radiated outwards from where his fingertips brushed against her. Her stomach filled with butterflies.

"I know a restaurant," was all he said.

He roughly pulled her out onto the street, his eyes stayed straight ahead, but she could see the set of his jaw and the grim line of his mouth. He dragged her along behind him, never letting go of her arm until they reached the restaurant. He herded her into the back and roughly shoved her into one side of the booth.

"He's mine," he said it as a statement, not a question. He continued without waiting for an answer. "That's why you left?"

She nodded, a golf ball had somehow managed to wedge itself in her throat and she was having a hard time talking around it.

He slammed his fist down onto the table, sending the glasses and the silverware jingling. "I wasted ten goddamn years trying to figure out what the hell I did to you."

"I'm sorry," she said softly, wincing from the harshness of his words and the violence with which he had struck the table. "I didn't mean..." She trailed off, not sure of what she was trying to say.

Vince licked his lips, an old habit. It sent a shiver up her spine. She could suddenly remember the feel of his tongue; remember what it was like to kiss him, to make love to him. She could remember his guitar callused hands scraping against her raw, feverish flesh. She was shocked at the sensations that were flooding through her, pooling at the bottom of her stomach. She suddenly needed to touch him, to feel his hand in hers, to feel his bare skin. She curled her fingers into a ball and sat on her hands.

"I have a son," he said. His voice was distant, his eyes focused somewhere behind her. "I have a kid you never bothered to tell me about."

"I'm sorry," she said again. She bit her lip.

"You're awfully apologetic."

"I didn't think you would ever find out," she said honestly.

"And that makes it okay?" He ground his teeth and his eyes blazed.

"Can I start you with some drinks?"

Lily jumped at the waiter who had appeared beside the table.

Vince sat back in his chair, his eyes smoldering, clinging to her. "Jack Daniels, on the rock."

"Some things haven't changed," she muttered. "I'll have a mineral water, with extra ice and a lime."

"Something's never change," Vince quipped, giving her a sarcastic smile. His eyes lazily rolled to the waiter as he departed with their drink order.

"Vince, I am sorry. I never thought you would find out."

"But I did." His eyes returned to hers, studying her.

"I was young. I was so scared and I didn't know what it would do to us. To the band." She looked down at the tablecloth.

"That's such a good excuse. 'I was young; I didn't know what I was doing.' You can't imagine how many times I've used it."

"I'm sure I can."

Vince raised his eyebrows. "You just know me so well, don't you?" his tone was weary, threaded with sarcasm.

Anger bit into her. "I know you well enough that I knew you couldn't support us! You couldn't even support yourself! And I knew you well enough to know you wouldn't change. And I wasn't going to raise a baby in that environment."

"And what about after our first album?" Vince snapped.

The waiter appeared with their drinks and asked if they were ready to order. Lily ordered a salad and Vince ordered steak.

"What's a matter, you on a diet?" Vince asked.

"No, I'm just not very hungry."

He studied her. "You will be when you see my steak, best in the city."

Lily pinched the bridge of her nose. "You think we could stay on the subject."

"What was that, what a crappy provider I was?"

Lily let out a breath and stabbed the ice cubes with her straw. "Can you really argue with me Vince? Roger smoked enough to give us all lung cancer; nobody ever had any money..."

Vince shook his head. "Jesus, it wasn't that bad."

"What about when the electricity was turned off for three weeks. The only reason it got turned back on was because I called my mom and begged her for the money!" Her voice had steadily climbed and she suddenly became aware of how high her pitch was. She lowered her voice. "But I'm sure you don't remember that." She looked pointedly at his drink.

Vince lifted his whiskey glass and studied the amber colored liquid swirl, catching the light from the lamp that hung over the booth. "You could have told me."

She was silent. She couldn't argue with him. It was something that still plagued her, still haunted her. If she had been right in keeping Nick from his father. But damned if she would ever admit that to him. "I saved you the trouble of making the hardest decision of your life."

"That what you tell yourself?" Vince took a drink from his glass.

"I don't tell myself anything. I don't need to." _Liar,_ her mind whispered. "Amazing as it seems I really don't think about you."

"Liar," the word rolled off his tongue, an echo of her own thoughts.

"What exactly is it that you want?" she asked pointedly. Her cheeks were flaming, her neck felt hot as a blush crept up from her chest.

"To get to know my kid." His eyes were heavy, taking her in over the rim of his glass. "I think you owe me that."

"I don't think I owe you anything."

"Don't make this hard, Lily." The tone of his voice was soft and intimate, but there was an underlying threat.

"Vince, it's not a good idea."

"Oh, really?"

She pursed her lips and stared at him.

"You want to know what I don't think is a good idea? Going to court against my lawyer in a custody fight."

The blood in her veins turned to ice and cold fear wrapped it's tentacles around her lungs, suffocating her. "You wouldn't."

"Don't make me."

His callus astounded her. This was the man who had held her when she had cried, who kissed away her tears. Who had watched her paint, listened to her stories, laid awake making plans with her. He was the only person who had encouraged her, nurtured her. The only person she had ever confided her dreams in. The only person she had ever felt safe with. And now he was threatening her. "You bastard," she hissed.

"I think you have me confused with someone else. I know my daddy."

"I can't believe you could be such an asshole."

"Listen, if you would stop insulting me I could tell you my plan."

"You're plan?" she asked incredulously.

"You got a job, right?"

"Yes," she said cautiously.

"You work over the summer?"

"Yeah."

"Who watches Nick?"

Lily let out a deep breath. "My parents."

Vince made a face. "Jesus, Lil. What are you trying to do to him?"

She swallowed and managed a weak smile. "He has really good table manners."

"I'm sure. He's also probably well read in the satanic verses and Nazism."

"Vince," Lily warned.

"Forget it," he said dismissively. "Let me take him for the summer."

"Take him?" her voice was shrill with alarm. "Vince, he doesn't know you!"

Vince ran his fingers through his hair. "Fine, let me baby-sit him. You live in the city?"

"Connecticut."

He looked at her like she was soap scum that had molded in the grout. "Connecticut? My God, what happened to you, Lil?"

"I grew up, Vince."

The food arrived and Lily pushed her lettuce around with her fork. She felt hollow, a hole had appeared in her stomach that had nothing to do with hunger. At least not the kind of hunger that food would satisfy. She had made a life for herself and her son, a life she thought she wanted.

"Can I get a beer when you get a chance?" Vince asked the waiter who had just placed a sizzling steak the size of Lily's arm in front of him.

"You drink too much," she commented absently.

"You complain too much," he said dryly. "Besides, I've had a hell of a day."

"Vince I don't think I can do this, I just don't think it's a good idea. Any of it."

Vince didn't say anything, just cut the corner of his steak and chewed on it for a minute.

"Vince, I don't want to hurt you-"

"It's a little late." He ducked his head. "I missed ten years Lily."

"What do I tell him?"

"The truth?" he finished chewing and swallowed. "What did you tell him anyway?"

"About what?"

"About me. About this father?"

"I told him that his father wasn't in his life. He seemed to accept that."

Vince finished chewing and stared at her. "This is bullshit."

"Vince, stop acting like a four year old. This is just the way it is."

"It's not fair."

"Life isn't fair."

"Oh Jesus Christ Lily, you can't expect me to just walk away from this! This is my son. Either we do this easily or we'll do it the hard way. It doesn't matter to me."

"Vince, if you know what's best for him you will leave this alone."

"How could I know what's best for him? I've only met him this afternoon!"

"Vince if you don't lower your voice-" she snapped, her eyes blazing.

"What?" he sat back with lazy insolence. "What will you do to me?"

She slumped back in her chair. "Forget it."

"Lily, this isn't a joke."

She felt herself close; she pulled her arms around herself, protectively. She felt like she was being assaulted, betrayed. A lump formed in her throat to match the knot that had twisted in her chest and she fought tears with everything she had left. She wouldn't cry in front of him, she wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

"What am I supposed to tell him?" Her voice was husky, her eyes studied the tablecloth.

"I don't know Lily, tell him whatever you want."

"What am I suppose to do?" Vince Maddox was sitting slumped low in the chair, his feet propped on the coffee table, flipping through a magazine.

"You're not giving me a mullet!" Roger Harrington was shouting. Yves Montgomery was standing next to him with a pair of scissors and a comb.

"Roger," he said with a thick accent of unknown origin. It seemed to suspiciously change slightly between appointments. "You sink I vill give you a mullet?"

"You are not cutting the top off. That's a mullet, Frenchie."

"No! Not too short, just layers!"

"Just trim it!" Roger yelled. "Christ, every time I want a trim I have to fight with you!"

"If I am so terrible why do you keep coming to me?" Yves said.

"Fine! Maybe I won't!" Roger glared at the wounded Yves in the mirror.

"Fine yourself! You go to _Snip and Cut_ or whatever and pay $12 for a haircut! See if I care!"

It was a familiar argument and Vince mostly ignored them.

"Can you focus? This is sort of a big deal," Vince said.

"And you sink haircut is not big deal?" Yves accent changed subtly from French to Russian.

"It sounds like you handled it pretty well," Roger said, swatting Yves away. "Get off of me! You're standing to close," he snapped.

"I never met someone who complains so much!"

"Can we please stay on subject?"

"She looked good, didn't she?" Roger said.

"I didn't notice," Vince said darkly.

"Sure you did."

"Roger, I just found out I have a son, the last thing I was thinking about was sex." He ignored the rush of desire that the memory of her brought. She had looked good. Too damn good. He had studied every feature, amazed at how much he had remembered and the little things he had forgotten. The delicate bones in her face, the edge of her jaw. How small and thin her hands were; artist's hands. He could remember her painting in their tiny bedroom in Los Angeles. Her easel shoved into the corner, surrounded by equipment. He would come up behind her, she would only be wearing an oversized T-shirt and he would ease his hands underneath it, discovering she was completely naked underneath, his hands would roam and she would arch into him...

"NOT SO SHORT!" Roger screamed, ripping the scissors from Yves hands.

"I am not making it so short!" Yves yelled back, wrestling for his scissors. "You need layers! You want a cone head?"

"I don't have a cone head! I've had the same goddamn hairstyle for fifteen years! Vince! Do I have a cone head?"

Vince didn't even bother looking up. "Nope."

"You want to look like Bette Midler with a crappy die job, fine!" Yves yelled.

"Just trim my freaking hair!"

"You look like Howard Stern."

"I do not. Vince, do I look like Howard Stern?"

"You're much better looking."

"Of course he's going to say that. But you're hair does," Yves corrected.

"Howard Stern has good hair. Anyway, I thought I looked like Bette Midler."

"You want to look like Bette Midler?"

Roger rolled his eyes. "I'm in a hair band for Gods sake, you already got me to stop using Aqua Net, what more do you want from me?"

"You remember when she left?" Vince asked.

"Oh man, you were annoying. All you did was mope and write crappy songs."

"It seems like such a long time ago."

"It was."

"It's like another lifetime."

"Ow! Stop pulling my hair!"

"If you would brush it ever it wouldn't hurt so much," Yves said giving a particularly vicious yank to Roger's dark hair.

"What would have happened if she told me?" Vince asked, already knowing the answer.

"Either she would have gone home anyway, had the baby and maybe you would have seen him a couple times a year or you would have quit the band and I'd be sitting here with some other guy and you'd be unclogging toilets in a school somewhere in Alabama."

"Alabama? Why do I have to live in Alabama?"

"I'm trying to make it sound as unpleasant as possible."

"What were we like ten years ago?"

"Broke," Roger said, looking at him in the mirror. "We were really, really, really broke."

"That's what Lily said. I don't remember it being that bad."

"You romanticize things. That's why you're a good song writer. But we were really broke. And when we did have money we spent it on really stupid things."

"I guess she was right."

"That's still not a good excuse for her not to have told you." Roger winced as Yves dragged the comb through his hair, yanking his head back.

"Did we have the electricity turned off for three weeks?"

"Yeah, sucked because I couldn't play my Gibson and I had to use that crappy nylon string acoustic to practice."

"I really don't remember that."

"You don't remember that?"

"No, when I think about LA I remember parties, gigs. Lighting Tommy's hair on fire. Lily."

"Remember how pissed off Tommy was when I went after him with that hairspray and the lighter?"

"I missed nine birthdays, nine Christmases, Halloweens. And listen to this, Rog, this kid is going to be so screwed up, he spends summers with Lily's mom."

Roger grimaced. "Queen Bitch herself. So what did you guys decide?"

"I can watch him over the summer. At her house, in Connecticut."

"Connecticut? This is like a horror movie." He framed his hands like a marquee. " _Aging Rock star takes over small Connecticut town in.... Invasion of the Rock Stars._ "

"Clever," Vince said mournfully. "And I'm not aging, I'm only thirty-two."

"Thirty-two is aging for a rock star." Roger shot Yves a dangerous look as his scissors got a little to far up the length of his hair. "He looks just like you."

Vince smiled. "I know."

"Isn't it weird to think we were his age when we met? Doesn't it seem like we were taller or something?"

"You already smoked."

"Did not."

"I can't figure out how someone that smokes so much got so tall. Isn't smoking supposed to stunt your growth?"

"It's all lies cooked up by the liberals."

"Really? The liberals are against smoking?" Vince said, shaking his head at Yves.

"The liberals are against everything."

Vince rolled his eyes at him.

"Vince, I'm going to be serious for a minute, don't get scared."

"Whenever you're serious you usually don't agree with me."

"I think maybe you shouldn't be too hard on her."

"See? I don't know why you can't ever take my side."

"Because you are an irrational person."

"I'm perfectly rational."

"Vince, this happened a long time ago. You have to be able to let go of things that you can't control." He met his eyes in the mirror and the words took on another meaning. A meaning that made Vince's heart squeeze with pain. He looked away, back at the magazine in his lap. "Don't cry over spilled milk."

"But I could have controlled it. I could have tried harder to find her, I could have kept trying to see her...I thought I did everything I could." He clenched his fists.

"Just like you could have saved Tommy?" Roger asked, arching his brow and voicing the thoughts that were suspended in the air between them. "Hindsight is twenty-twenty, bro. You didn't know, you just thought she wanted to go to college or Art school or whatever the hell she was going to do. You couldn't have known."

"She was on the pill, I don't know how it could have happened," Vince said. He found himself staring at an advertisement for Laundry Detergent with a mother and father and a little blond kid running through sheets hanging on the line. He flipped to another page.

"You wrote that god awful song for her," Roger said. "I don't see how you could have done anything else."

"I don't know how you can say this, this song is so vonderful," Yves said, trimming the back layers of Roger's hair. "It's the only Gunslinger song I like."

"It's corny and you like it because you're corny too."

Vince let his head fall back and he counted the ceiling tiles. "I just wish I'd known. I don't like to think about him growing up and thinking I didn't want him."

"You got a chance, Vince. That's more than you could have had."

It hit him suddenly, if he had been a minute later coming out of the studio he would never have seen her, he would never have known that he had a child. He could have gone through his entire life without ever knowing that somewhere there was a boy who looked exactly like him that had been born by the only women he had ever loved.

Chapter 2

Lily sat with her head resting against the glass on the back of the train. Her mind kept chanting four words over and over; _I saw Vince today._ She had sealed herself against the knowledge that she would never see him again. And for ten years she had lain awake in her bed imagining what it would be like if she did. She had tried to ignore the dreams, the thoughts that popped up out of nowhere, the nostalgia. She had pushed that part of her life so far behind her, forced herself to stop thinking about him, dreaming about him, craving him. And when she had allowed herself to think about him, to fantasize, it was very different from the reality of their meeting today.

Lily had been sixteen, dragged to a show in the seediest part of New York with three of her friends. She hadn't wanted to go and settled at a seat in the bar with more than a little trepidation and reluctance. But there was something in the way that he moved, the way he held the crowds attention. He was a perfect front man, raw energy, a voice that could scream like the devil or purr like a kitten. His bare chest was lean, hard muscles rippling beneath tanned skin, his hair had been longer, falling in long blond ripples past his shoulders like a young Robert Plant. After the show he's pushed past her at the bar, spilling her drink onto her shirt. She hadn't expected him to care, but he had. He had gotten her a towel and apologized, bought her a new drink. There was an unexpected kindness in him, something that always surprised her. She had gone out to the shore with the band that night, drank Whiskey and stayed out until almost four in the morning. They drove back to the city in Brian's beat up Dodge Pinto and he had dropped them off in front of Vince's building on the outskirts of Harlem. She could still remember the nervousness, the anticipation she had felt climbing the stairwell. The apartment had been dark and they whispered as he led her through the maze of corridors to his room. He'd closed the door behind him and flipped the light switch, revealing a tiny room with a single mattress on the floor and an oversized stereo in the corner. The walls had been covered with heavy metal and classic rock posters and he had self-consciously kicked the piles of dirty clothes into the closet with his foot. And when he had turned to look at her, he had lost some of the impermeable shell that surrounded him on stage, he lost some of his swagger and was merely human. They lay facing each other in the small bed and she had whispered it was her first time and he had stroked her hair and skimmed his fingertips across her inner arm. He had said there was no rush, he had kissed her gently, opening her mouth as if it were a rare flower blooming, savoring each crevice, kissing her as intimately as if they were making love. But he hadn't made love to her, he treated her as if she were made of spun glass, too fragile to handle. In the morning he had walked her to the subway station and again she was again struck by his vulnerability, how human he looked with his eyes blurred from sleep, wearing an old flannel shirt, his hands stuck deep in the pockets of his faded corduroys. He had kissed her on the subway platform.

"I'd like to see you again," he had said with more sincerity than she had expected.

"I'd like that," she said.

She had given him her phone number, half expecting to never hear from him again, but it hadn't deterred her from jumping up out of her seat every time the phone rang, and after an agonizing three days he had called her and invited her to a show in Coney Island.

Lily smiled faintly at the memory, it seemed like another lifetime it was so long ago. In her mind she could paint pictures of the two of them, remember old photo's that were hidden in a scrapbook in her closet. Remember the smoothness of his cheeks, the intensity in his eyes. She could remember his hands, how they had felt on her skin, exploring her body. She shook herself, sitting up straighter in her seat. She couldn't think about this, wouldn't allow herself. The Rhode Island School of Design had to be traded in for the Fashion Institute of Technology in New York so that she could live at home after Nick was born. She had been driving home from the city when Nick was barely a month old with the radio on when she heard the song. It began softly, a simple guitar melody, and then she had heard Vince's voice. Soft, like when he would whisper to her, like a gentle caress. The drums and bass kicked in and then Roger's guitar had screamed, crashing through the magic of the music like awakening from a dream. The lyrics went from the beauty of love to the pain of losing it. She could hear every emotion in Vince's voice; every note reflected the same craving, needing that she felt through every pore of her being; it was called Lily White. Her first reaction was to call him, to find him and tell him it was all a mistake. She loved him, she needed him. But then she realized it hadn't been a mistake. She would hold them back, she would hold him back. She had a baby. She couldn't stand how unfair it was, that she had to choose between the only man she had ever loved and his happiness, his freedom. And with time it became apparent that she had made the right decision as wild stories of drugs and alcohol, parties and women began to circle the band like vultures ready to strike. And they had. Five years after the release of their first multi-platinum album, Tommy Hart, the drummer for the band had died in a fiery crash leaving his house in Los Angeles. While Roger and Vince had been the brain of the band, writing songs and handling business, Tommy had been the heart. There was never a sweeter, kinder person. But even when she had first met him she could see the pain in his eyes, there was something he was hiding from, something that had always driven him to make bad decisions, to create chaos, no matter how unintentionally, wherever he went. And he had left Gunslinger in the wake of his destruction. Vince and Tommy had met in grade school and shortly after had come across Roger in the school yard. They formed a trio and in their first year of junior high a quiet kid named Brian Richards who had just moved from Tennessee asked if they needed a bassist. She wasn't sure how they all fit together but somehow they had. Vince and Tommy had been the rowdiest; there was something that could be cool and reserved in Roger, and Brian would disappear after a show and later she would hear them picking on him because he had gone home to bed. Steady and predictable, Roger had always said. Just like a bass should be.

When Tommy died she knew Vince would take it the hardest. He took responsibility for everyone around him that he cared about and she would cry at night, for Tommy and for Vince. Because she wished that she could be there to comfort him, to kiss away his tears. She bit her lip at the memory of who had been there to comfort him, a supermodel named Ava Christian who managed the task with an acre of tanned legs and a yard of platinum hair. They were married in a lavish ceremony in New York two months after Tommy's death and they were divorced a year later. She had moved to Connecticut after the wedding, her parents had helped her buy a house outside of Hartford when she was offered a position in a big advertising firm. And she told herself she was happy. She had a beautiful, healthy son who every day looked more and more like his father and she had a job that was tolerable but gave her financial freedom from her parents. The constant reminders that her life had not turned out either the way she had wanted it to or the way that her parents had hoped slowly faded into a sense of normalcy and a rhythmic pattern of days spreading into weeks and then suddenly into years. She forgot that idealistic Lily, the Lily that wanted to paint, the Lily that thought she could love Vince forever.

He wanted to watch Nick for the summer. Her heart skipped a beat at the thought of living under the same roof again, of seeing him every day; her skin was still tingled with the memory of where he had branded her with his touch. Where his eyes had roamed while they took in her body, the curve of her hips, the swell of her breasts, she had felt his eyes on her as surely as if he had touched her. She had always thought if this day ever came it would be different, that maybe he would understand that what she had done was best for everyone. That he might forgive her for hurting him now that he saw why she had done it. When he was younger his temper had been like a wildfire, fast and hot, consuming everything in its path. He had reined it in, it was subtler now, hiding just beneath the surface, she was aware of it, aware of his anger and hurt.

She let out a deep sigh. This was going to be a long summer.

"You are not going to let this go are you?" Roger said later that night. He was wearing an apron that said Kiss the Chef in bold letters and he had tied his hair into a bun on top of his head. He was chopping leeks and sliding them into a pan.

"This is a big deal," Vince said, chewing on a celery stalk. "What the hell are you making?"

"Polenta," Roger replied. "I still don't think you understand the debauchery that went on in that household."

Vince got up and grabbed another beer from Roger's refrigerator.

"Speaking of which, _Flagrant Debauchery_ is playing Saturday, you coming?"

"Naw, I'm going to Lily's for dinner."

Roger went back to chopping mushrooms. "I'll see if Brian will go with me."

"I'm sorry bro, I got this thing, I have to go 'meet' Nick and figure out how this whole babysitting thing is going to work."

"It's cool, Brian will go with me. She gonna pay you for babysitting?"

Vince smiled. "I wonder what the going rate is now? $10 an hour?"

"More than we get paid."

"I wonder if I would have been happy if Lily had stayed and had the baby and I cleaned toilets in Alabama."

Roger turned to the stove and tilted the cutting board and scrapped the mushrooms into the pot with the knife. "I don't think you quiet remember how bad it was, Vince. We didn't eat all that much."

"But I was in love."

"You shouldn't have been. Don't you remember we said no girls?"

"She was different."

Roger scooted up onto the counter and took a long drink from his own beer. "Vince, this is ancient history. Let it go."

"I can't. I've never been so angry."

Roger reached behind him and shook a cigarette from the pack. "You have a right to be angry with her, but you should stop being angry at yourself."

"What's the difference?"

Roger paused as he lit his cigarette. "Big difference. Listen, let's not talk about this anymore."

"Is Brian coming to dinner?" Vince asked.

"Marriage counseling," Roger said. "That's what marriage gets you."

"And Zack is out with what's her name, Ms. September."

"I don't think Zack even knows what her name is, he just keeps calling her Ms. September." Roger slid off the counter and got out the milk from the refrigerator. He measured out a mixture of water and milk and poured it into the pot.

Vince rested his head in his hands. He couldn't get the image of Nick out of his mind, a perfect replica of himself at that age. It was odd, thinking that this little boy was a part of him, a piece of him that had grown up without him. A sense of betrayal filled him, and threatened to strangle him. The knowledge that she could not only leave him, walk out on him without even saying goodbye, but that she could have lied to him, betrayed him for ten years. Keep his child hidden from him. It was amazing how much it hurt him, more than he could ever put into words. Anger bubbled below the surface of his emotions, threatening to boil over, to eat him alive like acid.

There was something about her that had gotten him the first time he saw her. She had been the most beautiful thing that he ever saw, a fragile beauty. Delicate, soft, vulnerable. Her green eyes were too big and expressive, every emotion was mirrored in her eyes. Her hair fell like dark silk, threaded with red and gold, pale flawless skin pulled tightly over the fine bones of her face. She had something that he craved, a quiet strength, a resilience beneath her fragile exterior. He could count on her; she was the only person who had ever been there for him, always. She had been so loyal and devoted, so loving. That was what had been so hard about all of it. That she had looked at him with those huge green eyes and lied to him. That she had left him with nothing, alone. After she had left he called her parents house non-stop, needing to talk to her, to understand. After three agonizing weeks he gave up, retreating into himself, shutting out everything. His heart was shattered, but there was a song that started playing in his head and the words flowed onto the paper and through the frets of his guitar. Roger, in his usual fashion, hated it, but messed around with some tough riffs to give it some credibility. Brian had cried when he looked over the lyrics, and Tommy had treated it like it had leprosy. But somehow they worked it into the set and the crowds went wild. The producer that had been interested in their work recorded a demo and the record companies ate it up. And then it was a whirlwind of tours and records. And then suddenly they had everything that they ever wanted, every wish that they had was granted. But the only thing that he had wanted was to know why she left, and why she had never come back. Years passed and he slowly forgot the raw pain that grated at his heart every time he thought about her. Slowly the torrid dreams faded, her elusive scent was lost in a sea of other women's perfume, lost, but not forgotten. At night, when he was alone in strange cities, standing at a hotel window looking out on the big city lights, he would think about her. He would think about where she was, what she was doing. And he would close his eyes and remember the smell of her, the taste of her. What it had been like to make love to her, how safe he had felt inside of her. And then a cold, icy dullness would set in. Anger at her, anger at himself for being weak. For clinging to a women who could so callously disregard him.

Chapter 3

That Saturday they had made plans for dinner. Lily had spent the day cleaning and cooking although the end result had been a minor stove fire and a burned pot of béchamel sauce. By six-thirty, when Vince was scheduled to arrive, she had given up and was thawing a package of frozen hotdogs in the sink.

He was late, as usual, which gave Lily a chance to calm her nerves. She'd been racing around like a madwoman all day and now standing by the sink running lukewarm water over the Ballpark Franks, she thought she had herself under control.

Then the doorbell rang.

She ran into the hall bathroom to make sure she looked okay, telling herself she really didn't care. She wore a T-shirt and shorts and her feet were bare, and her hair was pulled into a high ponytail. She heard Nick running through the living room to get to the door and scurried back to the sink, trying her best to look nonchalant.

She heard voices in the hall and a moment later Vince appeared with a big bouquet of flowers, a bottle of wine and a wrapped present for Nick.

He surveyed the mess in the kitchen. "Smells good," he said sarcastically. "What are we having?"

Lily shot him a look. "Hot dogs."

He handed Nick the gift and laid the flowers and wine on the counter. "Big mess for Hot Dogs."

"I made them from scratch," Lily said sarcastically. "It took all day."

"She was trying to make lasagna," Nick said from the table where he had sat down to examine the wrapped box Vince had given him.

Lily shot him a dark look and turned the water off. "We had some problems." She looked around the kitchen. Dirty pots were cluttering the stove and the sink was filled with mixing bowls and utensils. The unfinished lasagna was at the bottom of the garbage can under the sink. The Marina sauce had bubbled over and was splattered across the stove surface.

"You used to be a good cook," Vince said with a smile, leaning against the counter. He wore loose green cargo pants and an old ARMY T-shirt. He had pulled his hair into a ponytail at the nape of his neck and tucked the end into the rubber band to form a loop.

"I still am," Lily said dryly, ignoring the feelings knotting in her stomach at the mention of their history.

"You want some help? I took cooking lessons," he said with amusement.

"No." Lily tore open the package of hotdogs and stormed out the sliding doors to the propane grill on the back deck. She had to get a hold of herself; she couldn't spend the rest of the summer stomping around like a four-year-old having a temper tantrum. She took a deep breath and laid the Hot Dogs on the rack. They popped and sizzled as they touched the hot surface. She had left the buns out by the grill and when the Dogs were almost done she lay the rolls open on the wire rack to warm them. She could hear Nick giving Vince a tour through the open windows, his laughter and Vince's strong, deep voice. It sounded so right, a little boy and his father.

They came through the sliding door, laughing. Lily took a moment to let the picture sink in. Nick had always been a little shy, but there was none of that with Vince, they seemed to have instantly fallen in love with each other.

"So what were you doing in the studio? Trying to keep up with the times?" Lily put the plate of Hot Dogs onto the table on the deck and handed out paper plates. She suddenly realized how little current news she knew about him or the band.

"No, actually we're putting together a greatest hits album and then we head off for a tour this fall."

She felt a little twinge in her stomach. "A Tour?" She told herself she didn't care. She didn't even want him here now, so why was she upset about three months from now. He would be gone and Nick would be back in school. Everything would be back to normal.

"Our farewell tour," Vince squirted ketchup onto his hot dog and then passed it to Nick. She could see Nick casting an eye on Vince's to judge how much to use.

"Farewell? Are you breaking up?"

Vince finished chewing before he answered. "Yeah, but not for any dramatic reason. Everyone's got other stuff going on. Roger's been doing some producing he's really into, Brian and his wife want to start a flower and card shop, well, she wants to start it, he wants to sit on the beach all day-"

Lily wiped her mouth. "Brian's married?"

Vince grinned. His smile went straight to his eyes, just like Nick. "You're way behind on the news, huh?"

Nick grabbed another hot dog and Vince squirted Ketchup on his and Nick's and then poured Nick another cup of sprite. It seemed so right, the way things were supposed to be. There was such ease between them, something she and Nick didn't have. He was very different from her, and she was realizing now how very much like Vince he was.

Vince licked a spot of ketchup of his finger and set his food down. It stuck her how little he had changed, through fame and fortune he was the same guy she had met in a bar in Manhattan fourteen years ago. There was no snobbishness, no, been-there-done-that attitude. "Brian married the wardrobe girl from the 1990 tour." Vince's eyes darkened a little.

"When Tommy died," Lily finished. She looked at Nick and then back at Vince. His eyes were full of raw pain.

"Yeah, when Tommy died." Vince wiped his hands on a napkin and crumpled it up.

"I'm sorry Vince."

He stared out at the backyard and the pool. "There's nothing to be sorry about. It was his own fault."

Vince got up and gathered the plates and glasses. Nick jumped up to help him and the two brought in the mess from the table, leaving Lily alone.

She got up and walked to the pool. The water was warm. Guilt was beginning to crowd into her stomach with all the other emotions she felt. Guilt that she had never called him, even after Tommy died. She heard Nick's laughter spilling from an open window and it cut into her heart. She didn't want to question her decisions.

Vince came back out on the porch carrying the bottle of wine and two glasses. Lily strolled back up to the deck and sat down on a wicker chair. She looked at the wine.

"Vince, this is a really nice bottle," She looked up at him. "Are you sure you want to open this?"

He shrugged. "It all tastes the same to me. People keep giving this stuff to me." He stuck a corkscrew into the cork and twisted.

"Where's Nick?"

"Upstairs. I got him a complicated Lego set. It should keep him busy for a while." He poured wine into the glasses and set one in front of her. He rested his hand at the base of his glass and started to gently swirl the wine.

Lily rolled her eyes. "Where did you learn that?"

Vince lifted his eyebrows and did his best snobbish face. "My dear, it's the only way to release the _bouquet_ ," he said in a French accent, exaggerating the last word.

"I thought they all tasted the same," she said, laughing.

He made a nasal sound and looked at her disdainfully. He took a sip of wine and sucked air through the front of his teeth.

Lily burst out laughing.

"I've come a long way since you saw me last. Your mother would be proud."

His words sobered her. She took a sip of wine. "Vince, I don't want this to be weird between us. I know I was a little upset when I saw you. It was such a shock."

"Yeah, well you know I was expecting all of this." He waved his hand around. "Those psychic friends really know their stuff."

"Shut up, I'm being serious." She settled back into the chair and pulled her legs up, tucking them under her. "What I'm trying to say is, I want you and Nick to have a relationship. And maybe what I did was wrong. I didn't do it to be mean or spiteful or to keep anything from you. I thought what I was doing was best for everyone. And I'm sorry if I hurt you. I hope it doesn't get in the way."

"Forget it, Lily. As Roger loves to say, _it's the past_."

She could tell from his eyes he was lying. She had hurt him. She could see it was as painful for him as it was for her.

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

He looked at her, a little surprised. "Of course I am. I do like children, Lily." He looked back out onto the yard. "Anyway, it's not like I have to change diapers or anything. I missed that whole stage." He was being flip, but she sensed the pain of regret in his voice.

She took a deep breath and took another sip of wine. "How have you been?"

"Fine."

"I read you got married."

"And I got divorced."

"She was a model."

He shrugged.

Lily didn't say anything.

"I don't want to talk about her."

"She was really beautiful."

Vince shot her a dark look. "You can't get jealous, you left me."

"I didn't leave you."

Vince settled into his chair and poured her another glass of wine. "This is a stupid conversation."

"Where are you living?"

"Mostly North Carolina, the outer banks. But I have houses other places."

"You haven't changed much, Vince."

"You have."

His words stung, but before she could respond Nick came through the door.

"Vince, can you help me with the space ship? I can't get it to go together."

"Sure. You got the space station all put together?"

"Yeah," Nick said, tugging on his hand.

"Smart kid." He got up and walked to the door. He turned and winked at Lily over his shoulder. "Must be my side of the family."

Lily downed the rest of her wine. She didn't know if she could do this. On the surface he joked with her, but every little dig, every comment was laced with something spiky. Something to draw a little blood. This was for Nick, she told herself. And what happens in the fall? A voice in the back of her head asked. Or when he goes back to North Carolina? She rested her head in her hands. She could feel a headache starting at the base of her neck, working its way up her spine into her skull. She didn't know why this had happened. How fate had thrown her such a curve ball, how blind sided she had been. She could never imagine running into him on a class trip, with Nick. It was all so perfect, like an orchestrated plan to ruin her life. _It's not about you, anymore._ She had to remember that.

Vince let out a breath he wasn't aware he was holding. Nick was on the floor beside him and the two of them were struggling to read the directions for the space ship.

"I think you have to put the red ones in the front," Vince said. He was thinking about Lily. Thinking he should stop pushing her buttons. He just got upset around her. He was lashing out and he knew it. He just couldn't help it. The casual, callus way she said she was sorry. Sorry for leaving him, sorry for never telling him why, sorry for hiding his child from him for ten years. Admitting that _maybe_ she had made a mistake, hoping that he could forgive her.

The house irked him more than he wanted to admit. It was too big, too much like her parents house. There were paintings on the walls, but none of Lily's. The knickknacks were all bought and the only personal things were a smattering of picture frames of Lily and Nick and her parents. It seemed so impersonal, so sterile, everything in its place. Just the way Eleanor would want it.

He looked at Nick and felt tenderness fill him as he watched the boy struggle to read the instructions and piece together the pieces. He suddenly realized how fortunate he was to be here, sitting beside Nick in the floor of his bedroom. If he had been two seconds later he wouldn't have run into Lily and he would never know he even had a son. How could she say she was sorry when she would have never told him on her own? If she had her way he would never know the boy in front of him.

"You think really hard," Nick said, not looking up from his model. "I can hear you."

Vince laughed. "I was thinking it'll be nice to get to know you this summer."

"You knew my mom a long time ago, huh?"

"Yeah, before you were born."

"Did you write that song about my mom?"

He thought for a long time before he answered. "Yeah, I did, but don't tell her."

Nick didn't smile. "She made you sad?"

"It was a long time ago."

Nick pushed two Lego's together. "I like that song. Mom doesn't like it when I listen to that kind of music, but I heard it on the radio and she used to play it sometimes. She'd always cry."

He looked over at Vince, his eyes clear and aware. Vince could see in his eyes that he knew.

"What kind of music do you listen to?" Vince asked.

Nick got up and went to the bookshelf; he pulled out a rack of tapes and brought it back. "My mom makes me listen to classical music. She says it'll make me smart."

"Classical music?" Vince said with disdain.

"My friend Joey, he lives next door, his mom really likes all kinds of music. She has a lot of your records. I like listening to that when I go over there. I told her I met you and that you were going to baby-sit me this summer. She's going to come over and get your autograph. She said it was kind of weird that you were babysitting me because you were famous and you probably didn't need any money. But I told her that you were an old friend of my moms and then she said she understood."

Vince chuckled inside. She probably though Lily was an old groupie. The thought made him feel better. "It'll be nice to meet her."

"Yeah, she's real nice. She had two cats. One's yellow and one's black. They're named after Joe Elliott from Def Leppard and Nikki Sixx from Motley Crue."

"How come she doesn't have one named after me?" Vince asked with twinkling eyes.

"I asked her and she said there was only one yellow one and she always had a crush on Joe Elliott so she had to name him after him. But she said if she gets another yellow one she'll name it after you."

They finally got the space ship put together.

Lily appeared in the doorway after a time. Vince could sense her watching them before he turned to look at her.

"Sweetie, you've got to get ready for bed and Mommy has to talk to Vince, okay?"

Nick got up and went to his dresser where he pulled out his pajamas and then he hurried off to the bathroom.

Lily went over the final details with Vince and after saying Goodbye to Nick; she followed him outside to the driveway where a Maserati was parked. "Is that yours?"

"My baby."

They stood looking at the car for a long time.

"I'll see you in a few weeks."

She nodded and watched him drive off. Her heart was heavy with confusion as she walked up the steps to the house. It was going to be a long summer.

Vince spent Friday in the Studio with the guys. Zack was angry that most of the tracks on the Greatest Hits album were with Tommy, even though he had been with the band for five years. Anytime they had a chance to use a recording with Tommy in it they were.

"I just don't think it's fair. I'm as big a part of this band as he was." As soon as the words were out of his mouth Vince could see he regretted them. "I just mean, you know I've been with you guys for five years."

Roger was smoking a cigarette standing by the window. Vince could see he was agitated by the conversation; he wouldn't look at any of them. "You're such an ego-centric prick, Taylor," he said without turning around. "It's a Greatest Hits album. We're putting number one hits on it. It doesn't matter who played drums."

Zack fumed. "You guys think he was a better drummer than me. Roger, if someone else was playing guitar, I bet you'd have something to say about it."

Roger looked at Vince over his shoulder and rolled his eyes. "I told you we should have gotten a guy our own age. He's too young, he's still hungry."

Vince looked down at the floor, feeling as though the responsibility of a decision was squarely on his shoulders. "Tommy started the band with us, Zack, I think we owe it to him to keep all the tracks we have him on in the album. Zack, you're a part of this band too-" He stopped because he wanted to say more, but couldn't think of a diplomatic way of saying it.

"But not as big a part as he was." Zack threw his drumsticks across the room and they hit the padded wall. "I get it."

"Guys," Brian started.

"Shut up, Brian," Roger said his voice low with agitation. "We don't need you telling us to get along, _mom_."

Brian closed his mouth and sat back down on the couch.

Vince licked his lips. "Zack, you're twenty-six. You are going to have a whole career after this. Tommy spent his whole life with this band."

"Because he got drunk and drove off a cliff! If he wasn't so stupid he'd be here today and you guys won't need to bother with a sub-standard drummer!" He kicked in the head of his bass drum and stormed out of the studio.

They sat in silence for a long time.

"This is going to be a lot harder than we thought," Vince said.

"Maybe we should just re-record a few tracks. Zack is our drummer now. We could make it even." Brian was looking sheepishly from Roger to Vince.

"No!" Roger answered venomously. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Brian, we're three weeks behind schedule!" Vince pointed out, trying to ease the tension. "We can't re-record anything."

Brian bit his lip like he usually did when he wanted to say something, but didn't want to upset anyone. Suddenly his face darkened and the words erupted from his lips that had probably been there for fifteen years. "You know, I'm sick of this, you two have always had your noses stuck so far up Tommy's ass! The three of you always thought you were so awesome, so cool! Rock stars, living it up! Well you know what? Zack had a point, Tommy made a big mistake and it could have cost us our entire career, Zack bailed us out. So who's the ego-centric prick, Roger?" Brian's eyes flashed as he followed Zack out of the studio, slamming the door shut.

Roger hadn't moved, but now he pushed off the windowsill. He shook his head. "You know what's ironic? The only time we have any major problems in this band it's about breaking up."

"I can't believe this," Vince said. "I can't believe Brian's siding with Zack."

"C'mon Vince. You knew he always had a problem with us. He never felt like he fit in." Roger lit another cigarette and sat on an amp.

"I just thought that was how he was. I guess you got to give the guy points for finally standing up for him self."

"I think he could have picked a little better timing. How'd it go with Nick yesterday?"

Vince felt the last traces of anger evaporate at the mention of his son's name. "He's so great, Rog. He's really smart, funny and, he looks just like me."

Roger smiled. "I can't believe that's why she left."

"I always thought she was just sick of us, she wanted to go college, get her life together. I realized later not everyone had the same blind faith in ourselves that we did."

"We knew we would make it."

Vince was quiet. "I get so pissed at her when I think about her keeping that baby from me. But then I look at everything we have and I wonder if we'd have it if she hadn't left."

"I don't think you'd care, mate. You were different then. Less jaded. You were twenty-two and in love. There aren't too many things that can compare to that." Roger spoke softly. The words were uncommon for him and Vince let them sink in, struck by their kindness and simplicity.

"I guess we should go talk to the Diva's." Roger got up and ground out his cigarette in an ashtray.

Vince followed him out the studio door. He tried to remember back ten years ago, how he was then. But he couldn't, there was too much time covering it, to many memories, too much pain. He could see a picture of himself in his mind, he and Tommy, seventeen, grinning at the camera, Roger in the background with his hand up a girls shirt. He could see the smoothness of his skin, the twinkle in his eyes, the possibilities stretching out in front of him like an empty desert road.

Zack and Brian were sitting on a bench in the hallway, Brian was fidgeting in his seat and Zack was smoking furiously despite the NO SMOKING sign displayed above his head.

Roger stood with his arms across his chest and looked at Vince. "I think they need the song."

"The song?" Vince said with exaggerated annoyance. "I don't think they need the song."

"They're not feeling the love."

Brian glared at the two of them. "You know you aren't going to fix this by singing that stupid song."

"Oh they need the song, Vince. They don't know how much we need them."

Vince struggled to keep a straight face as he started singing the beginning of the Mariah Carey song, _Without You_.

Roger joined in as they started building to the chorus. " _Can't livvvvvvvvvvveeeeeeeeee! If living is without you! I can't give, I can't give anymore!!!!!_ "

Brian cracked first, his face broke into a smile and then he burst into laughter. Zack was harder, but finally gave in and waved his hands over his head. "Enough!" He yelled. "I can't take anymore!"

As walked back to the studio, Roger glanced over his shoulder at Vince and grinned. "God, I love my job."
Chapter 4

On Wednesday Lily called her mother to explain she wouldn't need her to watch Nick over the summer as she usually did.

"Well, who's going to watch him?" Eleanor had asked with a haughtiness she usually reserved for the hired help.

"Vince."

There was silence on the other line.

"Vincent Maddox?" Her mother's voice was low and steely.

"Yes, mother."

"And how did _that_ happen?"

"I ran into him, mom, he saw Nick and he knew. He wants to get to know him."

"Take him to court, he can't just swoop in a take your child from you!" Her mother's voice was raising and Lily dropped her head into her hands.

"Mom, I didn't make him by myself-"

"Shh! Don't you talk like that. Exactly who does he think he is?"

"Mom!" Lily yelled into the phone. "Listen, he's just babysitting for the summer. We aren't going to tell Nick who he is."

"Oh! So you think Nick is stupid? The poor child looks just like his father! I don't believe this! _We_ , like you two are back together after all he put you through!"

"Mom! He didn't put me through anything," Lily said agitation apparent in her voice. There was silence on the other end of the phone. She could hear her mother thinking.

"You two aren't, you know, back together again?"

"No mom."

"And you don't have an idea's about that? You know just because someone has a lot of money doesn't mean they have any class or social breeding. The last time I saw Vincent he had long hair! And he was wearing eyeliner! Like a girl! Is that the kind of man you want to be with? One that uses up all your hair spray?" She rambled on until Lily wanted to gouge her eyes out with a pencil. She got off the phone wondering how anything could be worse than letting her mother take care of Nick.

The next few weeks seemed to fly by. She had told Nick that Vince was an old friend who was looking for a quiet place to spend the summer and Lily thought it would be nice for Nick to have a man around. But she could have told him he was a space alien studying human life for all he cared; Nick could barely hide his excitement.

Lily couldn't sleep on the Sunday night before Vince arrived. He had called on Saturday to say that he had a few things he needed to do before he arrived and that he would be there Monday morning before she left for work.

Her dreams were a jumble of memories, sensations. She woke at three-thirty and padded downstairs in her slippers. She made a cup of tea and then found herself in the living room where she kept photo albums. She flipped through baby pictures of Nick; she had removed all the pictures of Vince. Her mind wandered and soon she was flipping through pages but not seeing the pictures. She closed the album and put it back on the shelf. She walked back upstairs as if in a dream and dragged a chair to her closet. At the back of her closet on the highest shelf were two overstuffed books, first a photo album and second a scrapbook filled with newspaper and magazine clippings. She pulled out the photo album and sat on the edge of her bed, flipping through years of her life. She marveled at how young she looked, how soft her face was, her hair was long and parted in the center. It had been a long time since she had looked at the pictures and she was struck by how Vince had changed. She had forgotten the wild, raw passion he had in his eyes, the mischievous sparkle. He looked so young, so slender. She found a picture of the four of them in LA that she had taken. They had found a manager and the first thing they had demanded were leather pants, they were standing in a row, their arms thrown over each other's shoulders, naked from the waist up in their low slung leather pants. Tommy had his head turned to Roger who was giving Brian devil horns behind his head. There were other pictures, Tommy after he had gotten his first tattoo with a big gauze pad around his arm, he was making a pained face and she remembered how much he had complained. Vince after he hadn't washed his hair for three weeks and she had finally sat him down to untangle it. Vince writing at the kitchen table or conferring with Roger, Brian and Lily in the kitchen. Their manager, Frank, who couldn't have been two years older than they were. A string of girls with Roger in various pictures. A picture Tommy and Vince had taken of Brian on the toilet.

Lily found herself laughing at the memories, but her eyes were damp with tears. She had pushed these memories so far back she had forgotten how much she had loved all of the guys, how much she had loved the life they had built. She reached the end of the book and stared at the blank white page. That was how it had ended for her, abruptly, blankly. She let her fingers trail across the slick plastic of the page.

Monday morning was hectic. Lily hadn't been able to fall asleep for the rest of the night and Nick was so excited that he had woken up at six and had been running around the house filled with energy for the next two hours. Lily was trying to get ready but Nick kept running into the bathroom and pulling on her shirt asking what time it was. She had fixed him breakfast but he was too excited to eat and she had finally thrown it out. It was almost quarter after eight and Lily was starting to get upset when Vince pulled into the driveway looking like he was still half-asleep. He stumbled into the house, his hair was all over and he hadn't shaved.

"'Morning," Lily said. Nick was hiding behind her.

Vince mumbled something, it was obviously too early for him to talk.

"Hi, Vince," Nick said, holding on to Lily's shirt.

"There's coffee in the kitchen," Lily said. She let out a sigh and herded Vince and Nick into the kitchen. She got out a mug and poured Vince a cup of coffee, and got out the cream. She automatically stirred in the amount of sugar and cream he used to take and set the cup in front of him. "What are you guys going to do today?"

"Mrs. Garner wants to get Vince's autograph." Nick wrapped his arms around Lily's leg, shooting Vince a look.

"I know he looks like a bear right now, but he just needs a little coffee. I don't think he's used to getting up this early," she whispered to Nick. Nick smiled and buried his face in her stomach. "Maybe you can show Vince how well you can read. Why don't you go upstairs and get a book you can read to him." She let Nick go and he ran upstairs.

"Not used to getting up so early?" She asked.

He was drinking his coffee and he made another sound that was more like a grunt than an answer.

"I've got to get to work; I'm already going to be late." She glanced at her watch. "Are you going to be okay?"

Vince managed to nod and Nick flew into the kitchen, skidding on the tiled floor in his socks. He was holding his favorite children's book. He walked up to Vince like he was a sleeping tiger. "You want to go into the living room and I'll read you a story?"

Vince got up, refilled his coffee cup and let Nick lead him into the Living room by his hand. Lily gathered her purse and briefcase and snuck out the side door into the garage.

By ten o'clock Vince was awake. He couldn't remember ever having to get up so early in his whole life. He should have just stayed up all night. He had rolled out of bed at quarter of six, pulled on shorts and a T-shirt and got in the car. It was a two-hour drive from the city to Hartford.

Nick had read to him for an hour and then they had cooked breakfast together. Over their eggs Vince asked Nick what he wanted to do that day.

Nick shrugged. "What do you want to do?"

"You know how to play basketball?"

Nick shook his head.

"Baseball? Football? Catch?"

Nick shook his head at each sport.

"Okay, first stop, we have to go to a sporting goods store and get some stuff." Vince studied him. "You've never played catch?"

"No. Grandma said I'd get hit in the head with the ball."

"What about with your friends?"

Nick shrugged. "One time I played catch with Richie, but mom said he was throwing the ball too hard so she wouldn't let me play anymore."

"Okay, so then we'll play ball today. Some kind of ball." Vince rolled his eyes.

They went to a sporting goods store and a toy store. Vince wore sunglasses and a baseball hat and prayed that no one would recognize him. He didn't want Nick showing up in a tabloid, he could just picture the fit Lily would throw. They bought a football, a baseball and two mitts, and a bad mitten set. They loaded everything into the car, which Nick thought was the coolest thing he had ever seen, and headed home. By the time they pulled in to the driveway it was close to two-thirty. There was a woman watering her garden next door to Lily's house, with a boy about Nick's age.

Nick climbed out of the car. "Joey! Come look at Vince's car! It's like a space ship!" The boy ran across the yard and the two of them started talking about the car. Vince climbed out just as the woman was starting over. She was pretty, blond, and wore a bathing suit with jean cut-offs.

"Vince Maddox," she said with a grin. "I am such a big fan."

"If you were such a big fan why don't you have a cat named after me?" Vince asked, putting on his best pout face.

She laughed. "So Nick told you. I promise the next pet I get will be named Vince. I'm Jen Garner, by the way." She held out her hand and Vince shook it.

"It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Joey and I are having fried chicken for lunch, would you and Nick care to join us?"

"Can we eat by the pool? Please mom!" Joey cried, hearing them talking.

Jen smiled at Vince. "Over the summer Lily let's us use the pool, it's become sort of traditional."

"Of course, feel free."

"And you'll join us?"

"Nick, you want fried chicken or something I made for lunch?"

"Chicken!" Nick yelled. The boys were hunched down by the tires of the Maserati.

"And I even went to cooking school."

Jen grinned. "Well, I'll run over and get the food. And, I hate to ask you this, but could you sign one of my albums?"

"I'd love to."

They ate lunch by the pool. Jen had made fried chicken, potato salad, fresh lemonade and chocolate chip cookies. Vince set up the bad mitten set and showed the boys how to play. Neither of them could hit the birdie, but they were having fun serving, chasing it down, and then serving it all over again. Vince signed Jen's album, which was an original from 1985. They settled into chairs by the pool, watching the boys play and making idle chitchat.

"You know, he looks just like you," Jen finally said.

Vince had been waiting for her to bring it up. "Yeah, he does."

"I've lived next door to Lily since she moved in, God; it's got to be almost five years ago. And I never saw it until Nick said he had met you."

"I didn't even know until about a month ago." The words had escaped his mouth before he had thought through how wise it was to tell her.

"Really?" She sat foreword.

"I probably never would have known. I just happened to bump into Lily when they were on that class trip in New York. I saw him and I knew."

"You must have met her really early in your career. Nick was born in what, '85?"

"I met Lily in '82."

"She never said anything to me. I just assumed, you know." She laughed uncomfortably.

"We were together for three years. Then one night she disappeared. I never heard from her again."

" _Lily White_ ," she said softly.

Vince let out a laugh and rolled his eyes. "Yeah, God I was twenty-two."

"Are you crazy? I love that song! I used to listen to that song over and over again. I wished somebody had written it for me."

"If you name a cat after me I'll chance it to Jenny White for the tour."

She laughed and said that Joe Elliott had officially been re-named Vince Maddox. They shifted the conversation to music and soon it was getting dark. Vince heard Lily pull into the driveway. She got out of the car slowly and walked around the house to the backyard.

"You guys look like your having a good time," her voice was sincere but Vince caught a glimmer of sarcasm in her eye.

"I can't believe I'm sitting next to Vince Maddox! I have been such a huge 'slinger fan since their first album." Jen turned in her lawn chair so she could look at Lily. "You were totally holding out on me!"

Lily shot Vince a dark look and stormed into the kitchen.

Jen made a face. "I'm sorry; I probably shouldn't have said that."

Vince waved her off. "Don't worry about it, she's a big girl."

"I should probably be heading home anyway." Jen called Joey over and the two of them walked back to their yard with the dishes from lunch. Nick followed Vince inside and ran up to his room.

Lily was in the kitchen ferociously scrubbing a carrot in the sink.

"What did I do?" he asked mournfully.

She stopped scrubbing and looked at him.

"What?"

"You just always have to be in the spotlight, don't you?"

"What?" Vince asked incredulously.

"That goddamn car, you sitting in the backyard. It's like your trying as hard as you can to get noticed. Do you know how humiliating it is-" her voice had raised, and she glanced up at the ceiling where Nick's room was and then continued in a whisper. "Do you know how I feel when people see the two of you together? Like a fool! Like some cheap groupie who's trying to bleed you for money ten years later."

"Lily, you were the one who kept him from me. I didn't want it to be this way."

She went back to scrubbing the carrot. She felt tears streaming down her face and she turned the water off and buried her face in a dishtowel.

Vince felt an overwhelming need to comfort her, but from the set of her shoulders he knew she would push him away. She looked so vulnerable, so frail.

"It's been too long," she said, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "He's had, we've had this whole life and you are destroying it. Everyone around me is looking at me in differently. Everyone in the office is talking. Brian came and had lunch with me and then you showed up last week. I don't know what to say to them."

"It's not my problem Lily," he said softly, hating the words as they left his tongue.

She nodded and blinked back the tears, trying to calm herself. "I know. Forget it."

He pushed off the counter. "I guess I'll head out. I got some stuff to do tonight."

Lily heard him mount the stairs and talk to Nick for a few minutes. She heard the door shut behind him and the grumble of the Maserati as it pulled out of the driveway. She leaned against the counter and cried.

The rest of the week was uneventful. Vince arrived at eight and left at six, talking as little to Lily as he could. He and Nick practiced bad-mitten and throwing the baseball around although Nick displayed none of the athleticism that Vince had at his age, he seemed to enjoy playing. On Friday Lily came home from work early with a headache, and went straight upstairs to take a bath. Vince had made a simple dinner and sent Nick upstairs with a plate of food and a mug of tea. They played monopoly and at nine Nick went upstairs to get ready for bed. After putting Nick to bed, Vince knocked gently on Lily's door as he was getting ready to leave and the door swung open.

She was sitting on the floor with a scrapbook laid out in front of her. She wore a soft terry cloth bathrobe that was gaping at the neck and her hair was damp and twisted into a knot on top of her head. She looked up quickly, her big eyes like a doe.

"Sorry," he muttered. He knew he should close the door but something had frozen him. She looked so young and fragile, so much like the Lily he remembered. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

She closed the book and slid it under the bed. "I'm fine." She demurely tucked her legs beneath her and closed the top of her bathrobe with her hand.

"What was that?" He asked softly, already knowing the answer.

"It's nothing." She stood and gathered the mug and plate Nick had brought her.

"Can I see?"

She looked like she wanted to say something scathing, but instead she nodded and put the dishes on the dresser. She pulled the book out and he walked into the room, sitting beside her on the floor. She smelled like lilacs and shampoo, clean and sweet. She tucked a few stray hairs behind her ear and flipped open the book. It was articles from November of 1984, just after she had left. At first they were just mentions and press releases, but as she turned the pages he watched the papers become more recognizable, interviews, photo shoots. He turned through five years of his life and then he came to the front page of the New York Post from August 7th, 1990. The bold headline read: **'** Slinger Drummer Dies in Fiery Crash.

He closed the book before he read any further. She had been watching him.

"I started saving them for Nick. I thought someday he might like to see them."

He looked over at her, his eyes gentle. "What happened to us, Lil?" His heart hurt.

She didn't speak, just picked up the book and pushed it back to the top shelf of her closet. "I don't know Vince. Life I guess."

"You used to talk to me," he said.

She blinked away the tears in her eyes. "You aren't the same anymore. I thought you were, but you're not."

"I don't understand why you're so mad at me."

"It doesn't matter-" she started towards the door, but Vince reached up and grabbed her arm. His fingers felt electric against her skin, sending currents through her. She glanced back at him, her eyes glazed and frightened.

He was on the floor, kneeling, he pulled her closer to him, and she dropped to her knees. She felt a magnetic pull, a field of energy drawing her in. His eyes were like twin lasers, bright; piercing and yet at the same time deep and calm, rippling outward like the concentric circles in a pool of water. She was next to him, suddenly; she could feel his body, the heat, the strength. His hand encircled her wrist, gently but firmly. His hair was shaggy, mussed and before she knew it her fingers were brushing it aside, tangling in it. He kept one hand on her wrist, but the other hand curled around her waist, drawing her closer, pulling her towards him.

"We shouldn't," she mumbled.

His lips brushed against her neck just below her ear, sending shivers down her spine and a pool of heat in her belly. "Shh," he whispered against her neck. He reached for the belt of her bathrobe, letting his hand brush against the tender flesh of her breast.

She drew in a short breath. "Stop."

Vince drew back and looked up at her without letting go of her wrist.

"We can't do this."

"Why?"

She tugged her hand away and got up. She walked to the window of her bedroom and stood looking out on the backyard with her back to him. "Vince, we've built different lives. They can't co-exist."

"You're assuming a lot."

She looked down at her hands. They suddenly looked old, like her mother's hands. His words stung more than she wanted to admit. She didn't know what to say to him, how to show him that she was different now, that he was different. That she couldn't lay herself out like that for him. She was too raw, too vulnerable.

He watched her. Her shoulders hung and her head was bent. A well of sorrow bubbled up in his soul. He didn't know her anymore and she didn't want him to know her. He didn't regret his words.

He got to his feet and brushed off his pants. "I'm sorry." By the tone of his voice she knew he wasn't, but she didn't turn.

He left silently, but she heard the car start and the tires screech as he pulled out of the driveway. She felt foolish, weak. He had touched her and she had crumbled, all the resilience she had thought she had collapsed under the softest brush of his lips, the tips of his fingers, leaving her trembling and aching for him. Her eyelids felt heavy and swollen. Her stomach was dancing with butterflies and a heavy sense of dread.

She climbed into bed knowing she wouldn't be able to sleep. She wrapped her arms around a pillow and buried her face in the soft down. Sleep came finally and fleetingly, leaving her mind awash in memories and the sheets damp with sweat.

Chapter 4

Vince stormed out of the house. He had bit his tongue, but he floored the gas as he pulled out of the driveway, the tires screamed and spewed smoke and burned rubber. He drove on automatic, not seeing the streets fly by him or the interstate. He felt foolish, the sting of rejection. She had left him ten years before and now she pushed him away. She had kept his child from him for ten years. He couldn't forgive her. She wasn't going to hurt him the way she had before; he was too strong to let that happen. He wanted her to feel what he had felt ten years before. And if he had his way, she would be the one with the broken heart.

On Saturday Vince met the guys at the studio where they had a meeting with a producer and got into yet another argument with Zack and Brian about the formatting of the inserts in the album. Roger was losing patients and stormed out of the studio cussing and swearing. The whole album was a disaster. Vince had too much on his mind already and he could feel his fuse growing shorter each time a problem arose. The album was already supposed to be finished but all this squabbling was holding up production. Roger suggested they split Brian and Zack up and try to work out the problems. They both knew Brian was a push over, and he would be easy to sway as soon as he was out of Zack's clutch. Vince offered to take Zack and he met him for dinner at a trendy New York restaurant.

"Hey dude," Zack said, sliding into the seat across from him and looking sullen. He wore a knit cap pulled low over his brow and a flannel shirt.

Vince smiled at him. Zack had a tangle of light blond hair that stuck out from under his hat and he looked all of seventeen. When Tommy had died they discussed breaking up, but all decided that Tommy would want them to stay together. What had followed, Vince remembered as being the worst few months of his life. They had auditioned countless drummers, one after the other, waiting for someone to light up the drum set like Tommy had. They were reaching the end of their patience when a twenty-one year old kid had talked his way into the audition. He had played studio drums on a few well-known artists' tracks, but the three of them had looked at him with more than a little reluctance. He sat down, tossed his drumsticks in the air, caught them and started beating the skins like he was punishing them. He had presence, charisma, and he could play. He didn't know the drum track to a single Gunslinger song, but after a few months he had down the big hits and they started writing again. Their new album, Tribute, came out a year and a half after Tommy died, and the pain they had experienced was immortalized in those songs, backed by the punishing beat of Zack's drumsticks.

"How's it goin' with your ex-girlfriend?" Zack asked, more out of avoiding the true subject at hand than any real interest.

Vince smiled. "Not so good man."

"She doesn't like you anymore? 'Cause you can give her my number if you want."

"Hey," Vince warned.

"You got it bad, huh?"

"I don't have it bad, I just don't like getting-" he let the words trail off.

"Oh man, you! Rejected! No, that's not the Vince I know. You got to get her, hook her in and give her a little taste of her own medicine."

Vince snorted.

"Man, everything I learned about women I learned from you. When I met you, I could count the girls I slept with on one hand. Now, I don't think I have enough hairs on my head to count 'em all."

"I'm glad I was such a positive influence in your life," Vince said dryly, seriously re-thinking Lily's points on his child rearing potential. "Anyway, let's get back to business."

Zack slumped further down in his seat and ordered double bourbon and a beer.

Monday morning Lily was searching for the ad campaign she had been working on over the weekend. She found pages of it trailing across the house with crayon drawings all over the backs. She was tearing her hair out when she heard a car pull into the driveway. It didn't sound like the Maserati and she went to the window to look out. Vince was getting out of a shiny new black BMW sedan. She watched as he popped open the trunk and pulled out two suitcases and then started toward the house.

"What are you doing?" She asked as he walked in the door.

"We're done in the studio. I'm moving in."

"You're staying!" Nick yelled from the hallway, he flew downstairs in his pajamas and leapt into Vince's arms.

"Hey Buddy!" He tickled Nick who squealed with delight. "You want to show me to the guest room?"

"Vince," Lily said under her breath.

"You offered."

"I meant it as a formality," she said with restraint, her pulse quickening at the thought of his kisses on Friday night. She couldn't do this; she couldn't bear having him so close. Her fists balled and she glared at him.

"Mom!" Nick wined.

She looked down at Nick and let out a deep sigh, rolling his eyes. "We'll talk about it when I get home. I'm going to be late for work." She walked a little towards the door and then turned back. "Nice car." She said to him.

"I thought it was a little less conspicuous," he said with enough exaggeration to make it clear it was sarcastic.

"Thanks," she said with a fake smile.

When she got home Vince and Nick were on the back deck with an electric guitar. Vince caught sight of her and played the opening riff of the Joe Walsh song _Life's been Good_.

" _My Maserati does 185, I lost my license and now I don't drive,"_ he sang. _"It's tough to handle this fortune and fame; everybody's so different, I haven't changed."_ He directed the lines at Lily and she glared at him from the porch steps.

"Hey mom, Vince said he's gonna teach me to play the guitar. And he says we are gonna start learning some _real_ music." Nick was sitting on a chair watching as Vince played little riffs from various songs.

"We'll talk about it."

Nick's face darkened. "He can stay, right. You said he can."

"Were you there, young man?" Lily asked. "Did you hear me say he could stay?"

Nick narrowed his eyes at her and climbed into Vince's lap, looping his arm around his father's neck. "I know you said it."

She let out a deep breath. "Are you guy's hungry? What do you want for dinner?" She shot Vince a vicious glance over Nick's head as she walked past them towards the door.

"Dinner's made," Vince said calmly, fingering the fret board of the guitar while Nick strummed the cords.

"What?"

"Me and Vince made dinner. Lasagna."

"Oh, really," Lily said, leaning against the glass door with her arms crossed.

"With garlic bread and salad."

She sniffed the air and detected the scent of garlic and tomato sauce.

"Vince said he felt bad because you ruined it last time you made it."

She stormed into the kitchen and slammed the sliding door behind her, furious. She couldn't stand him. He was the most irritating man that she had ever met. His very presence made her skin crawl. Her eyes settled on the table and she felt a wave of irrational anger wash over her.

It had been set for three, and there was a salad in the refrigerator and lasagna in the oven nestled next to a torpedo shaped object wrapped in foil.

"It should be done in a few minutes. Hungry?" Vince asked from the doorway.

"You bastard," She muttered under her breath.

He shot her a saccharine sweet smile.

She wanted to throw a plate at him, but Nick came in from the porch.

"I helped Vince make dinner. Are you gonna have some mom?"

"Of course, sweetie," she said, ruffling a hand through his hair.

They ate dinner quietly. The tension in the air was electric and everyone could sense it. The dinner was delicious, as much as Lily hated to admit it. She complemented them both and then said that she would do the dinner dishes because they had cooked.

"Mom, me and Vince will do them."

She shot her son a perplexed look. "You, doing dishes?"

"You work real hard and since Vince and me don't have real jobs we should do more to help you out."

"Killing me with kindness," she had muttered when Vince passed her. He just smiled.

She spent the rest of the evening reading a book in the study. She heard Vince and Nick having a good time cleaning up and laughing and she felt left out, alone. She felt childish, sitting in the study alone, wishing that someone would remember her, come and check on her. Her son, her whole life for ten years, had apparently forgotten that she exsisted.

At nine Vince put Nick to bed and she heard him walking around upstairs in the guestroom. She set her book down and walked upstairs, not sure of what she wanted to say; just knowing she had to make it clear how very much she didn't want him here. _Because you don't trust yourself_ , a tiny voice in her head whispered. She ignored it and forced herself down the hallway.

His door was open, but she knocked lightly. "What are you doing?" She asked him.

He glanced up at her. "Folding a shirt."

She pinched the bridge of her nose and leaned against the doorframe. "Why are you doing this?" she motioned at the bedroom and the suitcase.

"I'm sick of getting up at five-thirty." He tucked the stack of shirts into the top drawer of the dresser. "Don't worry; you won't even know I'm here."

"I don't think this is a good idea."

"You were the one to suggest it." He sat down on the edge of the bed. "Besides, I'll keep my hands to myself. That's what your afraid of isn't it?"

She didn't want to admit the tiny swell of disappointment that bubbled up in her heart. "No, that's not what I'm afraid of," she snapped. "I just don't think it's a good idea."

He stood up and walked towards her. She wanted to back away, to turn and run down the hallway for her life. But she couldn't move, she was frozen. All she could think of was his hands touching her somewhere, brushing against her skin. She remembered how his touch had intoxicated her the other night, his gentle lips on her neck. He was a drug she knew was dangerous, but she wanted to flirt, experiment. She wanted the rush. His eyes were ragged, hungry. He looked to damn good to be standing in front of her in her guest bedroom; he belonged on a poster on some teenage girl's wall. His lip curled.

"There are a lot of things that aren't a good idea. I don't usually pay to much attention to them." He brushed back her hair and drew his fingertips across her cheekbone, down to her lips where he outlined them, sending jolts of electricity through her. Her heart was beating a million times a second and she suddenly felt like she couldn't breath, her breasts felt raw and sensitive and bare as she struggled to gasp for air. Each time they rose she felt torn between wishing he would reach out and brush against them and wanting to step away, to run away. She just wanted him, wanted him so badly she could almost taste him; she could almost remember the slickness of his tongue, the feel of his smooth chest. She wanted him to kiss her. Heat pooled in the bottom of her stomach and she could feel her blood coursing through her veins, rhythmic, pulsing. She shuddered.

"Scared?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper. His mouth was twisted between a smile and a sneer, his eyes holding hers, boring into her with such intensity it burned her right down to her bones.

"You don't scare me," her voice cracked.

"I should." He dropped his hand and turned.

"Vince," she gasped before she realized the words had come from her lips. He didn't turn and look at her, but his eyes met hers in the mirror above the dresser and he held her gaze.

"If you want me to keep my hands to myself I'd advise you to steer clear."

"Is that a threat?" She tried to even out her breathing, to regain her composure, on the outside at least.

He shook his head and turned to glance at her over his shoulder and grinned that famous devil-may-care grin that made her knees weak. "Nope, it's a warning."

On Saturday morning Lily woke up to the Rolling Stone's blaring from the kitchen. She rolled out of bed, groggy, and glanced at the clock by her bed. Generally she didn't sleep so late but it seemed like she had lay awake until nearly dawn, staring at the ceiling, her fists balled in her sheets, a mixture of frustration and anger keeping her up. She took a shower and brushed her teeth, threw on shorts and a T-shirt and headed downstairs.

Vince and Nick were making pancakes and singing along to the CD that played from a set on the counter. She settled into a chair at the table and Vince poured her a cup of coffee. She murmured thanks and gratefully sipped the hot brew. "What are you guys doing today?"

Nick was swiveling his hips like Elvis and Vince stopped what he was doing and looked at him. "What in God's name are you doing?"

"It's how mom dances."

Vince started laughing.

"I do not," she shot from the table.

"Yes, you do."

"Vince, tell him I don't dance like that."

Vince was still laughing. "I'm pleading the fifth."

"I know how to dance," Lily retorted.

"Do boys dance like this?" Nick asked Vince, snaking his shoulders and shimmying up and down.

"Only Axl Rose, but I think you're still a little young for him."

Lily shook her head from the table, glancing over the headlines from yesterday's paper.

"I'm teaching Nick how to play football today," Vince announced, settling a plate stacked with pancakes on the table. Nick brought the butter and the syrup.

Lily paled. "Don't you think he'll get hurt?"

"If I run full speed at him and tackle him, yeah, probably." He served her three pancakes and then heaped Nick's plate. "But I thought maybe until he's closer to my size we would only throw the ball around."

"He could get hit in the head."

"A lot of things can happen. But I'll aim for his stomach if it makes you feel better."

Lily opened her mouth, and then closed it.

"I'm gonna be like Don Marino."

"Dan," Vince corrected, giving Lily a smile.

"Yeah, Dan Marino. A cornerback."

"Quarterback," Vince said, shoveling a forkful of pancake into his mouth. "There's a difference."

Lily brought the coffee cup up to her lips to hide her smile. "Well it sounds like you guys are going to have a good time. I think I'm going to garden a little."

Vince and Nick set up a line of scrimmage and then Vince passed the ball to Nick and ran out into the yard. Nick pulled back with the ball in his hand and threw it with every ounce of strength he had. The ball turned end over end and dropped four feet from Nick's feet. Vince stopped and looked from Nick to the ball.

He let out a breath. "Dear God, what has your mother done to you?"

Lily glared at him from over her shoulder from where she was pulling weeds.

They spent the next few hours trying to perfect a spiral that wasn't end over end, to no avail. After lunch Nick ran over to show Joey's and Jen had just finished a batch of cookies, so Nick stayed. Vince followed Lily inside.

"You weakened my gene pool, look at him; he can't throw a ball to save his life."

"You know he's going to get hit in the head."

"Jesus Lily, so what. I got hit in the head plenty when I was little."

"And look how you turned out." She looked at him in that same disapproving way her mother did, haughty, snobby.

"God Lily, you're just like your mother."

She turned to look at him straight, her eyes cold. "One of us needs to be a parent."

"I'm a parent, Lily. I'm not over protective, and I'm not worrying about every little thing, because I know he's a smart kid and he'll be okay."

"You're not a parent, you're his friend. A thirty-two year old man who made a career out of never having to grow up." She spat the words at him.

"Maybe I should just start calling you Eleanor."

She flung her gloves onto the counter and stormed upstairs. She kicked her wall, swearing. She wasn't like her mother, she told herself, he just knew how to push her buttons, what to say to rile her up. Anyway, what did he know about growing up?

She stormed back downstairs, but the kitchen was empty. She spotted him swimming laps in the pool and flung the sliding door open and slammed it closed behind her. He kept swimming until she was at the edge of the pool.

"Vince!" she yelled. He stopped and glanced up as if he just noticed she was there.

"Hi Li-" he managed before she cut him off.

"Maybe I am like my mother, but I had to raise a child, by myself! I had to grow up pretty quickly and I had to be responsible and I had to learn how to take care of myself-" Before she could finish, he circled her ankles with his hands and with one swift tug, pulled her into the pool. She came up spitting water, but before she could react, suddenly his lips were on hers. He pinned her to the wall of the pool, the concrete biting into her back.

His lips were firm, soft, the way she remembered them. He kissed her hard, his lips burning against hers. He capture her bottom lip in his, sucking, tugging. His tongue prodded her lips, forcing them open, entering her softly, gently, drowning out all resistance. It was so familiar, her body remembered him perfectly, every touch was burned into her cells and every touch was met with the perfect reaction. She moved against him; letting him tilt her head back, deepen the kiss. His hands framed her face, clinging to her as if he was afraid she might disappear. It felt so right, so perfect, but the desire she had felt was now multiplying by the thousands, she had tasted him and now she couldn't get enough. Her legs wrapped around his waist and his hands reached under her to her bottom. Liquid fire pooled in her belly. Need and want and desire knotted together until it was an insatiable hunger that coursed through her like lava in her veins. She felt her hips tilt toward him, her legs clamp more firmly to his waist. In that moment nothing could permeate her desire, nothing could make her forget the searing brand of his lips, his body formed perfectly to hers.

And then as suddenly as it started he pushed off the wall and treaded water a few feet from her. He gave her a wicked grin. "Now, that's the Lily I remember."

Every ounce of desire in her turned to molten anger. She splashed water in his direction with her open hand and swam to the steps. She climbed out, aware of how hard her beaded nipples were beneath her soaking wet shirt. She could feel his eyes on her and she tried not to let him see her quivering, her body twisted between desire and fury.

"You might want to take those clothes off before you go inside. Don't want to get the house all wet." Vince called out to her, floating on his back.

She picked up a float and threw it at him. "I hate you."

"Hate is a very strong word." He was still wearing that smug grin and she hated to admit this round he had gotten her.

Gotten to her in a way she hadn't known he could, she thought as she pulled off her sodden clothing. No, she was lying to herself if she thought that. She had known from that first moment she had seen him she wanted him, she missed him. She missed the way he held her, the way he kissed her. She just thought she was stronger than that.

She bundled up her clothes and left them in the sink and wrapped herself in a towel from the downstairs bathroom. She headed upstairs to dry off and dress, her heart still beating against her ribs like a caged bird. She changed into a simple summer dress and stood by the window. Joey and Nick had figured out that Vince was in the pool and had rushed over to join him and she could hear their laughter spilling from the water.

She wondered if he ached for her the way she ached for him. But how could he if he so callously push her away in the middle of that kiss? She had to remember he was different now, he had been married to a supermodel for godssake, what did he need her for? Maybe he wanted a trip down memory lane; maybe he wanted a chance to reject her the way she had him. Whatever it was she knew it wouldn't last and she needed to be aware of that if she wanted to keep her heart intact at the end.

Vince could still feel her taste lingering on his lips, the way her body felt in his arms. It had taken every ounce of power he possessed to push her away. He wanted her. His body was crackling with energy, his muscles tensing with need. He had watched her storm into the house, wanting nothing more than to follow her, to tear off her wet clothes, to cover every inch of her skin with his hands, his mouth. He wanted to feel her hips tilt towards him, her legs tighten around him the way they had in the pool. It was too much for him, there were too many memories, too much history between them. He had traveled a million miles and seen a million things, touched a thousand other women, but one kiss brought it all back. One kiss brought back the torture of the memory of her body beneath his, the exquisite pain of her lips burning against his. It had never been like it was with Lily with anyone else. Not even his ex-wife. There was something between them, some chemistry that was an unquenchable thirst, a lounging that could never be filled.

He wanted this; he wanted to torture her, to make her remember what she had left behind, to make her want him the way he wanted her. But he didn't know if he could bare it, he didn't know how long he could hold onto the reins before he lost control of what he was feeling, before he lost control of himself.

Chapter 5

Eleanor Rayes called that evening and Lily answered the phone.

"How's everything going?" she whispered conspiratorially into the phone. Lily rolled her eyes and pulled the phone into the study and closed the door.

"Everything's fine, mom," Lily said, sitting on the floor with her back to the door.

"He isn't putting any sort of ideas into Nick's head, is he?"

"Like what mom?"

"Wearing make-up or acting like a fool."

Lily pinched the bridge of her nose with her fingers. "No mom, they've been playing ball and I think Vince is showing him how to play the guitar."

"Ball! Nick isn't the most coordinated child; I don't think playing ball is a good idea."

"He's doing fine."

She could hear her mother fidgeting on the other line and counted four seconds before she spoke again. Saying exactly what Lily thought she would.

"What if he gets hit? How do you think a bruise is going to look?"

"Like's he's a kid playing ball."

"I don't like any of this; I don't see why he couldn't stay with us this summer like he usually does. He never gets hurt when he's here."

"Mom, dad isn't exactly a hand's on kind of guy, and as much as I like that Nick knows which fork is used for what, I think it's a good idea he's spending some time with a man."

Her mother made a sound in the back of her throat. "Well, when you have to go drag him out of a crack house we'll see which influence was better."

Lily banged her head against the door.

"Anyway, the reason I called was you haven't bothered to invite your father and I to dinner yet. It's been quite some time since we've seen Nick and as distasteful as it is I think we ought to at least say hello to Vincent. He is our grandson's father."

"Fine, when do you want to come?"

"Well, if Friday is okay for you that would be fine. Unless you and Vincent, who you seem to be so valiantly defending, have some other plans?"

"No mother Friday is fine." Lily hung up the phone and shut her eyes. As much as her mother despised Vince, she had never held Nick's father against him. Her world revolved around her grandson. Eleanor Rayes was one of the most judgemental, opinionated people on the planet, but she had been there for Lily when she had come back from LA, pregnant and heartbroken, she had been there to watch Nick when Lily was in college, she was there every summer to watch Nick, to love him in her own strange way. Lily got up and went back to the kitchen where Vince was drying the dishes left from dinner.

"My mother is coming for dinner on Friday," she said, popping a left over baby carrot from the salad into her mouth.

"Oh joy," Vince said without turning.

"She thinks she should say hi to you."

"She wants to see me?" Vince turned off the faucet and dried his hands on a dishtowel. "You didn't orchestrate this to make my life more miserable?"

Lily made a face at him and hopped onto the counter top and ate another carrot. "I don't spend that much time thinking about you."

"Really?" He raked his eyes across her, reminding her of her reaction when he had kissed her.

"Really." She crossed her legs primly, self-conscious under his stare, afraid that the blush in her cheeks would be recognized for what it was, desire.

Vince turned around and turned the water back on. He splashed the sink and then emptied the drain into the garbage. "Well, it'll be nice to see the old bag. We can reminisce about the good old days."

"Vince, please don't be a jerk. I know how you feel about my mother, but she and Nick are close, please be respectful to her, for his sake."

"If she's civil to me, I'll be civil to her." He rooted around in a cabinet until he came up with a plastic container and a lid that fit. He stood beside her and dumped the rest of the salad into the container. She was too aware of his presence; her body was practically purring. She jumped off the counter and walked to the refrigerator where she got out a bottle of water.

She unscrewed the top. "Maybe you can try to be pleasant."

He shrugged. "I can try."

"Vince," she warned.

He shot her a devilish look; his smile was mischievous and as familiar as Nick's.

"You know Vince; I think I've been pretty accepting of all of this. The least you can do is be decentt to my parents," the words came out harsher than she had meant them and his smile disappeared.

"Why should I be nice to them, Lily? What the hell have they ever done to make me feel welcome? To be polite to me? From the first time they met me, I was defending myself, proving myself, and no matter what I did it wasn't enough." He shook his head. "You used to defend me, too."

She didn't bother to tell him she had just finished defending him on the phone with her mother. "Sometimes you have to bite the bullet and be the bigger man."

Vince snorted. "In your little perfect society with all of its rules and social obligations, maybe that works. But I'm not like that and I know your parents feel the same way about me than I do about them. And I'm not going to pretend to feel any different because it isn't polite to say what you really think."

"Damnit Vince, you aren't nineteen anymore. You are a grown man; you can't act like this. Being defiant and rebellious was cool back then, now you're just a jackass."

"And here I thought it was called honesty. But then I'm just a poor stupid kid from the wrong side of town, so what do I know?" His jaw was set and his eyes were blazing with anger.

"You just love to stand there and talk about how unfair life is, with your Maserati and your mansions, it worked when you lived in the projects, Vince. I'm not going to buy it now."

"You're such a spoiled brat. You've always been spoiled."

"I'm not spoiled. I've worked hard for what I have-"He cut her off before she could finish. "This house, you bought it with your own money, Lily? That fancy school Nick goes to, you pay for that? I'll bet you anything; your parents pay for it. All of it. All Lily has to do is dump that loser boyfriend and come back home to mommy and everything will be okay, right? They fixed you up great, new house, new car, new life, with a big stamp of approval from the country club ladies. You know what I did for my money? I worked, I poured myself into every song I wrote, I squeezed out every last ounce of energy for every show. I listened to bullshit critics; I listened to rejection after rejection. And yeah, I got lucky. We hit it big. And you know what now? It's even more work. What the hell did you do Lily?"

Her lungs felt like they were on fire, like the oxygen was burning up as she struggled to breathe it. She was angry, furious, but at the same time she wanted to cry for him. His words stung because it was the truth and she knew it. She felt a battle inside of her, the part of that had become like her mother standing behind what she had said, struggling to make herself believe in what she was saying. But there was another part of her that knew he spoke the truth, she was spoiled. She had spent her whole life getting everything she wanted, but the only time she had felt free was the three years she had been with him. Her mother always cared what everyone thought, what people would say. Vince didn't. He was who he was and it didn't matter if you liked it or not. She craved that, she needed that. She needed someone to give her the strength to be herself, and Vince had given her that.

"When you raise a child alone then we can talk about what I've done."

"Damnit I had no choice!" he yelled. He glanced up at the ceiling where Nick was sleeping and lowered his voice. "You made that decision Lily. You can't keep throwing that in my face."

"What choice did I have!" she cried. "You guys spent all your money on tattoo's and guitar strings and amplifiers! How could we have raised a child like that? What kind of father would you be?"

He had gotten too close; his body was nearly touching hers. His eyes hardened, as if he had realized at the same moment that she had the fire raging between them. Her fingers were curling, itching to brush back the loose hair that had fallen into his eyes; she wanted to touch him, to let her fingertips skim across his cheek, to outline the curve of his lower lip with her tongue.

"God, you're beautiful," he whispered.He kissed her, hungrily, his mouth devouring hers. His hands were hot and pulled her closer against him, molding her to him, pressing her body against his, pressing her into the edge of the counter. She melted into him, every trace of resistance she had built up turned to liquid lava and pooled like hot jelly in the bottom of her stomach. Her lips were against his, open, needy. Ten years of passion boiled to the surface and threatened to spill over, to engulf her and scald him. His lips trailed across her neck and to the tender shell of her ear, catching the lobe between his teeth. His hands roamed, tugging at her clothes, covering her breast, twisting the hard bead of her nipple through her dress. They traveled lower, pulling up the hem of her skirt and she felt his hands sliding up her thighs, his hands rough against her skin and she felt herself melting in anticipation of his touch, arching into his touch, into his hand. Every muscle in her body was short, tense with anticipation. Every pore of her body quivering, waiting, needing.

He touched her gently, softly with the tips of his fingers, brushing them across the damp silk of her panties. She moaned, shivering from the softest feather touch, wanting more, leaning into him, feverish with want. His lips traveled back to hers, claiming her. She clung to him with her mouth, her hands, crazy with passion. He tugged the scrap of silk down her leg with one hand until she could kick it off and then he was touching her with nothing between them. His fingers were like live wire's trailing sparks where they touched, sending jolts of pleasure through her body, he eased a finger inside of her, using his thumb to tease the tender bloom of her womanhood. Her body shivered, her legs seemed to give way and she slumped against him, her breath coming in sharp intakes. Reached beneath her, he lifted her onto the counter top, pushing her skirt up to her waist and exposing her, raw and vulnerable. Her hands were tugging at the button on the baggy khaki shorts he wore, struggling. His mouth trailed frantic kisses across her cheek, her throat, where he had loosened the buttons on her sundress to expose her breast. With one hand he reached down to help her with his fly, and she could see his erection straining against the fabric of his shorts. She wrapped her legs around his waist; her muscles ached with need, short with impatience. It had been so long since she had felt him, she forgot every excuse she had made to herself that she had to keep a cool head, she forgot every promise she was breaking, all she had was simple, carnal, primal need.

He entered her in one swift thrust, pulling her hips to meet his, skidding her bottom across the smooth countertop. She let out a moan, clinging to the fabric of his shirt, her mind was empty, she could only feel, it seemed so right, so sweet. He fit inside of her perfectly, as if they were molded to match. Their bodies seemed to be connected, one organism, they were in harmony, in tune. She could close her eyes and stop thinking, just feel. She let her fingers twist into his hair and he moved back to kiss her again. Their bodies moved at a frantic pace, desperate for release. And then Vince tightened his hold on her, her hands gripped his shirt harder, tugging the fabric as she threw her head back and wave after wave of orgasms hit her. Pleasure rippled through her muscles like the tides, ebbing and flowing to the deepest reaches of the ocean. When it was over, she collapsed against him, her head on his shoulder, sucking in shuddering breaths. His head rested against hers, their cheeks touching. And for the briefest moment she felt content, she felt as if everything would be all right if she could just stay there, in this frozen moment. Reality dawned slowly and horribly.

She pushed him away and climbed off the counter. The top buttons on her dress had been ripped off and she buttoned those that remained and held together the top half. She felt silly and wanton. She had given herself to him so freely, so desperately. She had told herself she would get hurt, that her heart would be broken, but each time he touched her, she was powerless to stop him. This would never be what it was ten years ago. It was silly to think they could bring that back. There was too much pain between them, too many old wounds. They were picking at scabs, scratching fresh blood, hurting each other more.

"Lily," he said her name softly, like a caress.

"That shouldn't have happened, Vince." She wouldn't turn to look at him.

"I told you to steer clear."

He stared at her back, every muscle in his body wanting to go to her, to fold her into his arms. But her back was ridged.

"It's hard when you're living in the same house." Her voice was empty, flat, defeated.

He hadn't wanted it to happen like this; it was too soon, to fast. He wanted to savor her, take his time. She looked so beautiful, her cheeks flushed pink, and her eyes glowed with an intensity he hadn't seen in a long time. But there were tears on her cheeks. "I didn't hurt you?" he asked, reaching out to touch her shoulder.

"No," she snapped, jerking out of his touch. _Not physically._

"Lily," he started. He wanted to say something, anything to relieve this awkwardness, the pain on her face.

"Just go upstairs, okay?" She wouldn't turn, wouldn't look at him.

She felt him go. Pain was radiating outward from her heart, a throbbing ache that pounded in time with her head. She felt empty; she wanted to go back, to erase what had happened, to turn back the clock. Tears had sprung into her eyes; hot and wet they spilled across her cheeks. She didn't want any of this; she wanted peace, wanted her life back the way it was.

Simple.

And lonely.

She felt weak and she walked to a chair. She needed to talk to someone, she needed comfort and advice and she realized there was no one she could talk to. Vince had been her best friend, and she could talk to him about anything. She realized how lonely she had been without him, how much she missed him. It wasn't an excuse, but it was still something she could cling to, something she could tell herself so she could sleep.

Lily woke up not remembering when she had fallen asleep. Her dreams were torrid and the sheets were damp with sweat and twisted around her feet. She didn't feel rested. The house was quiet as she padded down the stairs to the kitchen. She started a pot of coffee and fixed herself a piece of toast while she waited for the hot liquid to drip through the filter. She stood by the sliding door, her fingers wrapped around the mug of coffee, breathing in the scent of the freshly brewed roast. She didn't want to see Vince, she knew she was being juvenile, but there was a part of her that knew when he looked into her eyes he would see something besides regret. She opened the sliding door and stepped out onto the deck that was still wet with dew. The morning air was still crisp and cool, but there was an underlying weight that promised a hot, humid day. She curled into a wicker chair; sipping her coffee and watching the hummingbirds fly from one flower to the next.

"'Morning." His voice surprised her as he came out onto the porch. He carried a mug of coffee and looked like he had just rolled out of bed.

"Hi," was all she could manage. Her throat was closing and her heartbeat was gaining speed.

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry," he stared straight ahead into the yard. "About last night. It shouldn't have happened."

She nodded, part of her relived, another disappointed and she didn't know why.

They sat in silence for a long time, listening to the crickets and the birds. She caught herself staring at him, studying his profile. His eyes seemed darker, stormier. There were dark circles beneath them and he looked haggard as if he hadn't slept.

"You're up early," she finally said to break the silence.

He glanced down at his wrist before he realized he wasn't wearing a watch. "I gotta drive into the city today. We have another ' _meeting_ '," he said disdainfully.

"About what?"

"Oh, Zack, he's the new drummer, he thinks we have too many tracks on the album with Tommy and not enough of him."

"That's ridicules. Gunslinger is you and Roger and Brian and Tommy."

He shrugged. "I know. But technically Zack is our drummer."

"Well there are three against one, you guys win. What's the problem?"

"Not so easy, it's two against two. Brian's siding with Zack."

"What?" She suddenly realized what his life was, what she didn't see. He had just reappeared into her life, like a long forgotten toy that she dug up in a closet. But that wasn't what he was. He was a world famous musician. Since she had seen him he had made six albums and toured the world. He had produced records, he had fought with executives and even now, without her knowing, he was working on another album. "How can Brian side with what's his name?"

Vince grinned at her. "You know Brian; he always goes for the underdog. Anyway, he apparently has some deep seeded resentment towards the three of us."

"Brian?" She asked incredulously. "Brian is incapable of deep seeded resentment."

"That's what I thought, but I guess we were wrong."

"What did he say?"

"That we all thought we were so cool and he really wishes he was as cool as we are."

"He said that?"

"I may have paraphrased at little, but that was the general gist." He shot her a grin. He looked so sexy; his hair tussled, his eyes still shimmering with sleep. She turned and looked out at the yard. She had to develop some will power.

"So what are you going to do?"

"I don't know, we keep having these stupid meetings. Rog and I can pull rank, they are all our songs, but I don't want to do that to Brian. So we've have been trying to talk them both into it, but it doesn't seem to be doing anything. Our manager, Chris is going to be there today, so maybe that will help."

"Weren't you supposed to be done with the album a few weeks ago?"

"Yes," he hissed his tone full of exasperation. "All the tracks are done, unless Zack and Brian pull a miracle out of their butts and get us to re-record a few songs." He shot her a glance. "Which isn't going to happen. Mostly because Roger will have an aneurysm."

"So what's left to do?"

"Production stuff. Roger's going to do it."

"You said he was into producing."

"He's good at it too; he likes to go out to clubs and spot new acts. You guys used to go out together, remember?"

Lily smiled at the memory. "Mostly I was just there to get him home when he drank too much."

"He's got a hell of an ear. When I think back to all the times I wanted to throttle him because he didn't like a song I was writing, I think maybe he was right. He'd fiddle around; do things his way, and usually they became a hit. He did that with _Lily White_ , Brian was crying and Roger said it was too sappy, he wouldn't play it." He wished he hadn't mentioned the song; there was an awkward silence between them. "He still hates that song."

"I think it's beautiful.""Yeah, well I should hit the road," he said, standing up and picking up his coffee cup. "I want to try to get in early so I can pick up some stuff for Nick."

"Will you be back for dinner?" The question was so domestic she felt silly asking it.

"I think I'll probably stay in the city tonight. I'll be back Monday before you leave for work."

"That's probably best."

"You should know me better than that Lily; I rarely do what's best." He offered her his best rebel grin, but it didn't extend to his tired eyes.

The sliding door closed behind him before she could respond and not long after she heard the car door slam and the engine of the BMW purring as he pulled out of the driveway. She brought her coffee cup into the sink and sat it next to his. It looked like a family. She stood staring at the cups for a long time, feelings running through her like a brook, they passed so quickly they were merely impressions. She rinsed the mugs and set them in the dish drainer.

Last night shouldn't have happened. She knew it in her head, but her heart was having a hard time believing her. She had told herself it was inevitable, they had shared the best years of her life; he was the only man she had ever loved. But she knew also that they were both different now. Or maybe she was different and that was the problem. She'd grown up and he hadn't. He was still that twenty-one year old kid with a mischievous grin and a head full of tousled hair that would get into a fistfight with Tommy over a hairbrush. He may have grown up physically, filled out into those wide shoulders and that broad chest, but she was stupid if she thought he was anymore mature. There was a reason rock stars lived that way, fast and furious. When she was young it had been fun, and she admitted she had loved it. But she was older now, responsible with a child to care for. She couldn't throw caution to the wind the way she had when she was eighteen.

She dried the coffee mugs and absently placed them in the cabinet. She walked upstairs to the shower lost in thought. What would have happened if she hadn't gotten pregnant? She had always assumed that her leaving had had an influence on their success. What if they had stayed together? They had been on the brink of a record contract when she had left, and if that had gone through, even without the addition of _Lily White_ , she knew it would have become a hit. The songs were too electric, too raw not to. They would be catapulted to fame and she would have clung to him, trying to keep him from pulling away from her.

Vince downshifted off the highway. His mind was reeling from the frantic passion of the night before and the calm regret of the morning. It had felt so right, holding her, touching her. He couldn't wait, couldn't savor the feel of her, as he had wanted to. He had thought about it as he had laid in the bed two rooms away from her, remembered the intoxicating feel of her beneath him, remembered the scent of her, the velvet of her skin. He had told himself he couldn't lose control, he couldn't let his hormones rule him the way they had when he was younger. But when he got to close to her he became powerless, pulled in by a force he couldn't control. God, he didn't even like her anymore. She reminded him more and more of her mother, that same condescending attitude, that same constant fear for Nick's safety. Every word he had said the night before he had meant. He dreaded seeing Eleanor and Richard Rayes. They had hated him from the minute they had laid eyes on him, a tangle of dirty blond hair, leftover eyeliner smeared under his eyes, neon pink patent leather pants. He admitted it wasn't the best first impression but he was barely eighteen and he was bad. He knew he was, and he still thought he had to prove it to everyone else. Eleanor had been horrified and had started crying while Richard tried to figure out if Vince was a man or a woman. Lily had kept trying to smooth things over between them, to no avail. As time went on they seemed to accept it as best as they could, reserving themselves to short comments and remarks designed to prick the skin and then butterfly out beneath the flesh to cause the maximum injury with the least visibility. They both had dreams of Lily attending art school and marrying a fellow country club member's lawyer or doctor son, living in a big house with a white picket fence and driving a station wagon from PTA meetings to charity functions. What they hadn't counted on was a longhaired punk rock kid from New York to move in on her. They couldn't see past his appearance, could see how much he loved their daughter. So they saw him as a predator that had pulled the wool over their poor daughter's eyes. He remembered the day they left for Los Angeles, how Lily seemed to exhale as they left the state, as if she was letting go of something that she had held her whole life. She was different, the Lily that he had caught glimpses of in New York, the reason he had waited for her to come around. She shed the Lily that her parents wanted her to be, she let go of what people thought she let go of everything she had grown up thinking and she was herself. She didn't like to party, she never had. She cleaned up after them and yelled at everyone about picking up clothes and wasting money on blow dryers and hairspray. She couldn't stand the beer bottles and liquor bottles, she hated all the smoke. She didn't fit into them perfectly, but she kept them in check, kept them all from going too far. She balanced them. The rest of the guys had been pissed when Vince said she was coming with them, that she was living with them. But after a week away from their parents they were indebted for life to Lily. She kept them fed and relatively clean and made sure they were ready for shows, finding lost play lists and microphones and cords. And every night she was there, listening to them, watching them. He would never understand why she loved it; the music was pure raw male energy, loud and hard. She became a staple in the clubs; every one knew her by name, saved her the best seat at the bar.

He couldn't believe how much time had changed her. All that freedom she had captured had been crushed the moment she stepped off the plane in New York. He could only imagine the lecture she got from her mother on the ride to Westchester. He could see Lily; young, defiant, glaring out the window as her mother rambled on about the embarrassment of having an unwed teenage daughter. His heart squeezed for her, but she had become everything she hated about her mother.

He drove into the underground-parking slot of the apartment building and parked. He had a few hours before the meeting and he needed the time to think. He couldn't let himself get pulled in to close to her; he had to keep his distance. When he looked into her eyes he saw the Lily he knew, but she wasn't anymore. She was different, a wolf in sheep's clothing. He locked the car and walked to the elevator.

Chapter 6

"Somebody got laid," Roger commented as Vince walked into Chris Young's office. Zack and Brian were seated on the long couch to the left of the big desk and Roger was standing by the window smoking.

Vince glared at Roger and waved his hand in front of his face in an effort to clear the smoke. "You're going to get lung cancer," he said in way of a response.

Roger inhaled deeply and blew smoke directly into Vince's face.

"Hey!" Chris yelled, coming into the room from a side door. "If you wreck this voice you guys are out a lot of money!"

"He's retiring," Roger said, giving Vince a wicked smile. "To Connecticut."

"What are you in third grade?" Vince retorted.

He settled into a chair and looked at Brian and Zack for support. Zack gave him thumbs up and a big wink.

"What the hell is going on here?" Chris asked.

"Vince is back with his old girlfriend," Roger supplied.

Chris furrowed his brow as he sat on the edge of the desk. "Ava?"

Roger shook his head and let out a patient sigh. "Ava is his ex-wife. Lily is an old girlfriend; nobody ever told you the Lily story?"

"Oh! _Lily White_ , yeah, I heard that story. The chick that left him for no reason," Chris was nodding as he spoke.

"Well, now we know why she left-"

"Hello?" Vince said, throwing his hands up. "I'm right here. Can't you at least wait until I go to the bathroom to talk about me?"

Chris turned and looked pointedly at Vince. "So, why did she leave?"

"Can we talk about this damn CD?"

Roger mouthed. "I'll tell you later," over Vince's head and Chris gave him a knowing nod.

Vince shook his head. "You guys are so smooth."

"Alright, alright, enough talking about Vince's fascinating personal life. Jimmy tells me you guys are fighting, what's going on?"

The rest of the meeting was business, settling what still needed to be settled on the CD. After a few hours of talking they seemed to have resolved most of the issues. The tracks would stay the same, but some of the formatting of the CD insert would change. Vince left the meeting feeling exhausted.

He was unlocking his car when Roger jogged up behind him.

"Hey dude, you want to grab a bite to eat?"

It was the last thing Vince wanted to do, but he knew he had put distance between himself and Roger and the band since he had started watching Nick and he felt vaguely guilty. They picked a place not far and settled into a back corner. The staff was used to seeing them eat after meetings with Chris and no one paid much attention to them.

Roger lit a cigarette.

"You know you should quit," Vince said.

Roger shoved a handful of dark curls behind his ear. "It'll damage my image."

"It'll damage it more when your coughing up blood and dragging an oxygen tank around behind you."

Roger made a face at him and flicked the ash into the ashtray in front of him. "How's Lily?"

Vince let out a groan. "I don't want to get into this."

"You have that special glow, I know that glow." Roger took a drag off his cigarette and glanced towards the door. "You had that look with Lily the first time, and Ava. I know that look. It means somebody got laid."

"It doesn't mean anything," Vince glanced down at the tablecloth and smoothed a crease with his finger. "It's just my natural glow."

Roger blew smoke out with a short laugh. "It doesn't matter, I know what I know."

"Is that why you wanted to go out? To beret me about my sex life?" Vince asked darkly.

Roger looked down at the table and ground out his cigarette. "You know I'm not particularly sentimental," he started.

"Are you going to tell me you love me?" Vince asked.

"No," Roger said shooting him a dark look.

"Because I already know."

"You're wrecking my sentimental moment."

"I know sometimes it's hard for men to tell another man that they love them-"

"Vince! Shut up! I'm trying to be serious."

Vince tried to hide his smirk. "Okay, okay. What?"

Roger took a deep breath, his eyes on the tabletop. "It's probably just all this talk about breaking up, and the greatest hits album and you and Lily being back together, but I guess I'm feeling nostalgic."

"Nostalgic?" Vince asked.

"Stop it. This is hard for me; I'm being sentimental and nostalgic."

"Two extremely rare emotions for Mr. Roger Harrington," Vince agreed.

"Anyway," Roger said with exaggeration. "I was looking through some old boxes, pictures and papers and stuff, and I found a song that Tommy had written right before he died. You remember it?" Vince nodded. "We thought it was too poetic or whatever. I found a copy and I thought, maybe since production has been held up so long that we could maybe try to record it as a previously unreleased track on the album. And it might smooth things over with Zack. I think that if we gave it like an _Alice in Chains_ type makeover it might be cool. If we get into the studio in the next week or two we can get it on before they go to press."

Vince sat in stunned silence.

"Anyway, here's a copy of the lyrics. I messed around with some riffs, they're written on the side next to the words if you want to test it out. Just look it over, see if you think it's a possibility." Roger handed Vince I folded piece of paper from his back pocket. "Okay, I don't want to talk about it anymore. Just look it over and think about it."

Vince tried to hide a smile. "I didn't know you had it in you, Rog."

"Just shut up about it, Vince. I said I don't want to talk about it."

Vince grinned and took a long pull off his beer. "You're a softy at heart."

"Hey, I said cut it out."

The week seemed to fly by. Vince kept to himself, although it was hard for Lily to convince herself that was what she wanted. Every time she was in the kitchen she would find herself staring at the counter top, remembering what had happened, growing hotter the longer she thought about it.

On Friday Lily left work early and stopped at the grocery store to pick up what she needed for dinner. She found herself drifting aimlessly from aisle to aisle, unable to concentrate. She knew this night would be a disaster; there was no way it couldn't be. The question had become how to have the least amount of damage and how to keep Nick out of it. It surprised her how little he asked about her and Vince's relationship. Who was she kidding? she thought. He wasn't three years old anymore, he was almost ten and he wasn't stupid. She knew he was just being polite and respectful and not asking her why she had never told him about his father. She let out a deep sigh, realizing that soon they would need to have a very long conversation. She dreaded the thought, but she knew she owed it to Nick. And to Vince.

She tossed an assortment of wild mushrooms into the cart and then picked out a salad blend. It was hard to face her decision with new eyes. It had always just been the way it was and after so many years she had stopped questioning if what she had done was right. She had built Vince up into some kind of monster and now she couldn't tell herself that anymore. She wanted to believe she had been right, but there were too many nagging doubts. As much as she wanted to stuff him into a category box, every time she thought she found one that fit he would burst through another wall. He was different. He had grown up; he seemed to be more responsible. He was taking care of cooking and cleaning. She shook her head as she stood in line at the checkout. Maybe there was hope; she banished the thought almost as quickly as she thought it.

She drove home lost in thought and unloaded the groceries. She unlocked the front door and let out a blood-curdling scream.

Vince and Nick were coming down the stairs. They were both wearing leather pants and ripped up T-shirts, and their hair was teased up a good four inches. And they had gotten into her make-up. Nick had heavy eyeliner surrounding his eyes and he had streaks of red lipstick on his cheeks like war paint. His lips looked like they had been painted with black patent leather and he was wearing hot pink nail polish.

"Oh my God!" Lily screamed and dropped her groceries all over the floor.

"You're home early," Vince said with some disappointment. He sashayed down the steps and did a little twirl.

"What the hell do you think you are doing?" she shrieked.

"We thought we'd get dressed up for grandma," Nick said innocently, his bright eyes shining between layers of eyeliner.

"I'm going to kill you!" Lily yelled at Vince. "Both of you get your butts upstairs! NOW!" She screamed.

Vince let out a patient sigh. "I told you she wouldn't let us do it," he said to Nick.

Lily chased them upstairs and into the bathroom. She found cold cream in the medicine cabinet and started to work on Nick's face.

Vince was sulking, half-heartedly trying to wipe the blush off his cheeks. "I don't see why we can't have any fun."

"Fun?" Lily yelled. "I don't think its fun to give my parent's a heart attack!"

Vince grinned a wicked grin, but had the good sense not to say anything. "I thought she might not recognize me without my make-up." He was scrubbing his eyes with a washcloth. "I can't get this mascara off."

"It's waterproof, you idiot," Lily said, wiping Nick's fingernails with polish remover.

"How do I get it off?" Vince asked, his voice panicky.

Lily just shrugged.

"Lily!" Vince cried. The tender skin around his eyes was red from him scrubbing.

"You were the one that wanted to wear makeup."

"I can't just wear mascara, that's, you know..." he trailed off, looking mournfully at his eyes.

"Wait a minute and I'll get it off," she said. She turned back to Nick. "Is that it?" she asked, surveying him. Some of the eyeliner was smudged around his inner eye, but she couldn't get it off.

"Yeah, except-" Nick started to say.

"Shh!" Vince hushed him before he could say anymore. Nick clamped his hand over his mouth.

"Except what?" Lily asked sternly.

"Nothing!" Nick answered, skipping out of the bathroom.

Lily grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled him back into the room. "Except?"

Nick shrugged.

"Strip, young man," Lily said.

Nick looked up at Vince who was looking sheepish. Vince answered. "He may have a tattoo on his back."

"A tattoo?" Lily screamed. She yanked his shirt up over his head, covering his face. Sure enough there was a huge bird on his back with the words _born to be wild_ across a banner.

"It's not real," Vince said helpfully.

"How am I supposed to get this off?"

"The guy said baby oil," came Nick's muffled voice from beneath the T-shirt.

"Give me the baby oil in the medicine cabinet," she ordered Vince. He handed her the bottle and then went back to examining his eyes.

"Maybe I should start wearing mascara, look how pretty my eyes look." He batted his lashes at her and she rolled her eyes.

"Maybe you could help me?" She poured some oil onto a washcloth and started wiping Nick's back. "This is all your fault."

Vince was modeling in the mirror and didn't respond.

She got the last of Nick's tattoo off and sent him to his room to change. Vince was batting his eyelashes in the mirror.

"No wonder women find me irresistible," he said, shaking his hair and tossing it over his shoulder like a pageant queen.

Lily put the baby oil away and dipped her finger into the cold cream. "Close your eyes." Vince turned obediently with his back to the mirror and closed his eyes.

"I should blind you," she said, smoothing the white cream across his eyelids.

"Is this going to hurt?"

"Not unless I make it hurt. Just keep your eyes shut." She was aware of how close they were standing. Their thighs were brushing and she could feel his heat rolling off him.

" _Gimmie all of your lovin',"_ he started singing quietly under his breath. " _Come on and give it to me. Gimmie all of your lovin' tonight."_

Lily stayed quiet, but it was disconcerting. She could remember ten years ago wiping off his make-up in the cramped closet sized bathrooms in clubs, her ears still ringing from the amplifiers.

"Wearing make-up makes me want to sing," Vince said as a

way of explanation.

"Maybe you should look into a career on Broadway," Lily retorted. She rinsed the washcloth under warm water and washed the last traces of mascara off. "You're all set."

He opened his eyes slowly, blinking. "I can see!" He cried with jubilation. "It's a miracle!"

"Why are you in such a good mood today?" Lily asked darkly, rinsing the washcloth before she tossed it into the hamper.

"I'm going to see your parents tonight, that always puts me in a good mood." He was surveying his eyes in the mirror. "I think I look better with mascara."

"Don't buy waterproof."

Nick appeared looking very solemn in a pair of khaki pants and a white button down shirt. He had tried to comb his hair back into place but it was hanging in his eyes.

"Does Vince have to change too?"

She looked at Vince. "I can't believe you fit into those," she said, looking at his leather pants.

"Are you saying I got fat?" Vince turned so he could see his butt in the mirror. "I didn't get fat."

Lily shook her head. Now that they were both scrubbed clean, she had to admit it was funny. "Where did you find leather pants for Nick?"

Vince looked proud. "They're women's size zero. We cut the bottoms off."

Lily chuckled. "It would be pretty funny to have seen what my mother said."

"We could-" Nick and Vince chimed in.

Lily cut them off before they could finish. "No! You will both be dressed presentably tonight, and neither of you will be wearing any make-up." She turned to Vince. "And you owe me a shopping trip to Macys. I want new make-up."

Nick and Vince were outside with Lily when she heard her parent's car pull up. She called out that they were in the back and Eleanor and Richard Williams made their way down the flagstone pathway. Vince was sitting on a lawn chair near Lily and as Eleanor started approaching he started humming the wicked witch theme from the _Wizard of Oz_ under his breath. She shot him a look.

Nick climbed onto Vince's lap and possessively wrapped his arm around Vince's neck. Lily held her breath.

Eleanor paused where Vince was sitting. "Vincent," she said in greeting. "It's nice to see you without make-up."

"Mrs. Rayes."

"I think your old enough now to call me Eleanor," she said, smoothing her blond hair away from her face.

"I prefer Mrs. Rayes. I was taught to respect my elders."

She gave him a dark look and turned her attention to Nick. "Nick, darling how are you?"

"I'm good, grandma."

"Fine, Nick. When someone asks how you are you say fine."

"But what if you're only good?" Nick and Vince asked at the same time.

Lily jumped in. "Mom, it's nice to see you. Dad, how are you?"

Lily angled everyone inside and managed to shoot Vince a lethal look over her shoulder. He shot her a smile and shrugged.

Vince had brought several bottles of wine from New York, and Lily's father paused at the counter to look over the label.

"Lily, did you buy this?" he asked with concern.

She was getting glasses from the cabinet and turned to glance at her father over her shoulder. "Oh, no Dad, that's from Vince."

Richard Rayes raised his eyebrows over his glasses and looked at Vince. "Nice bottle," he said, giving Vince a nod of approval. Lily let out a breath she hadn't been aware she was holding.

"I wouldn't think you'd be drinking after that business with your friend," Eleanor said, trying to remember his name. "Thomas." She gave him a sickly sweet smile as the room grew quite.

"That business?" Vince asked in a low, steely voice.

"Well, he was drinking, wasn't he?" Eleanor said, her hands fluttering. "Naturally I assumed it would happen sooner or later, the way all of you lived."

Lily opened her mouth to say something, but the look on Vince's face froze her.

"Mrs. Rayes-" He started, but she cut him off.

"Of course I don't mean to be rude, Vincent. It's just to be expected if you live stupidly you will die stupidly. I think it's a shame, just like when anyone dies."

Lily could see his blood boiling. His face was red with anger as he stared at her mother. She wanted to crawl under the table and plug her ears and eyes until it was over. She didn't know what to say to diffuse the situation.

"I was glad to see the BMW outside, at least you bought a sensible car you couldn't drive off a cliff," Eleanor continued. "BMW's are very reliable."

No one was moving; the air was crackling with tension. Lily closed her eyes, expecting to hear the bomb explode. Instead she heard the soft _whoosh_ of the sliding door and when she opened her eyes Vince was gone. She turned to the window and caught sight of him standing on the deck, his back to her, shoulders tensed.

"Mother!" Lily yelled. "How could you?"

Eleanor raised an artfully penciled eyebrow. "Did I do something?"

"How could you say that?" Lily asked.

"Darling, all I said was the truth. Anyway, it was years ago. He ought to be over it by now."

Lily was so angry she couldn't speak. She caught sight of Nick opening the sliding door and tentatively walking towards Vince. She held her breath.

"I don't think he should be out there with him," her mother said, coming to stand beside her. "I don't think he's chemically balanced enough to be watching a child."

"Eleanor, I think you owe him an apology," Richard Rayes said from the other side of the counter.

Both women's head spun to face him.

"What?" They said in unison.

He looked sadly at his wife. "I think you ought to apologize."

"I will do no such thing! I think all of you are making much too big of a deal out of nothing!" Eleanor said haughtily.

Lily was still staring at her father, who never said anything, never took a stand on anything.

"I don't see how there is anything wrong with pointing out that drinking and driving is a bad idea," Eleanor said.

"Mother, Tommy was Vince's best friend. Yeah, maybe if he hadn't been drinking and driving he would be alive, but it doesn't make it any easier on the people he left behind." Lily was talking but watching as Nick and Vince spoke on the back steps.

Her mother made a sound in the back of her throat. "He probably couldn't see because of all the hair in his eyes."

Lily let out a deep breath and gave up. She angrily pulled out the salad she had made and slammed it onto the table. "For godssake, let's just get this meal over with," she said, uttering a curse under her breath. So much for damage control.

Nick sat down beside Vince on the step. He didn't say anything, but glanced up at Vince, as if judging his anger.

"Hey Bud," Vince said, looking over at Nick.

"Who's Thomas?" Nick asked softly.

"Tommy, everyone called him Tommy. Except your Grandma."

"Like she always calls you Vincent?" Nick made a face and exaggerated the name.

"Yeah. Tommy was my best friend, and the drummer in my band. He died a few years ago."

Nick looked down at his shoes. "I'm sorry," he said.

"Me too. I really miss him."

"When my mom told me my dad was away, I missed him. Even though I didn't ever know him."

"When did you figure it out?" Vince asked. It had hung between them, unspoken, for weeks.

"I look just like you." Nick said, looking down at his sneakers.

"I'm sorry Nick," Vince said gently. "I never knew." His voice choked a little. "So both of us went through the last ten years not knowing about the other one."

"It's okay, now we do."

The anger that had been festering inside him suddenly dissapated. His sons simple gratitiude was overwhelming. The way he viewed it was so different from the way that Vince viewed it. Vince was focused on all the things that he had missed, and Nick was focused on the fact that the past could not be changed. He wrapped his arm around his sons shoulder and pulled him close.

"Why didn't my mom want me to know you?" he asked.

"It was a long time ago, I was different then," Vince said. He was surprised at how easily the words came. He had been so angry at Lily, waiting to explain the injustice to Nick. "I think she thought she was protecting you."

"My mom likes to do that," Nick said with a grin. "She's always worried about me."

Vince's heart ached. "She's a good mom."

"What was your mom like?"

Vince didn't speak for a long time, drowing in memories. "My mom, she was..." he trailed off because he didn't know what to say. "I didn't grow up like your mom did. We didn't have a lot of money."

"Is that why grandma doesn't like you?"

He smiled faintly. "Maybe."

"But you have a lot of money now, right? She should like you."

"It's not that simple."

"I wish everyone could get along," he said softly.

"Come on, we should go to eat."

Dinner was silent; the sound of cutlery and glass rang out like a firing squad. Lily wanted to say something to Vince, to smooth things over, but he had retreated into his shell. His eyes were far away, lost in a swamp of memories that she would never know. Her parents left immediately after desert, and Vince retreated to his room.
Chapter 7

Ava Christian sat back in the passenger seat of the Corvette, impatiently brushing a lock of platinum hair behind her ear.

"Will this take long?" Her voice was like honey, sexy as hell.

Vince glanced over at her, taking in the mile and a half of smooth, tanned leg that extended from the short skirt she wore. "No, I just have to drop this stuff off."

"There's a difference between being fashionably late and getting there when everyone's gone," she turned her head and looked at the valley below, lights twinkled like the diamonds that covered her hands and throat.

"We'll get there," Vince said, downshifting as he spotted a few cars stopped up ahead. "I wonder what's going on?" he asked, catching sight of the spinning red and blue lights against the rocks. He felt icy cold tentacles of fear wrap around his gut. He put the car into neutral and yanked on the emergency break. "I'm going to see what the hold up is," he said. Ava was reaching into her purse for her lipstick and just nodded in response.

He got out of the car slowly. Tommy's house was just around the bend and he kept telling himself that Tommy wouldn't be leaving, Tommy was waiting for him. But he remembered the impatience in his friend's voice when he had spoken to him earlier. His drunk friend. He felt sick as he walked past the few other cars, people in luxury cars impatiently tapping their steering wheels. The strip of road was home to some of Los Angeles wealthiest; mansions were tucked away behind the curtain of trees. Vince saw a flash of bright red and he broke into a run.

The Ferrari had been ripped open. It sat in the middle of the road, its guts spilling across the asphalt like a wounded soldier. It was empty.

"Hey!" A cop yelled at him. There were police cars and fire trucks all over the road, but all Vince could see was Tommy's car. "What are you doing?"

"What happened to him?"

"You're Vince Maddox," the cop said, looking at his face.

"Is he okay?" Vince asked, his voice trembling as fear rapidly spread throughout every limb. He held his breath, praying, as he waited for the response.

"He's alive. It took the Jaws of Life to get him out, but he's alive. We just airlifted him to County General."

Vince turned before the cop said anymore, and before he knew it, he was in the car, jamming the car into reverse.

"What the hell!" Ava yelled as the car jerked backwards into a driveway. Vince spun the wheel and turned the car down the hill. "What happened?" she asked, studying Vince's face.

"Tommy's car crashed."

Her pretty face paled. "Oh my god, is he alright?"

An image of the twisted wreckage of the Ferrari appeared in his mind. "I don't think so," was all he said. Ava curved her hand over his on the gearshift.

Vince drove up to the emergency room entrance and was out of the car before the engine was off. Ava was right on his heels, her jewelry jangling, a flash of fur and blonde hair as she hurried to keep up with Vince.

"Tommy Hart," Vince said breathlessly to the nurse behind the desk. The room was silent.

"He's in the OR," the nurse said.

"He's still alive."

She nodded, blotting her eyes with a tissue. "Barely, we're doing everything we can."

Vince paced the length of the waiting room. This couldn't be happening, he kept telling himself. This was all a misunderstanding; this is all a mistake. Tommy would be fine; Tommy had to be fine. They were in the middle of a tour, the height of popularity; he had to be fine. But all he could see was his car in the flashing lights. Ava appeared and sank in to a nylon chair.

"I called Brian and Roger," she said softly. Her eyes were big and filled with sympathy and sadness; she stood slowly and put her arms around him. "I'm so sorry."

He felt the pressure of tears behind his eyes and he struggled to hold them back. "He's going to be okay, right?" he asked her in a choked voice.

She brushed back his hair, away from his eyes. "I don't know, honey. I hope so."

Twenty-five agonizing minutes later Roger and Brian rushed down the hallway. Vince could hear the press outside the hospital and he was aware of the police that were filling the hallway.

"What's going on?" Roger asked. "Is he okay?"

The four of them huddled on the couch, waiting for news. It seemed like forever before a doctor approached them, his face grim. Ava clenched Vince's hand in hers.

"Is he okay?" They were all asking.

The doctor let out a long breath. "He's alive. But I think it'll be a miracle if he makes it through the night. He's broken a lot of bones and he's suffered severe head trauma."

"If he lives through the night," Vince asked, swallowing hard on the painful words. "Will he be okay?"

"No," the doctor said bluntly. "His head injuries are to severe for him to ever make a full recovery."

"What does that mean?" Brian asked.

"It means he'll be a vegetable," Roger said with disgust, choking back tears.

The others looked at the doctor. "Yes," he said. "He'll most likely loose most brain function."

Vince sunk into a chair. It would never be the same, his life, the band, and Tommy's life. He had thought if only Tommy could hold on, if they could piece him back together he would be okay. He would be back there tossing his drumsticks into the air; he would be there playing tricks on Brian again. He would just need time to recover, and then he would be okay.

"Can we see him?" Brian asked, there were tears in his eyes.

The doctor looked at their faces and nodded. "Just a few minutes."

Ava patted Vince's arm as he left, following the doctor down the maze of corridors. They paused in front of the room where there was a large plate glass window that looked in. Tommy lay motionless, tubes and wires running through his nose and mouth. His head was wrapped in white gauze, stained already with blood. Vince could see his head had been shaved beneath it and he thought about how much Tommy had always loved his hair. It was wild and untamed, always in his eyes, always tousled. But everyone loved it; everyone wanted to touch it. And Tommy knew it; he had the biggest collection of hairbrushes and combs out of all of them. He felt the tears threaten again. This wasn't true, he kept repeating, this couldn't be. He took a deep breath. Tommy's face was badly bruised and swollen, almost unrecognizable without his wide grin, his bright eyes.

The doctor opened the door and escorted the three members of the band in. "Just five minutes," he said softly. He shut the door behind him.

They stood there silently, in a row at the bottom of the bed, watching as a machine pumped air into his lungs.

"Is this real?" Roger asked. "How can this happen?"

Brian was crying softly.

Roger's eyes glittered with unshed tears. "We can't lose him. We just can't."

"I think we already did," Vince said softly, thinking of the doctor's words.

"Maybe he's okay. Maybe it's not as bad as they think. Maybe if he wakes up he'll be okay," Brian said.

Roger turned away, wiping at his eyes almost angrily. "Look at him, Brian. He's not going to be okay."

"Roger," Brian said in agony. "Just stop."

Roger walked towards the edge of the bed, staring down at Tommy with frightening intensity. "How could he do this?"

"He didn't do it on purpose." Brian was wiping the fat tears rolling down his cheeks on the edge of his sleeve. "Don't get mad Roger."

Roger backed up and slammed his fist into the wall, denting the plaster. Brian flinched.

"How could he do this to us?" he cried.

"Stop Roger," Vince said softly. He couldn't take his eyes off Tommy.

Roger let out a sob and hit the wall again and again with all of his strength. Brian grabbed his arm and pulled him away from the wall and out into the corridor.And then Vince was alone in the room. It was silent, except for the steady beep of the life support. He pulled a chair beside Tommy's bed and he took his hand. "Hey Tommy, it's me." His voice cracked with emotion. "I guess you probably can't hear me."

He glanced up at his face, but looked away quickly. This wasn't the Tommy he knew. He didn't know what else to say, there were so many things, so much he wanted to tell him now, but it was too late. He struggled to find the words, struggled to put names on feelings. He choked out a sob. "I guess you have to go," he said, tears spilling across his cheeks. "I don't blame you; they cut off all your hair." He made a sound that was more like a sob than a laugh.

"Mr. Maddox," the doctor said from the doorway.

"Can I stay?" Vince asked. "I'd like to be here..." He couldn't bring himself to say the words, but he knew it was soon.

The doctor watched him for a minute. "You can stay."

He sat silently, holding Tommy's hand. He didn't speak, just held his hand. He could feel certain energy, ebbing and flowing through him. Memories raced through his mind, snapshots of their lives. He didn't know what life would be without him.

"Just let go, Tommy," he said softly, burying his face in the white sheets. "Just let go."

Vince woke up slowly from the dream, disoriented by the unfamiliar surroundings. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, taking in the small guest bedroom that was his. The walls were painted clean white, and an old patchwork quilt Lily had made hung on the wall. It was along time since he'd thought about Tommy's death. It hurt too much; it was still too fresh.

He rubbed his hand over his face as he glanced at the clock. He knew he wouldn't be able sleep again tonight. He got up and slipped into his bathing suit.

Lily woke to the rhythmic splash of water and for a brief moment, she thought she was near the ocean. She pushed the covers off her and went to the window. She could see Vince in the moonlight, swimming laps in the pool. His tanned back glistening with water. It was hypnotizing and it seemed as though she watched him forever, his smooth strokes cutting through the water with only the smallest sound. She knew he was upset, she could almost feel it from where she stood. Her mother had finally made a half-hearted apology to him, muttering something about "perhaps being a bit insensitive."

She found herself on the steps, the wood cold under her bare feet. She stopped in the kitchen, digging around in the bottom of the refrigerator for two beers. She slid open the door as quietly as possible and walked through the damp grass to the pool.

"Hey," she said softly, sitting on the edge of the pool and dangling her feet in. "You okay?"

He didn't look at her, just swam to the other side of the pool and braced his arms on the concrete to push himself out. Powerful muscles rippled across his back, glistening wet in the moonlight. He didn't answer, just walked to the edge of the yard, facing away from her. She wanted to go to him, to comfort him. But she stayed where she was. She unscrewed her beer and took a sip from the bottle. He turned to look at her.

"I was thinking about Tommy," he said softly.

She glanced down at her feet. "I'm sorry about what my mother said."

He came around the pool and sat on the end of a lounge chair. "It doesn't matter."

"I brought you a beer," Lily said, passing the bottle to him. "It wasn't your fault Vince. I know you; I know you take responsibility for everyone that you love. But it wasn't your fault."

"I just miss him," he said softly, absently peeling the label back from the beer bottle. "I really miss him. He would have gotten such a kick out of Nick. This whole situation," Vince's voice faded off into the night. "Sometimes I still can't believe it. Sometimes on stage I'll and spin around, expecting him to be back there, but he's not."

"I'm so sorry Vince."

"I was so angry at you," he said suddenly, looking up at her. "I thought you didn't care about me, you had just gotten sick of me and the band, and that's why you left. But I thought you could at least drop a sympathy card in the mail to let me know you knew."

Her heart ached. "I'm sorry Vince, I wanted too. It had just been so long, I didn't know what to say."

"I've never told anyone this," he half-smiled as he spoke, his eyes scanning the yard. "I saw you, two years after you left, in New York. We were playing at Madison Square Garden; it was our first big tour. I was out down near the Fashion Institute. And I saw you come out of the school, holding some guys arm and laughing. I saw you and more than anything I was angry at you, because I thought you just didn't know how to say goodbye. I thought you had just stopped loving me and wanted to move on with your own life. I remember I didn't want to sing _Lily White_ anymore but the producers made me, it was our biggest hit then. But I just didn't want to give you the satisfaction of knowing I had loved you that much when you could just stop loving me."

"Vince," she moved closer to him, sitting at his feet. She rested her head against his leg. _I never stopped loving you,_ she wanted to say, but the words hung, unspoken in the night air.

"When Tommy died, I thought you would have the decency to write a note saying you were sorry."

"I was washing the dishes," Lily started slowly. "I had the TV on in the living room and I heard something about Gunslinger and I ran to the TV like I always did when I heard the name. But they were showing a car, it was red and it was shredded to pieces. They were saying that the person was in critical care at the hospital and all I could think is God don't let it be Vince, please don't let it be Vince. But then I realized it had to be Tommy or Roger or Brian and I remember just crying, begging that it wasn't any of you, that I had misheard it. And then they showed a picture of Tommy, and my heart broke. I couldn't bear it. And what was almost as hard was how much I wanted to go to you, to comfort you. I wanted to be there for you. I prayed that someone was there."

He had stayed silent, listening to her. "Which brings us to Ava," he said finally.

She hadn't expected the sting of pain the name caused her. "Did you love her?" Lily asked before she thought about whether she wanted to hear the answer.

Vince settled his hand on her hair, his fingers sifting through the mahogany silk. "Yes," he answered truthfully. "We had only been dating for three months when Tommy died. If he hadn't the relationship would have burned itself out in another month or two. But he did die. And Ava was there for me through it all. She fended off reporters and interviews, she planned the funeral. She was perfect in that situation and we both mistook that for everlasting love. A few months after the wedding, as the pain of Tommy's death faded, we both realized that it just wouldn't work. We tried for a while, but we finally just decided we were better off as friends."

"I hated her," Lily said honestly. She giggled, "I used to see her in magazines and I'd give her a goatee and devil horns or draw zits all over her face."

Vince laughed. "You know how much they airbrush those pictures, don't you? She was really six hundred pounds with terrible acne and a limp."

Lily let out a groan. "Shut up, she was five eleven, forty pounds, ten of which was breast. I know you Vince; you wouldn't be seen dead with what you just described."

He looked offended. "I have matured a lot in the past ten years! I loved her for who she was inside, not what she looked like on the outside."

Lily rolled her eyes. "You're so full of crap."

"Now you, you were just animal attraction. I didn't love you at all."

She pushed him and he picked her up and dropped her in the pool.

"You jerk!" she cried as she came up. "You're going to wake up everyone in the neighborhood."

But he had changed; his eyes had darkened with desire. His eyes fixed on the twin nipples that were poking through her oversized shirt.

"It's the water, cowboy. It's freezing," she said, looking down at them.

Vince playfully dipped his toe in. "Doesn't feel cold to me."

She was treading water, and she splashed him from where she was.

"You remember the pool at your mother's house?" he asked innocently.

Lily flipped over and swam to the deep end. "I remember it." The water caressed her overly sensitive skin as she cut through it, sending ripples of pleasure through her.

"Do you remember what we did?" he asked. She heard him slid into the pool and she turned to look at him.

"I remember," she said, a blush creeping into her cheeks.

He stayed where he was, his eyes dark, watching her. "You snuck out, late one night when your mother thought you were all tucked in."

"Shh," Lily yelled, splashing him again.

"And you met me in the pool house-"

Lily shrieked and swam towards him. "Shut up!"

Vince grinned at her. "Make me."

She kissed him. She didn't know where it came from, what had possessed her. She had spent the last week convincing her to stay as far away as possible. But she knew in her heart how badly he needed this. She needed it. She closed her eyes, feeling the softness of his lips against hers, probing, opening hers. She gasped against him, threading her fingers through his damp hair. His hands slid under the heavy, wet fabric of her T-shirt, traveling up her slender waist to her breasts. She moaned as his fingers brushed against her nipples, cupped her breasts. Suddenly he drew back.

"Do you want to do this?" he asked, breathlessly.

Her lips were trembling, and she could feel his hands tighten around her as he waited for her answer.

"Yes," she managed. His lips were back on hers in an instant, desire rippled through her, she felt drunk on it, needy. She clung to him, to his shoulders. He slipped the T-shirt over her head and their chests were touching, flesh against flesh in the water. He let his hands slid down her back, lifting her to him. She felt his need, the passion that was tearing through him.

"Upstairs," he uttered his voice hoarse and raw. "We're gonna do it right this time."

They climbed out of the pool, holding hands, nearly naked, and ran across the lawn to the deck. Vince slid open the door and followed Lily through it. They raced upstairs, and collapsed on the bed, giggling.

Vince rolled on his side and looked down at her. Her skin shone with water in the silver moonlight, her eyes seemed like deep wells, bottomless. He brushed the wet hair out of her eyes. _I love you,_ the words were on the tip of his tongue, but he left them there, unsure of where they would take him, take them. Better to relish in these moments, to savor the feel of her skin against his, the catch of her breath when he touched her, her arms around him. He kissed her gently, stroking her cheek with his fingertips. He trailed kisses across her neck, her breasts, loving how her back arched into him. His mouth traveled across the flat plane of her belly to her thighs. He teased her, kissing up her leg and then back down, each time growing closer to the apex of her thighs. Finally, he rested his lips against her, kissing her as deeply and as gently as if he were kissing her mouth. She moaned, her hands twisted in his hair, begging him to stop, pleading with him not to as he brought her to orgasm again and again. Her body was trembling, her muscles tensed as she begged him to enter her.

And then he was inside her, her body welcoming him, slippery and wet. He moved against her, rhythmically, expertly. Her hips turned up to meet his, her arms clung to his back, her feet hooked into his knees. She was frantic, her body quivering beneath his. When it was finished neither could speak, they lay together, a tangle of hot limbs and sweat dampened sheets.

Chapter 8

Lily awoke to voices in the backyard, and she rolled over to find the bed empty. She ached in places she had forgotten, Vince had held her close all night and they had made love again. She didn't know where this would take them and it frightened her to think about it. She climbed out of bed and went to the window. There were half a dozen police men standing around talking to Vince. Nick was standing with Jen and Joey off to the side. Panic gripped Lily as she grabbed her robe and raced down the stairs.

"What's going on?" she asked as she burst through the door on to the deck. Something had to be wrong, the police were here, but it seemed that everyone was laughing and talking. "What happened?"

A cop nodded in Jen's direction. Lily's friend walked over, looking sheepish. "I heard some noises last night, and then this morning I thought I saw someone floating in the pool. I was too scared to get close enough to see what it was."

Lily spotted her oversized T-shirt in a wet pile on the concrete that skirted the pool. "My shirt?" she asked.

Jen gave her a smile. "Yup, it was all filled up with water and I could swear it was a dead body. So I called the cops."

Vince caught her eye and gave her a devilish grin. He was signing one of the cop's notebooks and when he was finished he ambled over. "I didn't want to wake you, I heard the cops knocking on the door."

"Used to it?" she asked flipply. In the morning light, looking at what they had done she felt the sting regret.

Vince rolled his eyes. "Jesus, not this again." he muttered under his breath.

"What?" She asked, eyeing him.

"LILY!" Her mother's voice cried. Eleanor Rayes was stumbling across the lawn, her heels sticking in the soft earth. "Lily, what happened? The Captain called and said a man drowned in the pool!" She caught sight of Vince and looked a little disappointed.

"Mom, what are you doing here?" Lily yelled, watching as her mother leaned down to clean the soil off her pumps.

"Your father plays golf with the police captain and he called this morning and said somebody was dead. Hello, Vincent," she added. "So, who died?"

"Mom, I don't believe you, you're keeping tabs on me? Did you ask this police captain to call you if something happened at my house?"

"For gods sake Lily you're my only child. I think I have a right to know what goes on in your life."

"I'm thirty-one years old! You don't have the right to know what goes on in my life!" Lily noticed everyone was staring at her. Nick had wrapped his arms around Vince's leg and was watching the action from there.

"Lillian, you be quiet! I will not have this conversation in front of a bunch of perfect strangers!" Eleanor said, realizing at the same time the audience they had.

"You mean you don't know all the cops by name? I just assumed since you and the Captain were such good friends that you knew these officers," Lily snapped.

Eleanor's face was red with anger. "Isn't somebody dead?"

The officer closest to her shifted his feet. "Actually it was just a T-shirt."

"A T-shirt? What on earth was a T-shirt doing in the pool?" a thought suddenly occurred to her. "It must have been a vagrant, bathing. Lily, you must have the pool drained and cleaned!" she said with disgust.

Lily sank to the bottom step of the stairs to the deck and buried her head in her hands. "It's my T-shirt, mom. I left it out and it blew into the pool."

"And you though it was a dead body?"

"I didn't call the police, mom."

Jen stepped foreword. "I did, Mrs. Rayes. I was too scared to get close enough to see what it was."

"So nobody's dead. Well, I suppose then, you officers are finished," she said pointedly. She waved them off like you would a pesky bug.

The officers all flipped closed notebooks and shook hands with Vince. Lily could tell they would rather be standing around in her backyard with her crazy mother and a rock star than handing out jaywalking tickets or whatever else the police in this township did. Jen and Joey retreated to their house leaving the four of them alone.

"None of this sort of thing happened before you came along!" Eleanor said as soon as they were alone, pointing an accusatory finger at Vince.

"Mother! Stop it!" Lily groaned from the steps.

"I'm so sorry to have inconvenienced you, Mrs. Rayes. When I was throwing Lily's T-shirt in the pool to trick everyone into thinking there was a dead body back there, I didn't realize you would have to make a special trip out for no reason," he said innocently, lifting a shoulder and letting it fall.

Eleanor shot a stream of air out through her nose. "I will not have you speaking to me that way!"

Vince placed a protective hand on Nick's head. "What way?"

"Sarcastically, Vincent. If your parents had ever bothered to raise you, you might know that it's rude to speak that way to your elders."

Vince's eyes darkened. He let go of Nick and motioned him towards Lily. He pointed his finger at Eleanor, his voice low and steely. "Let's get one thing straight, you don't know my parents and I would appreciate it if you didn't drag them into this."

"Maybe I don't know them, but I know if they were any sort of parents you wouldn't have been wearing make-up and playing trash in filthy rundown alley clubs in the city."

"My parents let me be who I was, which is a lot more than can be said about you," Vince fired back.

"I let my Lily be exactly who she wanted to be until you came along and destroyed everything."

"You're Lily?" Vince asked.

Eleanor's eyes flashed. "Yes, she's my daughter."

"But apparently, who she wanted to be was with me."

"Your brainwashed her!" Eleanor screamed.

"Mother! He didn't brain wash me, I wanted to be with him."

"Then why did you come running home when you were pregnant! Because you knew you made a mistake!"

Lily was holding Nick and she whispered for him to go inside. He obeyed, scurrying up the steps and into the house. They were all silent for a long time after.

"How come you told me you didn't want to talk to him when he called? Because you didn't want anything to do with him!"

Vince was holding his breath, waiting for Lily's response. She closed her eyes for a moment, and took a deep breath.

"Mom, the only time I ever felt free, in my whole entire life, was when I was with Vince," tears oozed from beneath her lashes as she spoke. "I was so scared if I told him I was pregnant, that I wouldn't be free anymore. Neither of us would be. And I figured if I was going to be miserable, I might as well not tarnish the only good thing in my life. So I decided to come back to you."

Vince let out a deep breath.

Eleanor's eyes were sharp with pain. "Was I so bad? Was I so horrible to you?" she asked, her voice choked with pain. "I always gave you everything you wanted."

"I wanted to be with him," Lily said simply. "And you couldn't give me that."

"He wasn't right for you, Lily! He wasn't the sort of man you could marry and settle down with."

"He wasn't the sort of man you could tell your friends about, mom. He wasn't the sort of son-in-law you would be proud of. He was right for me, he just wasn't right for you."

"I knew what was best for you before you did. Haven't you been happy these last years?"

Lily was silent for a time. Vince was standing, watching her, and her mother was desperately clinging to something she had thought for ten years, watching it disintegrate before her eyes. "I don't want to talk about this, it's not important anymore," she finally said, her voice surprisingly calm.

Vince looked disappointed as his eyes dropped to the grass, but after last night, she couldn't make herself more vulnerable. She had been lonely, miserable. She had missed him, craved him for ten years. But she couldn't tell her mother that, and she couldn't tell Vince. She felt too raw, to exposed to be baring her soul to them now. She got up and dusted her robe off, closing the top with her fist.

"Lily," her mother said, her voice restored to its normal pitch. "Your father and I are taking the sailboat up to the Vineyard. We thought that perhaps Nick would like to come for the week. Just let me know before next Tuesday, we're planning to leave Wednesday."

Lily just nodded; suddenly she was too tired to talk anymore.

Her mother turned and walked quickly down the flagstone path, her heels tapping on the smooth gray stones.

Vince looked over at Lily. He smiled gently, his brown eyes soft and docile. "You want some coffee?" he asked.

She nodded weakly. "She's such a bitch," she muttered, wiping the last of her tears with the back of her hand.

He laughed, and she liked the sound, she glanced over at him and his eyes were sparkling. "There's my girl," he said, following her up onto the deck and through the door into the house.

"Well she is. I hate her."

"Mom?" Nick asked. He was sitting at the kitchen table, stone faced. "Can I go to Martha's Vineyard? I want to go sailing with Grandpa."

Lily realized the windows were open and Nick had heard everyone word, the lead weight in her chest grew heavier. "Sure, sweetie, I'll call Grandpa later tonight and tell him you want to go." She wanted to say something about everything he had heard, but she didn't know what or how to start.

"Nick, I need to tell you something."

"It's ok mom, I already know."

She sighed and sank into a chair, pulling her legs to her chest. "I'm sorry honey."

"Vince says that you did it to protect me, that he was really different back then."

She glanced at Vince. "You two talked about it?'

"He didn't have to tell me mom, I look just like him and why else would a famous rock star be babysitting me?"

She burst out laughing. "I guess I underestimated your intelligence."

Vince poured two mugs of coffee and set one in front of Lily.

Nick started to giggle. "It was pretty funny that Ms. Garner thought your shirt was a dead body."

Lily laughed with him. "Yeah, it was pretty funny."

She glanced at Vince, he was smiling, but not his eyes, they were dark, studying her. She looked away; feeling uncomfortable under his gaze, hating the way her body responded to him, hating the blush that was creeping up her neck.

"I still got my pajama's on," Nick said, sensing the tension. He got up from the table and hurried out of the kitchen and up the stairs. Lily got up too.

"I should get dressed."

Vince grabbed the sleeve of her robe. "Not so fast, lady," he murmured.

He pulled her close, letting his arms fall around her loosely. He nuzzled her neck, trailing feather-light kisses across her neck.

"Vince," she said her voice hoarse and ragged. She felt her body curving towards him, her back arching, her hips pressing against him.

"I didn't get to say good morning properly," he said, smoothing his open hands across her bottom.

"Vince, we can't," she said. But she didn't move, didn't pull away from him. His lips brushed hers and she felt tiny electric sparks bursting where his hands touched, his lips touched. "I have to go get dressed," she murmured against his lips.

He kissed her again, his lips clinging to hers. "Go, get dressed," he said. He let go and moved to the refrigerator. "I'll start breakfast."

Bacon was popping in the frying pan when she got back downstairs. Vince was sitting on the counter reading a cookbook.

"What are you making?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Waffles, maybe."

"I don't have a waffle iron."

He grinned at her. "That's part of the maybe. I was going to see if Nick could put dents into the waffles as they were cooking."

"What do I have to do?" Nick asked from the doorway.

"I'm using you as slave labor," Vince said, going back to his book.

"What's slave labor?" Nick asked, squeezing into a chair without pulling it out.

"That's how you do it," Vince said to Lily. "Keep them ignorant. That way they don't know any better."

Nick let out a deeply affected sigh. "What are we going to do today?"

"I thought maybe we could hang out by the pool." Lily suggested.

"But there was a dead guy in it this morning," Nick said mournfully, he did an exaggerated shoulder shrug.

"It wasn't a real dead guy," Lily said. "And I think it's going to be beautiful today."

Nick twisted around in his chair so he could see the sky. "I think it's going to rain," he said, very seriously. He settled back in his seat and looked at Vince expectantly.

"What?" Vince asked, glancing up at him over his cookbook.

"You promised I could play the guitar," Nick said quietly.

"Of course you can play the guitar, whenever you want."

"The gold one?" Nick asked, sliding down low in his seat so that his chin was settled on the table.

"You want to play the Gibson?" Vince asked, surprised.

Nick just nodded.

"But it's back in New York."

"Why don't you get somebody to bring it?" Nick asked from under the table.

"Maybe we can have a Barbecue, invite Brian and Roger and whatever his name is."

"Zack," Vince said, shooting her a disgruntled look. "I don't know if you're up to seeing Roger anyway."

"Why?" Lily asked, taking the strips of bacon out of the frying pan.

"He has the sight," Vince said, hopping off the counter and brushing his hand across her lower back as he stole a piece of bacon.

"What sight?" Lily said. "The only thing Roger sees is girls in short skirts."

"He said I was glowing," Vince said proudly.

"Glowing," she snorted.

"You know." He gave her a knowing look.

Lily pinched the bridge of her nose. "Get me some coffee."

She heard him mumble something about being bossed around under his breath as he poured the coffee into her mug.

Vince called Roger later in the afternoon. The sleepy voice of a girl answered the phone.

"Lemme talk to Roger," Vince asked, rolling his eyes.

"Sure, hold on."

He heard the girl trying to rouse Roger and he finally answered, his voice sleepy. "What?"

"Jesus Christ Rog, it's three in the afternoon."

"Shut up Vince, what do you want?"

Vince rolled his eyes. "You wanna get Brian and Zack to come out to Lily's for a barbecue?"

"What?" Roger asked, Vince heard him sit up. "Barbecue, what the hell are we, the Brady bunch?"

"Do you want to come or not?"

"Yeah, fine. I'll be there."

"Hey, Rog, do me a favor and stop by my apartment and pick up my Gibson, Nick wants to play it."

"Christ, there's always a catch."

"Roger, you live four buildings down from me."

"Yeah whatever, I'll be there."

They arrived in separate cars, a convoy of fancy sports cars roaring through the streets of New Haven. Roger was leading, followed by Brian and Zack. Roger climbed out of the low slung black corvette he was driving. He dragged a guitar case behind him and lugged a plastic shopping bag up the front steps. Brian had some more bags and Zack had a case of beer.

"The Calvary's here," Vince announced, peaking out the front window. Nick was on his heels when he opened the door for the guys. Roger hauled the shopping bag onto the counter.

"I brought steaks," he said, scrutinizing the bag.

Lily looked in the bag. "You brought a cow."

Brian was unloading containers from his bags. "Grace made potato salad and some kind of pie, it's from the other night, I don't know if I'd want to eat it or not. It's probably bad."

"No wonder she hates you," Roger said under his breath.

"Hey," Zack snapped. "Stop picking on him."

Roger rolled his eyes. "Oh, Christ."

"Guys," Lily said with warning. "No fighting."

Vince was trying to shove the case of beer into the refrigerator. "This is a bonding experience."

"This was just an excuse for my ass to drive your stupid guitar out here to Suburbia."

Lily shot Roger a dark look and he had the grace to look sheepish. "You have a nice house, Lily," he said by way of an apology, giving her a peck on the cheek.

"I was hoping your wife would be here, I was looking foreword to meeting her," Lily said to Brian.

"She was busy," Brian said, looking at the counter. Lily sensed a pain in his eyes. She would talk to him later.

"Yo, Vince, where's the kid?" Roger wanted to know.

Vince looked around, but Nick had disappeared.

Lily scanned the room. "I think he went upstairs. He's shy."

"I'll run this up to him," Roger said, holding the guitar.

Vince led the way upstairs. "You didn't have to say that about Grace," Vince said. "Now Lily's gonna be on him like white on rice."

Roger smiled. "It'll be good for him. He should talk to someone."

Vince paused on the stairs, looking at his longtime friend. Roger had always seemed too brutally honest, sometimes even callous with his friends. He didn't believe in babying or kid gloves, he always gave it to you straight, no matter how much it hurt. And Vince knew people resented him for it, thought he could be short, rude. But suddenly he saw through it, it was Roger's way of pushing people to where they could deal with whatever was hurting them. Roger wasn't sentimental or mushy, but he could see where people were wounded and he would try to expose it to the air, no matter how much it hurt, so that it could heal.

"You're looking at me weird," Roger said suspiciously.

"You're a good guy, Rog."

Roger rolled his eyes. "Don't wimp out on me now, Vince. We have one more tour and then you can start writing Hallmark cards."

"I'll try to contain myself."

"I got back those demo's from the music we did on Tommy's song, they rock."

"You bring them?"

"Yeah, they're out in the car." He paused. "You listen to them and see if you can work the lyrics in and then you just gotta go lay them down and were done. You think you can do it sometime this week?"

"I'll see what I can do."

"Speaking of which, we really need to start rehearsals. We only have about four weeks until the tour starts."

"I know," Vince said softly. He tried to ignore the stab of fresh pain that the thought brought. A little less than a month left with Nick.

And Lily.

His heart jumped at the memory of last night, the silk of her damp skin, the heat of her feverish flesh. The way she tasted, the way she tightened around him, the way her body clung to him. He had forgotten the simple pleasure of lying beside her. The way her body curved into his, the way she fit so perfectly against him. He had lain awake last night, thinking about the impending tour. He knew she wouldn't come with him, that she would be insulted if he even brought the idea up. She had her life, she would say. She couldn't just drop everything to be with him. At times she would look at him with bright eyes and it would hit him like a cinder block in the chest. But most of the time he wanted to throttle her, to shake her until that girl he used to know would emerge.

They reached Nick's room and found the boy sitting on his bed fingering chords.

"Hey Buddy," Roger said.

"You're Roger, right?" Nick asked shyly.

"In the flesh." Roger looked down at Nick with sparkling eyes. "I heard you have an interest in learning to play the guitar."

Nick was trying hard not to smile. He just nodded, biting his lip to hide his shyness.

"This is a Gibson SG," Roger started. "Helluva guitar. I want you to forget anything Vince told you and just listen to me." He sat down beside the bed and pulled the guitar out of the case. Vince stood in the doorway, half-listening to Roger as he droned on about pick-ups and sound quality. His eyes were on his son, intent, serious as he listened to Roger. And Vince fell in love all over again.

"Oh my God, we have too much food," Lily announced to Brian and Zack.

"You got any girlfriends you can call?" Zack asked hopefully.

"I'll call Jen," Lily said.

"Is she hot?" Zack asked, poking through the containers Brian had brought.

"She has big breasts," Lily offered, picking up the phone.

"Sweet," Zack said, nodding enthusiastically.

Forty-five minutes later Roger and Vince were trying to light the Barbecue and Zack was talking to Jen and Nick was showing Joey the pentatonic scale that Roger had taught him.

"They seem to have grown a lot closer," Lily said, sitting down next to Brian. Her eyes were on Roger and Vince. Vince was liberally dousing the briquettes with lighter fluid. He tossed a match on it and the whole heap exploded. Roger stepped back, grumbling something about his hair catching on fire.

Brian smiled. "Yeah. After Tommy died I sort of pulled away. Grace and I were talking about getting married and I figured the band would break up, but Roger and Vince really leaned on each other. Roger's really opened up over the years."

"What about you? How are you holding up?"

Brian shrugged. "I'm okay. I'm fine." But he didn't sound convincing.

"You always were a bad liar," Lily said.

Brian laughed, his eyes still on Roger and Vince, who were still messing with the fire. "My wife and I are having some problems, as Roger so eloquently alluded to."

"That's just Roger," Lily said gently.

"I know. What about you and Vince?"

Lily felt her heart flutter and she wished she knew the answer. "I don't know," she said honestly, her eyes on Vince. "I really don't know."

Brian watched Vince squirt lighter fluid onto the grill and the flames shot up. "Just be careful Lily. I don't want to see either of you hurt." She could see the tug of loyalty in his eyes, as if he was warning her, but he couldn't just come out and say it.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Just be careful."

Chapter 9

Vince finished washing the last plate and Lily took it out of the dish drain and dried it. It was late, everyone was gone and Nick was in bed. They hadn't spoken much as they cleaned up; there was too much that could never be said in words. It was strange enough to have him here, but spending the evening with the guys had brought back so much for Lily, she loved watching the camaraderie between them, years of friendship, of touring, had given them a sort of closeness, an intimacy. It was striking how well they knew each other, how they almost anticipated each other. And she longed to be part of that again. She longed to feel like she belonged to something. She realized she had been functioning on autopilot all these years, afraid to let anyone too close.

"You want some wine?" Vince asked, holding up a half-empty left over bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon.

"Sure," she said softly. She slid into a chair at the kitchen table and rested her foot on the seat. "It was nice to see everyone," she commented as he set the glass in front of her.

Vince nodded. "It was good to have a day when we didn't have to work."

"When do you leave for the tour?" Her heart cracked as the words left her mouth, the uncertainty in her chest slid through the crack undetected and her heart trembled with lounging and vulnerability.

"About a month. We need to start rehearsing soon." Vince absently swirled the wine in his glass.

He hadn't answered the question she wanted to ask, and she wasn't surprised. He was letting her down easy, never saying the words that would shatter her heart. This was what Brian had warned her of.

"How long will you be gone for?" She swallowed hard, he wouldn't look at her, his eyes were fixed on the wood tabletop and his fingertips traced the outline of a knot on the surface.

"We wrap up the tour in New York in June."

"And then what?" Her voice cracked and he glanced up at her. He was unshaven, as always, and his skin was smooth and golden in the glow from the overhead lamp. His eyes were hooded, the color of melted milk chocolate, and there was sadness in them. Sadness for her, sadness that he would be letting her down the same way she had him ten years ago. Suddenly she didn't want to know the answer to her question; she didn't want to know what he would be doing without her. He was now a fixture in her life whether she wanted him or not. He knew about Nick and he would never let him go; she could suffer for the rest of her life, watching him love his son, their son, but not her. She would go to bed alone, and her life would become the lonely monotonous thing had had been, only with the knowledge that what they had shared in the past was dead, at least dead to him. That the dreams she had clung to for ten years were nothing but memories of a teenage love affair, something he had forgotten in a few short years and she had clung pathetically to for a decade.

She stood up abruptly. "I should go to bed, I'm really-"

"Lily."

She stopped in her tracks. His voice was hoarse, husky as if it were drawn from the depths of his soul. Her throat tightened with impending tears and she bit her lip to keep from crying out.

Her back was to him, but he could see in the slight tremble of her shoulders she was crying. "Lily," he said again, letting her name roll off of his tongue like a caress.

He stood and went to her, letting his hands fall lightly on her hips, feathering kisses along her hair. She turned slightly to him, and he cupped her cheek in his open palm.

"Why are you so angry at me?" he asked.

Tears came fresh and hot, spilling across her cheeks and wetting her lips. "You never found me," she cried. "I just wanted you to come and get me."

"Oh, God, Lily, I tried," he said, his voice was wrought with pain and his eyes melted her heart. "I tried so hard and then I just felt stupid, I didn't think you wanted me anymore."

"I did, Vince. I feel so stupid now. I was playing mind games, I wanted you to prove to me how much you loved me, but whatever you did it wasn't enough until you gave up. I'm so selfish-" Her words were cut off by a sob and Vince wrapped his arms around her, smoothing her hair with his hand.

"It's okay baby," he whispered in her ear. "It's okay."

It seemed like she cried forever, years of pent up pain trickled down her cheeks and wet his shirt. He closed his eyes and let it saturate through him, her regret, her pain and the honesty that had broken through them.

Finally she pulled away from him and looked up at him with tear stained eyes and trembling lips. "I'm going to look like hell in the morning," she said, dashing at her eyes with the back of her hand.

"You're beautiful," he said, brushing the hair from her eyes. He kissed her gently on the forehead. "But I'll tell you a trick I learned from Ava, preparation H."

"The hemorrhoid cream?" She asked, getting a tissue from the dispenser.

"Yup, it tightens up the tissue and makes swelling disappear. Good for photo shoots after a night out on the town. If you don't have any I'm sure your mom has some you could borrow."

Lily laughed as she wiped away the last of her tears. "I'm sorry," she said, letting out a deep breath. "I didn't mean to-" she trailed off, motioning to his tear stained shirt.

"It's okay," he was smiling at her.

"I feel better."

"You look better," his eyes darkened.

"Oh no," she said, sensing his intentions.

He gave her his best mischievous smile, his eyes thick with desire. He caught his finger through her belt loop and pulled her towards him. His finger trailed across her plump lower lip, outlining it. He leaned forward tentatively, catching her lip between his. Her eyes drifted closed, and his hands pulled her closer to him, her hips against his. Her hands slid beneath his shirt, against his cool skin, smoothing across the planes of his stomach, the ledge of his hips. Her body was alive; her nerve endings raw, rippling with need, with electricity beneath the sheath of her skin. Each touch was red hot. He cupped his hands across her bottom, slid his hands up her back, his touch skimming the surface of her flesh, subtle, aching.

His lips covered hers, deepening the kiss as his hands explored her body.

"Let's go to bed," she said against his lips. She turned off the kitchen lights and followed him up the stairs to her bedroom. He closed the door behind them, taking a moment to take her in. Her hair was long and loose, falling below her shoulders, slightly mussed. Her skin was honey, taut and flawless. She shrugged out of her loose button down shirt, letting it drift to the floor. Her bra was white lace, her breasts spilling from the cups and tapering to her small waist.

"Take off your shirt," she said. Her eyes were jade in the darkened room, flecked with shimmering amber. Her lips were a rosebud, tender and full, begging to be sucked on. He slid the T-shirt over his head and let it fall to the ground. Her small, tanned hands explored the flat planes of his chest, her touch light and fleeting. Her lips touched his shoulder, gently, trailing hot kisses across his chest and neck. His hands easily unhooked her bra and the soft lacy fabric fell away, forgotten. Her breasts pressed against his chest, soft flesh against flesh. His body ached with need, for release. He lay her on the bed, letting his fingers feather across her stomach, her hips. His kisses were slow and gentle and patient, drawing from every ounce of restraint he had.

"You're beautiful," he murmured. His lips touched her nipple with the softest kiss and her back arched into him, begging for more. He let his hands roam, loving the feel of her skin, the silk of her hair. He was content when he was near her, content in the feel of her, the way her body moved with his, the way she arched into him, the way she opened to him. Her eyes drifted closed as he caressed her, as his fingers explored her. Her lips parted and a small sigh escaped like a purr from her throat. She clung to him, and when it was over, they lay together, content.

"So, what do you guys want to do tonight?" Lily asked. She closed the box of pizza and stuffed it into the bottom of the fridge. "We could watch a movie."

"If I'm not mistaken, you have a hot date tonight," Vince said, shuffling through a deck of cards.

"What?" Lily asked, jerking her head around. It had been almost a week since the barbecue. Vince had snuck into her room almost every night since then. "What date?"

Vince smiled and shrugged.

"You did this?" She snapped. How could he? What was he trying to do? How could he make love to her so gently and passionately and then fix her up on a date? "I'm not going."

"He'll be here at nine."

She glanced at the clock. Eight-thirty. "It doesn't matter, I'm not going."

Nick glanced up at her with a smirk. "Why not, mom? Maybe you'll really like him."

"First of all, I'm not going out with anyone who picks me up at nine o'clock at night. And, I'm not interested, young man."

"I think you should go." She could tell by the smirk on Nick's face that he knew what was going on.

"Are you playing a trick on me?" she snapped.

Vince shrugged and Nick burst into laughter, sliding under the table he was giggling so hard.

At nine fifteen the doorbell rang and Lily stormed into the hallway and jerked it open.

"Roger?" she yelled. Without even greeting him she turned around and stalked back to the kitchen. "You're fixing me up with _Roger_?"

Vince just grinned. "It's not a real date."

"I feel so loved," Roger said, coming into the kitchen behind her. "What's so wrong with me?" he asked Lily.

Lily just stared at him.

He smiled. "Look, there's this new band playing tonight in the city and I thought maybe we could check it out, you know, like we used to."

"Roger," she warned. "I'm not going out with you."

"They're called _Flagrant Debauchery_. How can you go wrong with a name like that?"

Lily rolled her eyes at him. "Roger, I'm thirty. I can't go out to clubs anymore."

"It's Friday night, Lil. And if it makes you feel better I'm thirty-three and I go to clubs all the time."

"Vince," she wined.

"Hey, I think you should go. We're just going to stay home and play go fish." He shuffled out the cards into two neat stacks.

She let out a groan. "I have to go, don't I?" She looked at Roger.

He nodded pensively. "Don't make this any harder than it has to be."

"Why? Why are you doing this?"

"Vince said you're a tight ass."

"I didn't say that, you did!" Vince cried defensively.

"I am not a tight-" She looked at Nick. "Butt."

Roger shrugged. "I'm just repeating what I've heard. You coming?"

"Rog," she grumbled. "I don't want to."

"When was the last time you had any fun? That you went out?"

She shrugged. "I don't know."

"Ten years ago, I guarantee it."

"What, the last time we went out?"

Roger nodded, draping an arm around her shoulders. "You remember."

"Because I couldn't possibly have fun without Roger, right?" She rolled her eyes at Vince.

"Exactly, so are we going? They do a killer version of _Crazy_."

"A band called _Flagrant Debauchery_ covered a Patsy Cline song?" she asked incredulously.

"It's awesome, see, I knew that would get you."

She looked at Vince. "Are you sure you want to leave me alone with him?"

Vince grinned at his longtime friend. "Oh, he's harmless. You're too old for him anyway."

Lily ran upstairs to change, leaving the guys in the kitchen.

"You been practicing?" Roger asked Nick, rustling his big hand through his hair.

"Yeah," Nick said.

"You got that scale down?" Roger slumped into a chair across from Vince.

Nick picked up his cards and looked them over carefully. "Yeah, I practiced a little."

"He practices all the time," Vince said, his eyes shining with pride.

"Vince," Nick glared at him, kicking him under the table.

"I'm afraid we have a mini Roger Harrington in the making."

"You gotta stay cool, kid. Always pretend you don't give a sh- crap," he said, stumbling over the word. He looked up at Vince for congratulations on not swearing. Vince just rolled his eyes at him.

"Don't tell him that, Lily's gonna think it's my fault." Vince kicked Roger under the table.

"You guys are so immature," Nick said, shaking his head sadly.

"That's bad, when a nine year old says you're immature," Lily said from the doorway. She had changed into a tight T-shirt and jeans that clung to her hips and thighs like a second skin.

"Oh no, little lady, you turn right around and go back upstairs and change. You are not leaving this house looking like that," Vince ordered, his eyes lingering on the gentle swell of her hips beneath the brushed denim.

"You're not my dad." She pouted and held out her hand. "Come on Rog, let's blow this joint."

"You look pretty mom," Nick said. He climbed out of his seat to give her a kiss and Vince peeked at his cards. "Hey!" he screamed, scrambling to get back into his seat. "You cheated!"

"You guys aren't playing go fish!" Lily noticed the layout of the cards. "You're playing poker! He's too young for poker, Vince!"

Vince made a growling noise in his throat. "Get her out of here."

Roger grinned, giving Lily an appreciative once over. "My pleasure."

"Rog!" Vince yelled as they left the room. "Don't be out to late!"

"Okay Mom!" Lily and Roger yelled in unison.

Roger opened the car door for her and then climbed in the driver's side. "You remember when we used to go out?"

"God, how could I forget. One time I had to drag you up four flights of stairs." Lily pulled on her seat belt.

"I had bruises all over my back and my head."

"What was I supposed to do? You out weigh me by at least a hundred pounds!"

"A hundred pounds?" He looked over at her. "A hundred pounds, I don't weigh that much," he grumbled.

"Roger, I'm five foot four. You're six foot three. Did you really think I could throw you over my shoulder and carry you?"

"You could have left my ass in the street."

Lily glanced over at him. The car was dark, but she could make out his profile in the streetlights that lined her neighborhood. "Are you going to tell me how I screwed up by not telling Vince about Nick?" she asked wearily. "Because Brian beat you to it and I really don't want to hear it again."

"Lily, you over-estimate me. This is Roger, I'm still the same good for nothing, let's get drunk and party, womanizer that you know and love." He shot a grin at her. "Besides, who am I to judge you? I always knew that you left for a good reason, whatever it was. I wasn't ever mad at you."

"But Vince was," she stated. She kept her eyes straight on the road.

"Yeah, of course he was. It was easier for me because I was in a more objective place. And I'm going to tell you this and if you ever repeat it I'll deny it and then I'm going to beat the crap out of you, okay?"

She smiled warily. "Okay."

"I think you did the right thing."

Her head whipped around to face him. "What?" she couldn't believe the words had come from Vince's best friend's mouth.

Roger shrugged; his face was serious as he watched the road. He flipped on his signal and merged on to the highway before he spoke again.

"Vince wasn't ready to be a father back then. He loved you so much he probably would have tried, but I think both of you would have ended up so resentful of each other that it would never have worked and Nick still wouldn't have had a father. At least now they can build a relationship from a good place. Anyway, you can't change the past so there's no point in fretting about it, right?"

"Right."

"And everyone has what they want now. Vince has a career; you went to art school and are working in a field you like. And now that we're about to break up, Vince will have nothing but time to perfect Nick's rocket of an arm into the next great cornerback."

Lily laughed. "He told you about that, huh?"

"In great detail. Apparently you robbed Nick's genetic pool of any athletic ability."

Lily sat back in her seat, Roger's words running through her head over and over. It was an incredible example of timing. Ten years later, when each of them had attained everything they wanted, when Vince was on the brink of freedom, she bumped into him in a recording studio. It was so perfectly orchestrated. She couldn't help but hope; maybe fate was giving them a second chance, letting them try a second time around when they were both older and wiser.

They got into the city a little after eleven. Roger had driven about a hundred miles an hour the whole trip and Lily had to scrape herself off the back of the seat before she could get out. The club was dark and hideously loud, she clung to Roger's arm, wondering what had possessed her to go with him, following him as he shouted and greeted people. Her dragged her to the bar, shielding her from the masses with his body.

"You want a drink?" he yelled over the noise.

She shook her head with disgust. This place was awful, it smelled, it was dirty, there were too many people crowded into too small a place. She wanted to leave, she need fresh air, need space.

"Two shots of Wild Turkey!" Roger screamed at the bartender.

"I hope those are both for you!" Lily said, holding onto his shirt as a man crashed into her. This was the worst idea she had ever had.

The bartender brought two shot glasses and a bottle of Wild Turkey. It was obvious Roger was a frequent customer. He asked when the band was starting and the man told him a few minutes. He poured two shots and handed her one.

"For old times sake, I won't ever tell, I promise." He held up his glass. "It'll make this place seem a little less awful."

The shot felt like fire going down, she could feel heat spreading outwards from her chest into her extremities. "Ugh!" she yelled as soon as she got her voice back. "That's disgusting!"

"Another one, real quick. This will be better."

She didn't know what she was doing, but something possessed her to drink it. She slammed the shot glass down on the bar, making a face and shivering. Suddenly the lights went out and the crowd roared.

From the back of the club came a piercing guitar riff, followed shortly by the loudest drums she had ever heard. The noise pulsed; she could feel her eardrums throbbing in time with the music. The lights came up on the stage. Four dirty punk kids were playing with everything they had, pounding on their instruments, dragging out every last decibel, ripping it from the strings and the drumheads. The lead singer had spiky black hair and wore ripped up army pants covered with safety pins and a black mesh T-shirt. And suddenly she was seventeen again, the noise faded, the music formed and became whole. The experience was complete. She glanced up at Roger; his eyes were glued on the stage.

"Those are my guys," he leaned over so he could shout in her ear. "I'm producing their first album."

She looked up at him and felt tenderness in her heart. Maybe his words in the car were more an apology, a thank you. She knew it was something Roger wasn't good at. Maybe he was telling her that he was happy now, thanking her for letting Gunslinger pursue their dream, together, for not pulling them apart. He had a passion now. The Roger she had known was always trying to bury something, to forget something left over from his childhood, pain that had been inflicted by his father. It had always been there, in his eyes. And now it wasn't, as he watched the band perform there was nothing but pride and admiration.

Chapter 10

Vince paced the front of the living room for what seemed like the millionth time that night. Nick had gone to bed at eleven after beating Vince at almost every hand of poker and eating his own weight in junk food. Vince had to practically tie him to the bedpost to get him to go to sleep. It was now going on three in the morning and there was no sign of Roger and Lily. He kept reminding himself that they were at a late night club two hours away and he knew Roger well enough that he wouldn't drink and drive. None of them did after Tommy died, but it didn't ease the knot of anxiety that was eating away at his stomach.

Headlights slashed across the living room through the front window and he pulled back the curtains to look outside.

He flung open the front door just as Roger reached the porch with Lily flung over his shoulder.

"She was singing her little heart out to some old AC/DC on the way home, but she passed out during the guitar solo."

"How much did she drink?" Vince followed him into the living room.

"Not that much. She doesn't have much of a tolerance." He looked around the living room. "Where do you want her?"

"The couch."

Roger dumped her unceremoniously onto the over stuffed couch.

"Are you sure she's okay?"

"Vince, she had three shots and two beers. That's it, I swear." He held up his hands.

"Did she have a good time?"

Roger smiled. "Yeah. At first I could tell she hated it, but as soon as the band came out she loved it."

"I was worried."

"You guys are switching personalities." Roger sobered and looked up at him. "What are you doing, Vince?"

He looked away; he couldn't look into his friend's eyes without feeling guilt.

"You driving back tonight?" Vince asked, changing the subject.

"Naw, I got a little girl waiting for me in Hartford," he said with a grin. "I got the vocal track you did on Wednesday, it's perfect. When it's all put together I'll send it out to you."

They said goodbye in the driveway and Vince closed and locked the door before carrying Lily upstairs. She smelled awful, like beer and cigarettes and moldy wood. He couldn't imagine what she had done there. All he could picture was her clutching her purse while drunken teenagers spilled beer all over her. Roger had suggested it when he had gone into the studio the past Wednesday, that maybe she just need to be reminded what she used to be like, that a night out might be good for her. Vince had the feeling Roger really just wanted to show off the latest band he had discovered. Lily had always been a good critic and she and Roger had often gone out to check out new bands on the scene in LA.

He lay her down on the bed, tugging off her shirt and then pulling off her jeans. She wore a cocoa colored silk lingerie set and he let his hands slid around her back to unclasp her bra, letting her milky breasts spill from the cups. He sat besides her, resting his hand on the curve of her hip. She looked like an angel, her pale skin so soft, the lush curves of her body. Her lashes spread out across her cheek like fans, her full lips like a budding rose.

He pulled the sheets back and gently lifted her and laid her back down. He knelt on the side of the bed.

Her fingers curled into his shirt. "Don't go," she murmured without opening her eyes.

He felt an overwhelming tenderness swell in his heart. He was leaving soon, in three weeks. It had seemed like a perfect natural break. He would end things, cut her off the way that she had cut him off. But what he hadn't counted on was easy it was to be near her, how quickly his feelings had come back to him. He thought one last time would be all he needed to get her out of his system, but once wasn't enough. Not even three or four times. _Maybe you'll never get enough of her._ He shook his head. No, this was it. This summer was the time he had given himself, time to forget her, time to let her go. After the tour he would go back to North Carolina and Nick would be shuffled back and forth from state to state, parent to parent. He swallowed the guilty lump that had risen in his throat as he brushed back a few strands of hair from her forehead. He uncoiled her fingers from the fabric of his shirt and lay her hand down on the bed. He closed the door behind him.

"What's wrong with you, mom?" Nick asked from the bathroom door, he looked thoroughly disgusted with her.

"I'm sick." Lily had her arms wrapped around the toilet seat and her head resting on her forearm. Her skin was paler than usual and there were dark circles beneath her eyes.

"Looks like someone had a little too much fun last night," Vince said cheerfully, appearing in the doorway behind Nick. He held a glass of ice water. "You know, most of the symptoms of a hangover are really just dehydration." He handed her the glass and emptied two Advil pills into her other hand. "Drink up, you'll feel better."

"I hate Roger," she said, popping the pills into her mouth and gulping the water down. "I'm going to kick him the next time I see him."

"It's not Roger's fault," Vince said, sitting down beside her on the edge of the bathtub.

"Yes it is." Lily let out a groan and winced as the sound reached her ears. "How much did I drink?"

"Roger said you only had a couple of shots and some beer. He said you had a good time though."  
"Oh really?" Her stomach heaved at the mention of alcohol. "Cause I feel like a drank an oil tanker full of Wild Turkey."  
"You were drinking Wild Turkey?"  
"I was with Roger!" she protested. "It was your stupid idea! I didn't even want to go! This is all your fault!"

"Well, you had fun right?"

She shrugged mournfully. "I don't remember."

"You don't remember dancing on the bar topless?"  
"What?!" she shrieked.

Vince couldn't stop himself from laughing.

"You ass," Lily mumbled. "I think I'm going to throw up again."

"Gross!" Nick shouted from down the hall.

"Hey Nick! You want some breakfast?" Vince yelled to him. "Maybe some eggs? Soft scrambled so they're all gooey and slimy?"

Lily glared at him from her position at the toilet, her stomach squeezing with each description. "I hate you."

"Umm, can we have some lumpy _Cream of Wheat_ too?" Nick asked, sticking his head in the doorway with a grin.

"I hate you both!" Lily yelled, giving Nick her best evil eye. "I'm going to send you both to live with my mother so she can teach you some manners!"

"There's no etiquette for people with hangovers," Vince said. "Anyway, you'll feel better when you're done. We're just trying to help."

"Yeah, I'm sure," she muttered as they left.

She rolled back against the wall. Her head felt like it was about to split open and her eyes felt like they were coated in sand. She had never felt so horrible in her whole life. What had ever possessed her to go with Roger? She got up, dragging herself to the sink where she splashed her face with cold water and refilled the glass Vince had brought her. She brought it back to her bedroom where she climbed back into bed and pulled the blanket up over her head.

On Monday Lily called her mother to say that yes, Nick did want to go to the Vineyard with them. Her mother's tone was icy and she could feel her anger pulsating through the phone.

"Mom, please don't be upset," Lily finally said. "I'm sorry about last week."

"Well, you ought to be." Eleanor punctuated the sentence with a short sound in her throat that she only made when she was really upset.

Lily twisted the phone cord between her fingers as she studied the sketches littered across the desk in front of her. Her patience was running out with her mother. "But mom, you can't have people spying on me. I'm thirty years old!"

"So, you're all alone in that house! What if something happened to you?"

"Nick is old enough to know what to do." She got out a pen and started doodling on her blotter. "Besides, Vince is there."

"You know Lily, I wanted to talk to you about that. Since Vince has re-appeared in your life you haven't called me, we haven't seen you and Nick-"

"I've been busy, mom." She rolled her eyes and leaned back in her chair.

"Well, I suppose once Vincent leaves that everything will be back to normal."

Eleanor said it more as a statement than a question, but before Lily's better judgment shut her mouth, the words tumbled out. "No, mom. I don't think things will ever be back to normal. Nick has a father now and I expect he'll be spending time with him over the summer and holidays and school breaks."

There was icy silence on the other end of the line. "We'll be there to pick Nick up at One o'clock on Wednesday." And the line went dead.

"Mom!" Nick screamed from the top of the stairs.

"What?" She asked, standing at the bottom, looking slightly perturbed at her son's outburst.

"Where's my sailing hat?" He stuck his lower lip out in a pout.

"Sailing hat," Vince grumbled from the couch where he was reading the paper. "Christ."

"It's in the top drawer of your dresser," Lily said, ignoring Vince.

"No it's not!" Nick whined. "I already looked."

"Nicholas, could you please not whine," Lily said with exasperation, mounting the steps. After digging the hat out of the top drawer of Nick's dresser she went through the two bags he had packed for the trip to Martha's Vineyard and pulled out the half a dozen Lego sets and trucks he had filled one bag with and re-packed it.

"Are they here yet?" Nick was yelling running up and down the hallway.

Lily watched warily as the paintings on the hall wall shook under Nick's footsteps. "They'll be here in forty-five minutes."

"Forty-five minutes!" Nick cried in agony.

"Christ he wasn't even this excited to meet me," Vince said with an arched eyebrow. "And I'm a rock star." He had come upstairs and put his hands on Nick's shoulders to stop him from jumping and running. "Maybe we should get him some Ritalin."

"Ritalin!" Nick screeched.

"God almighty," Vince said. He shook his head sadly as he led Nick down the steps, mumbling something about tying him to a chair.

Lily gathered the rest of his things and packed them into his backpack along with some books and games. She lugged the bags down the steps into the front hallway and left them by the door. She went into the living room where Vince was still reading the paper with his legs holding Nick down on the couch. Nick was flailing and struggling to get out from beneath his legs to no avail.

"Mom!" Nick yelled again, trying to lift Vince's right leg.

Half an hour later they were standing in the driveway, waving goodbye as her parent's Lincoln Towncar pulled away.

Lily let out a breath she hadn't been aware she was holding. "My God, does that child love sailing."

"Apparently," Vince said.

"My mother sits in the shade all day drinking scotch while my dad and Nick go sailing."

"Sounds like fun to me," Vince said sarcastically as they trudged back across the yard.

"I think she's a little mad at me," Lily said following him inside the house.

"Yup, I'd say so."

"Vince?"

"Yeah?"

"What's wrong?" Lily asked. She poured a glass of lemonade for herself and then offered Vince the pitcher.

He shrugged. "Nothing."

"You're giving me short answers."

"So?"

"See?"

"See what?"

"Stop it!" Lily yelled.

"I'm not giving you short answers."

Lily took her lemonade and sat down at the kitchen table. "Vince, you forget how well I know you."

"What?" He shrugged, trying to look innocent.

She shook her head and let out a deep sigh. "Fine, forget it."

They sat in silence for a long time, both to stubborn to give in.

"Well," Vince stood up. "I guess I should probably go."

"Go?" she asked. "Go where?"

There was along pause before he spoke. "New York. I figured since Nick was going to be gone-" he trailed off.

"Oh, okay," she nodded, trying to keep her emotions under her thumb. Her chest ached as if he had struck her. "Of course."

"Unless you wanted me to stay?" he asked awkwardly.

"No, if you need to go, by all means."

"Lily," he started, but he didn't finish. He rose from the table and she heard him on the steps.

She rested her head in her hands, feeling her pulse through the vein in her temple. The pain was numbing, they had spent a two weeks together, Vince sneaking into her room after Nick was in bed, stealing kisses when he wasn't looking, laughing like they used to. It obviously didn't mean anything to him, and she hated to admit how much it meant to her. The house seemed so big and empty, too many rooms, too much open space. Everywhere else families settled down for lunch, families with a mother and a father. But not here. She closed her eyes and took a long, deep breath, trying to calm her nerves. _You knew this would happen, you went into this with your eyes open,_ a voice in her head reminded her. How could she be upset? How could she be angry with him? She had known this would happen, that this was how it would end. _I'm just not ready for it to end yet._

She got up from the table and left her glass in the sink. She made her way upstairs slowly and found Vince in his room gathering up his things.

"Vince?" she asked.

He turned his head slowly, his eyes were sad, filled with the same longing she felt. "Don't go."

The words hung unclaimed in the air between them. Lily wished she could snatch them back and swallow them.

Vince could see the vulnerability in her eyes, the questions. "What are we doing Lily?" he asked softly. He wanted her to turn away, to end it herself before he got in over his head.

"I don't care," she said. "I just don't want you to go." _Yet,_ she added silently, forcing herself to remember that in the end that was what it was, _I don't want you to go yet._

"You want to go away? Take a few days off and we'll go to the beach?" He stopped packing and sat down on the corner of the bed.

She nodded. She didn't want to talk, didn't want to lay any more of herself out on the line. "I'd like that," she said thickly, licking her lips.

"Stop being so serious and come here."

"I'm not being serious," Lily said, sinking down onto the bed beside him, rattled.

"Yes you are, you look worried. I don't want to go to the beach with a worrier."

She smiled weakly. "I'm not a worrier."

Vince snorted. "Where you wanna go?"

"You're house. I want to see your house."

Chapter 11

The drive to the Outer Banks from the Charlotte airport took several hours. They had been met at the gate by Manny, who Vince explained watched the house while he was gone. As the city faded away Lily felt an odd sense of lounging, Vince was beside her, his arm draped casually around her shoulders, but she wanted to be closer to him, to bury herself in him. She snuggled into his chest, letting her eyes drift closed.

The car hit a bump and Lily woke with a start, not sure how long she had slept. The landscape was scraggily, sandy, with long brown grasses that grew from the sand dunes. "Are we almost there?" She asked, glancing up at Vince.

He was staring down at her, his eyes soft, sentimental. "You're beautiful," he said, brushing a lock of hair from her eyes.

She laid her head back against his chest, enjoying the feel of him, the closeness.

"I didn't ever think we would ever be like this again," Vince said gently.

She closed her eyes against the wave of pain and joy the words caused. Joy because this was what she had wanted from the moment she had left him; pain because this was her doing. All the hurt in his heart, was her doing.

They arrived at the house in the late afternoon. Vince guided Lily to the bedroom, and they each slowly undressed. Her body felt like fire as she slid between the crisp cotton sheets, the golden sunlight spilled through windows, casting shadows and painting the floor with gold. They made love slowly, carefully. They were quiet, moving together, clinging to each other. And when it was over they lay in silence for a long time. Lily got up first, wrapping a robe around her shoulders as she went to investigate the house.

It was surprisingly small and simple. A low A frame, with a wide, long porch that stuck off the front out onto the beach. Inside the door the kitchen was to the right, divided from the living room by a long counter. The room was sparse, large, with dark wood beams. The furniture in the living room was white and simple. Two couches formed a square with the opposite walls. A large screen TV occupied one corner and a fireplace was located across from the larger couch. A low glass coffee table sat between the couch and the fireplace. Behind the Living room was Vince's office, and between the office and the bedroom was the spacious bathroom.

Lily wandered into the living room. The mantel of the fireplace was littered with picture frames. There was a picture of Tommy and Roger, and the picture they had taken of Brian on the toilet. There were pictures of gigs and record producers and them accepting platinum records, and there was a picture of Vince's parents.

"I have to get some pictures of Nick to put up there," Vince said, coming into the room and settling on a stool in the kitchen.

"How are your parents?" Lily asked, holding the picture of the older couple.

"Good, they're living in a condo in Florida. My mom clips coupons and sends them to me. She's really worried I'm pissing my money away on cars and houses." He grinned.

She replaced the picture and continued. "This is Brian's wedding?" she asked, spotting a picture of Roger, Brian and Vince, all looking very unhappy. Roger looked like his bow tie was choking him; he had his fingers pulling at the collar of the shirt.

"Yeah," Vince said. "I think there's a picture of Gracie up there too."

She found the picture of Brian and a pretty brunette. "She looks nice."

Vince shrugged.

As she put the frame back, she spotted a picture of her and Vince. She took it down and studied it. "I can't believe you still have this," she said.

Vince got up and looked at the picture over her shoulder. "That picture has been in every house I've ever lived in. It's the only one I didn't rip up or burn."

"We look so young," Lily commented. She could feel him behind her, longed for him to touch her. But he moved back to the kitchen area.

"Hungry?" he asked, changing the subject.

"Mmm, yes." Lily replaced the picture and settled on a stool across the counter from where he stood.

"What do you want?"

"I can make something."

"I went to cooking school," Vince said with a boyish smile.

She shook her head. "I still can't picture you in cooking school. Why'd you go?"

He shrugged. "After Ava and I split up, I realized I couldn't take care of myself. My whole life someone was always taking care of me, my mother, you, record executives, hotel's, personal assistants, and then Ava. She didn't cook, but she stayed on top of stuff like that. She had a personal chef so she could stay this skinny," he said holding up his pinkie finger. "But he left with her. Anyway, after three stove fires and two weeks of frozen dinners and take out, I decided I was going to learn how to be self-sufficient. So I went to cooking school."

She reached out and caressed his hand with her fingertips, ignoring the pang that his ex-wife's name made in her heart. "You've changed a lot."

"I thought you said I hadn't changed."

"There's something about you that always surprises me. Something that is just good and honest and caring. You don't expect it, but it's always been there. And that hasn't changed. I guess it's just that you grew up."

"We all have to grow up," Vince said, his voice low.

"Not Roger," Lily responded with a weak smile.

"Roger's grown up."

"No, he hasn't. He still goes to clubs and he still picks on Brian just like he used to."

"Are you still mad at Roger for that hangover?" Vince asked. "Besides, he's not picking on Brian. Don't be petty." He opened the fridge and stood with his back to her, perusing the contents.

"He was picking on him, Vince. I love Roger, but he shouldn't be airing out Brian's laundry like that."

"Roger was trying to get you to talk to Brian about his marriage because he won't talk to us about it." Vince turned around with and an armload of food and dumped it on the counter.

Lily squinted at him. "Roger told you that?"

"No, but I know that's what he's doing." Vince pulled out a package of chicken breasts and slit through the plastic with a knife.

"That doesn't sound like the Roger I know," Lily said.

"Roger takes responsibility for anyone he cares about, tries to do anything he can to help them. He just doesn't want anyone to know it."

"Did you take psychology classes too?" Lily asked her voice a little sharper than she had meant it.

"Why are you so pissed off at Roger?"

"I'm not pissed off at Roger." She wished she hadn't brought the subject up.

"Roger's a good guy, he just makes it hard for people to see it."

"I know, but I still don't think Roger's 'grown up'."

"Roger happens to be quite a savvy businessman. There is quite a buzz around _Flagrant Debauchery_. And a lot of his other bands are doing well. He's got his own label."

"And Brian?"

Vince let out a sigh, slicing through the broccoli florets with precision. "Brian is slipping away. He doesn't want to do this anymore. I don't know if he ever wanted to do it. I think Brian just liked being a part of something, part of us. Even in LA, he didn't care about booze or drugs or girls, he just liked to play. And now he doesn't anymore."

"He seemed distant when I talked to him. He never mentioned problems in his marriage and when I brought it up the other day, he sort of breezed over it."

"He let's people walk all over him and he builds up so much resentment, but you never see it. Gracie just happens to be in the middle of it."

"I feel like I know them so well, but I don't anymore. Not even you," Lily said quietly.

"We spend too much time talking about the past," Vince said. "Tell me about your job."

They spent dinner talking about Lily's career, who she had worked for, what ad campaigns she had done. Vince saw a sparkle in her eyes that he hadn't seen in a long time. When he asked her if she still painted at all, she sheepishly admitted that she didn't.

"Speaking of which, what are you going to put on the cover of your greatest hit's album?" she asked.

"Why, you got a painting for it?"

"No, of course not," Lily said, shaking her head.

"We were thinking about that picture of Brian taking a crap."

Lily paled. "Are you serious?"

Vince laughed at her reaction. "Out of all the cover's we had, it would probably be the tamest, so I don't know why you're looking at me like that."

"You can't have a picture of somebody going to the bathroom," Lily said incredulously.

"It's blue, it's got the little Gunslinger logo and that's it."

Lily wrinkled her nose. The expression brought a lump of fear to Vince's chest. He couldn't imagine losing her, not again. But more important, he was afraid of losing this Lily, the Lily that laughed with him, joked with him. And more than anything he was afraid they would go back to Connecticut and to Nick and everything would go back to the way it was, leaving him with fresh wounds and fresh memories. God, he still loved her as much as the day they had driven out of New York and toward California. He loved her as much as when they would lie on the floor in the living room and talk about what they would do when they struck it rich. He had to stop thinking like this, he had to stop these feelings, shut them out, ignore them.

"You want to go for a walk on the beach?" Vince asked suddenly.

"Sure," Lily said.

She took his hand as they started walking along the sand.

"I don't think I've held anyone's hand since the eighty-nine Grammy's when Tommy was too drunk to walk straight and I had to lead him up to the stage." Vince laughed at the memory.

Lily smiled at the memory. "I saw that."

"You did?" Vince asked, surprised.

"I always watched stuff like that. I haven't held anyone's hand, except Nick's in ten years."

"Well, that makes me feel like less like a loser. Especially since the hand I did hold six years ago was a guy's." Vince slowed. "Hey, you remember how we used to talk about going to Aruba and doing it on the beach?"

"Yeah," Lily said hesitantly.

"What?"

She wrinkled her nose up. "Doing it just sounds so... juvenile."

Vince made a face at her. "What, you want me to say screwing?"

She looked shocked. "No! That's even worse. I like making love. If you have to, you say having sex."

"Okay, Eleanor."

She punched him on the upper arm. "My mother doesn't use any of those words because she doesn't have sex or talk about it."

Vince let out a long, impatient sigh. "You want to ' _make love'_ on the beach or not?"

She had the grace to look sheepish. "Sorry, yes I do."

He grinned. "Yes, you do want to _do it_?"

"You're ruining whatever romance there was."

"Better to do it now, because pretty soon you're going to have sand up your butt and I don't see anything romantic about that."

She swung another light punch at him, but instead he caught her in his arms and gathered her against him, kissing her slowly and deliberately.

Later that night Lily lay beside him in the low wooden bed. She was curled into him, her hand across his chest. He let his fingers drift through the silk of her hair. More than anything he wanted to suspend this moment, freeze it in time so that he could always come back to it. Come back to laying beside the woman he loved, her body hot and still, exhausted from making love to him. Her hair was like silk, smelling clean and fresh. Her thick lashes fanned out across her cheek, her dark hair contrasting with the pale peach of her skin. She had soft, white triangles of skin on her breasts from her bikini top and a similar triangle at the apex of her thighs. The skin was so white it seemed to glow against the rest of her, pale, vulnerable. He let his hand slide down the curve of her back, the thin column of her spine to the tailbone where it blossomed. She stirred against him as his hand roamed, burying her face in his shoulder, and he could feel her soft breath against his flesh.

It was almost too much to bear, this nearness, this intimacy. Here, alone, separated from everything and everyone, they could be happy. But what happened when they went back? What happened when he left for the tour? The thought held no appeal. His heart seemed to pound a little harder at the thought of spending the rest of his life alone in his bed, haunted by memories of her.

Two weeks, Lily thought. She had brought a book with her down to the beach but found herself reading the same section again and again while her mind wandered back to the persistent thought that in two weeks, Vince would be gone. They still hadn't spoken about what would happen when he left, what would happen to them, what would happen with Nick. She set the book down and lay back in her beach chair, letting the sun beat down on her face.

Vince was inside on the phone, his manager had finally tracked him down and Vince had spent the morning pacing through the house on the phone. Lily had finally taken the book out of her suitcase and a chair from the side of the house and settled with her feet in the sand. The past two days had been the best of her life; she had let her mind go, freed herself of all the thoughts that generally occupied so much of her energy, so much of herself. She let herself be, she felt free, freer than she felt in a long time.

"Lily," Vince's voice was firm, cold. She turned and caught sight of him walking towards her. "I have to get back to New York tonight."

"Is everything okay?" she asked.

"Everything's fine. I just have to go. I got you a plane ticket to Hartford and arranged for a car to pick you up. I'm flying to JFK."

"What's going on?" Her brows knit together in confusion.

"I can't keep screwing around Lily. That's what. There's a lot of stuff I didn't deal with over the summer, the tour, the album, promotions. I have to get stuff taken care of before we leave."

"Oh." She didn't know what to say. It was as if he was another person, as if someone else had been caught in his body. His eyes were cold, his mouth a thin, grim line. She gathered her book and towel, following him up to the house.

"Get your stuff together, we have a plane to catch."

"And then, we saw this huge fish, I think it was a whale!" Nick cried, straining against the confines of his seatbelt.

"Really?" Lily asked.

He nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, it was gigantic!"

"Gigantic?" she asked, glancing over at her son. His skin was bronze from the hours in the sun, his blond hair streaked with platinum. "So you had a good time?"

"It was awesome! Grandpa let me put the jig up and I got to hold the rope and..."

Lily found her mind wandering as Nick rambled on. She and Vince had left North Carolina the day before and he flown directly to New York for rehearsals. The house was empty with out Nick, and perhaps more so without Vince. She didn't realize how dependent she had become on his presence and it frightened her. He had been so cold on the drive to the airport. He had opted to sit in the front with Manny, leaving her alone in the backseat. She had spent the drive staring out the window, absently listening to the two men chat about the weather. At the gate he didn't give her so much as a peck on the check. She felt distant from him, and when he had boarded his plane she had been relieved. The tension had been too much for her. The uncertainty was driving her crazy. But last night, while she lay awake in bed, she missed him more than she ever had. The clean scent of him, the warmth of his skin, his limbs tangled with hers. The way he held her while she lay beside him. And she had hated herself for letting him get her like that. Hated how he could treat her so badly and she still craved him, still dreamed about him. She had woken up this morning feeling exhausted and hollow. In one sense she wanted to be relieved, wanted to be happy he was going. Happy he was cutting any loose edges left behind so things could go back to normal. But she knew she was being stupid if she really believed that. Things would never go back to normal; it was just something she told herself so she didn't have to acknowledge she had never felt so alone.

"Mom! Are you even listening to me?" Nick said.

"Yes, honey, I am." She said, struggling to bring herself back to the present.

"Vince! Come on man! Focus!" Roger said, his voice peppered with annoyance. "We're all happy that you're getting laid dude, but we got a tour date in _two weeks_."

Brian shifted his weight from foot to foot. "Come on Vince, I wanna get done with this."

"What?" Vince snapped. "What am I doing?"

"You can't remember the words to your own songs," Roger muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I can too." Vince took a sip of water from his plastic bottle. "I'm just..."

"Distracted," Brian finished for him with a deep sigh.

"Do we have to practice?" Zack wined from the drum set. He had a bottle of whisky tucked under his seat and had grown progressively drunker during the course of the rehearsal.

"Apparently," Roger said, shaking his head. "Jesus Christ," he muttered under his breath.

"Can we take a break?" Vince snapped.

"Isn't that what we've been doing for the past four hours?" Roger snapped, yanking his guitar over his head. "You need to get your shit together Vince. We're all real happy for you and Lily," his voice was dripping with sarcasm. "But I'm about done working around your schedule so you can screw around and come to practice whenever you feel like it without knowing the words to songs you've been singing for fifteen goddamn years."

"Rog," Vince started. "Nothing is going on-"

"You are going to throw away all of this," he motioned around the room. "For what? A girl. You were a sucker ten years ago when she left you, and you're gonna be a sucker this time around too."

Vince exhaled sharply. "I'm not a sucker." He knew Roger was only saying it because he knew it would hurt the most, but it didn't make it any easier to hear.On Wednesday Chris Young had tracked him down and started hounding him about rehearsing and how production was held up because of Tommy's song that they had recorded. He had spent a few hours on the phone, trying to figure out how to sedate Chris and Roger, who was furious, please the record company that was pissed off because they were so behind on schedule that the album would have to be released after the tour started. He hated to do it, but he had to get on a plane and get back to New York. He had been putting everything else in front of the band and he couldn't keep it up. He was cutting things too short. He hadn't meant to be so mean to Lily, he was just frustrated and she was the only one to absorb it. He had been pulled back into reality kicking and screaming and he had taken it out on her. The summer had seemed like a fantasy, that after so many years of hard work, he had been able to lose himself, three months without a worry. Three months with his son. Three months with Lily. Three months of bliss. He hated this, hated having to deal with reality. It ruined the illusion; it made him realize that in the end, this was it.

Lily had withdrawn; he could feel her distancing herself from him. Pulling away. Because he had acted like an ass. But he couldn't keep his mind off her. Watching her silently pulling away from him. And as much as he hated to admit it, Roger was right. He had always been a sucker for her, back then and even now. He had started out thinking he would have the control to make it through this, to make her hurt the way she had made him hurt. But now he didn't want that anymore, now he just wanted her. He wanted a life, he wanted his family. He licked his lips. "Just stay out of it."

"I'm not going to stay out of it Vince! You're gone all summer so all the promotions and decisions fall on us, you leave for four days right in the middle of our freaking rehearsals which are already three weeks behind. What do we say? Fine. Whatever, just show up next week and be ready. And you're not! This is the last tour we will ever do together. This is it. You might want to remember that," Roger fumed.

"Why are you guys ganging up on me?" Vince yelled.

"Because you are screwing us up! Can't you see that?"

"What the hell do you want from me?" Vince screamed.

"Vince," Brian warned. "Come on, chill out."

Zack tossed his drumsticks onto the ground and got up. "I'm going to smoke a cigarette."

"Yeah, me too," Roger said, glaring at Vince. They disappeared outside.

"What the hell?" Vince said to Brian.

Brian shrugged. "I don't know. We just don't want to see you get hurt again."

"Why is everyone treating me like a kid? I can handle myself. I don't need you guys looking out for me."

"Maybe you do."

"What is this, you guys had a little meeting about me while I was away?"

Brian looked at the floor. "It's called rehearsing."

Vince shook his head. "Brian, what am I suppose to do?"

Brian swallowed hard. He set his bass against the wall and started speaking before he turned around. "I don't know Vince, you have to do what's right for you. But this is the last tour. This is for every fan that ever bought our album, came to a concert, bought merchandise, sang every word of every song back at us. I think we should kick ass much as as we can."

"And what? I'm not kicking ass?"

"No, you're not."

"Brian," Vince pleaded.

"I can't help you, Vince. You dug your own grave."

Chapter 13

"Vince?" Lily asked. She stood in the doorway of his room. He barely glanced up at her.

"Yeah, what?"

"Nothing," she said softly. "I was just wondering if you need anything."

"No thanks." He went back to shoving clothes into his suitcase.

"What's going on?"

He looked up at her suddenly, as if her presence surprised him. "What do you think? I'm packing."

Tears swelled in her eyes, but she fought them with everything she had. "What's going to happen after the tour?"

He shrugged. "I'll go back to North Carolina live out my existence and at some point I'll die. That's what going to happen after the tour."

"Why?"

"Why what?" He looked at her with forced patience.

"Why are you doing this?"

"Because we've built separate lives Lily. They can't co-exist anymore." He spat her words back at her with more venom than she expected.

"What did I do to you?" she cried, her voice filled with desperation.

"Kind of a silly question, don't you think?"

Her heart seemed to stop beating and the world was as silent as death. Cold flooded through her like ice and when her heart started beating again the sound was deafening, blocking out everything else.

There was a part of her knew this was coming, but it hadn't prepared her. And there was a part of her that had hoped that maybe they would both forget the things that held them apart, that maybe if they could hold on long enough that they would realize that all the rest of this was trivial. But she knew that part of her was the twenty-year old inside her, the twenty-year-old girl that thought love could fix anything, could mend anything. She should know better now. She was getting what she deserved. This was his way of getting back at her, at hurting her the same way she had hurt him.

She turned away, walking slowly back to her bedroom, dropping pieces of her broken heart behind her.

Vince felt her leave. He told himself he didn't care. He had to get out of here; he couldn't stand being in this room anymore. In this house. Roger and Brian's words played and replayed in his head. He was a sucker. Especially now. He had set out to teach her a lesson and he had fallen right back in love with her. No, he silently corrected himself. He didn't love her. He couldn't love her.

He got up from the bed, clearing the top of the dresser of his toiletries. It had been so long that he had forgotten the depth of his pain, in ten years it had softened. He didn't remember how empty he felt, how he thought he would die without her. He had to keep thinking like that, had to remember that. He swung his bag over his shoulder and brought it down to the car. Nick was out back with Joey, clinging to the last few days of summer and the sound of his laughter rang out in the cool, crisp air.

He stuffed his suitcases into the trunk of the BMW and closed the lid. The street was quiet, the neighborhood felt empty. A light breeze picked up the first of the fallen leaves and sent them swirling down through the street like migrating birds.

"Are you leaving?" Nick skidded to a stop. He had come running around the house and his face was flushed and he was out of breath.

"Yeah," Vince said. He wanted to say more, but he didn't know how or what. "Pretty soon."

Nick's gaze was steady. "Am I going to see you again?"

"Of course. You're going to see me all the time. You can even come and visit me on tour if you want." Vince leaned back against the car, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

"Are you ever going to be my dad? Like a real family?"

His heart squeezed at the answer he had to give him. "No, I don't think so."

Nick chewed his lower lip, fighting tears that threatened to spill across his cheeks. "I had fun with you."

"So did I."

Nick looked up at him, his wide, bright eyes shining and Vince could feel his heart breaking. He never wanted to see him hurt, never wanted to see him cry. Especially when he was at fault. He couldn't imagine being away from him. The pain ate away at his stomach.

"I love you," Nick whispered. A fat tear escaped and rolled down his cheek. He dashed at it with the back of his shirtsleeve.

"I love you too." Vince pulled him roughly against him. This was why he couldn't forgive Lily. This was what she had done, and had it been up to her, he would never have known this amazing child in front of him. He pulled away and knelt down, resting his arms on Nick's shoulders. "I'm not leaving because of you."

Nick kept his eyes down cast. "I know. You have to go on tour."

"It's like work."

Nick looked up. "And when you come back? Are you coming here?"

Vince let out a breath. "No. I'm going to my home. And you can come and visit me whenever you want. Next summer you can come for the whole time. We can go to the beach-"

"Nick! Come inside!" Lily yelled from the front door. She stood looking pale and drawn, wrapped in an old, cabled cardigan, her arms wrapped around her waist.

Nick looked at her, but didn't move. "I don't want you to go."

Vince bit his lip. "I don't really want to go."

"Can I come with you?"

Vince pulled him into his arms, squeezing him tight."You have to go back to school."

"Nick! Right now!" Lily snapped.

"I guess this is goodbye."

It seemed like an impossibly grown-up thing for him to say and Vince could barely stand how grown up he already was. The next time he saw him, he would almost be another year older.

"Your mom's coming, and she looks pissed," Vince whispered.

Nick smiled through his tears. "I guess I should go inside."

"I'm going to miss you," Vince said, hugging him again, when he pulled back this time, Nick was crying. "Keep practicing your guitar, okay? And be good for your mom. I'm going to call you all the time. And you're coming to visit me over your Christmas break, okay?"

Nick just nodded. "Bye," he managed through his tears. He turned and ran up to the house. Vince watched him go, feeling a growing a hole in his heart.

"You're leaving?" She asked, her tone was flat.

"What's the point of staying?"

She stood there, her arms wrapped around her waist. Her face was impassive. He was angry, angrier than he had even been when he first saw Nick, when he first realized that he had a son. Angrier because now he knew what he was missing. But it was a still sort of anger, a calm, rational anger that simmered beneath the surface.

"So now what?" she asked suddenly. "How is all of this going to work?" Her voice cracked, the first indication that she even cared he was leaving.

Vince shrugged. "We'll talk about it after I get back."

"What we had," she started to say, instantly regretting the words, afraid to look into his eyes, afraid he would see how vulnerable she felt, how cold.

"I can't trust you, Lily. I can't ever trust you again."

"You said you understood.".

"I lied,"

She wanted to slap him. "You are such a bastard. This was just an elaborate way of getting back at me?"

"Sucks, doesn't it."

"Fine, you made your point."

Vince grabbed her. "You want to know what the point is?" He shook her, but she wouldn't look at him, wouldn't acknowledge him. "The point is there is this beautiful little boy that belongs to me and you stole him from me. And I would never have known him if you had it your way. And that doesn't bother you. That's what hurts the most, that you can be so selfish that you don't even care."

"You can't hold this against me forever!" She yanked free of his hands.

"I don't have to because this is where our forever ends." The words came from his lips with conviction, but there was a part of him that was growing cold, dying. He could feel it and hurt more than he wanted to admit. He couldn't look at her; it hurt him too much. He felt none of the satisfaction he thought he would, just a hollow, dull anger. He had given himself the chance to forgive her and he couldn't. He couldn't forget what she had done to him, even if he wanted to he couldn't. He looked up and caught sight of Nick's face in the window.

"Look at him, Lil," he said softly, all of the anger gone from his voice. "You just wanted to keep him all to yourself."

"I thought maybe you could forgive me," she said without looking back at the house. "I thought you had."

"Well I didn't and I can't."

An image suddenly flashed before her eyes, Vince naked and tan, tangled in the white cotton sheets in North Carolina. He was smiling at her, kissing her fingertips. She grew cold inside, as she looked at this Vince, standing in front of her with his eyes hooded, dark and angry. He was so different, so wholly unlike the man she had loved and fallen back in love with. _You never stopped loving him,_ her mind countered. Maybe she hadn't. But this was the end, this was it. The finality sunk in with a chill like an ice bath. This was it, it was over. Those days in North Carolina that had meant so much to her were nothing more than a ploy in an elaborate revenge scheme. He wanted nothing more than to hurt her and deserved an Oscar for the performance he gave.

"I think you should go," she said, biting back tears.

"My sentiments exactly." He yanked open the door to the car and climbed in. Without looking back, he sped out of the driveway and down the road. Away from Connecticut, away from Nick, away from her. She closed her eyes against the well of pain that was threatening to take her over. Everything that she had clung to ten years ago had been ripped from her and she was left bare and vulnerable with nothing to help her rebuild her life with.

"Nick, drink your milk." Lily pushed her food around on her plate, she wasn't hungry, she didn't ever seem to be hungry anymore.

"No," Nick said.

"Excuse me?" She set down her fork and looked at him.

"I don't have to listen to you."

"I really don't need this right now, Nick."

The boy crossed his arms over his chest and looked sullen. "You made him leave."

She bit the inside of her lip. "No honey, Vince had to go away for the tour, I had nothing to do with that."

"You made him go away just like you did when I was little!" Nick shouted, jerking away from the table so forcefully that he spilled his milk.

"Nick!" She grabbed her napkin to blot up the spill and righted the glass. "Nick, I didn't make him go away!" Tears oozed up into her eyes. "I didn't want him to leave."

"What about when I was a baby?"

"What did he tell you?" Anger bubbled through her veins, after everything he had done to her, would he sink low enough to turn her son against her?

Nick thrust his chair back from the table and climbed out of his seat. "You just don't want me to have a father!"

"That's not true!" she cried, tears streamed down her cheeks. "Nick!

She watched as he ran from the room, heard him run up the stairs and slam the door behind him. She bit her lip, fighting tears. She thought that as time passed, as the days turned to weeks her pain would fade, she would forget how lonely her bed was, how empty the house was, how much she missed his voice, his laughter. And now Nick hated her. Her mother hated her. She had never felt so alone, so empty. Everything that she had built was crumbling; everything that she had wanted so badly paled in the face of what she had lost.

The leaves had all turned brown and fallen from the trees. Lily stood watching as the last few clung to the branches. Everything that had been born and beautiful in the spring was now dying, slowly drying until all the life had left it.

He had been gone six months. She and Nick had come to a sort of understanding. She had told him what she could about why she had done what she had and he had seemed to accept as much as he could. Her mother had called a few weeks later and acted as though nothing had happened and they had reached an uneasy alliance. Things were slowly returning to normal.

Lonely.

She shook herself. She was going to stop feeling sorry for herself. She wasn't going to stand at the window thinking about everything shriveling up and dying. She was going to think about spring. Everything that dies is reborn. Yeah, right, she thought wistfully.

Chapter 14

Vince watched as the world rolled by. In the early morning light the landscape was a monochromatic gray, mist clung to the treetops and hung like a heavy shroud from the branches. He hadn't been able to sleep; he hadn't in a long time. The tour was off to a good start; the song they had recorded as an unreleased track was steadily climbing the pop charts, a surprise that should have brought him joy but instead was met with apathy. The concerts had been sold out and he thought they had put on good shows. He poured everything he had left into them. It was the best way he could combat the guilt eating away at him. He talked to Nick every few days, sent him home packages from whatever city they were in. But he missed him. And as much as he hated to admit it, he missed her.

"Can't sleep?" Roger asked, settling in the seat across from him. Roger's face was smooth and sleepy, his hair tangled and in his face. He grabbed a handful and stuck it behind his ear. "I'm cutting it after the tour," he announced.

"You'll never cut your hair," Vince said with a weak smile. He turned his head to look out the window.

"You'll see, I'm going to _Snip and Cut_ just to spite Yves." Roger slouched down in the seat and propped his feet on the seat next to Vince. "You gonna miss this?"

Vince kept his eyes on the window. "Yeah."

"When we first started talking about breaking up I couldn't wait till it was all over. I just wanted to move on, next chapter. But now I'm sort of bummed."

"You're being sentimental again," Vince said with a wary smile.

"We must be getting old. You're getting corny and I'm getting sentimental."

"Happens to the best," Vince said vaguely.

Roger stared out the window for a long time before he spoke. "What do you think will happen to us?"

Vince shrugged.

"Zack will join a new band, Brian will go off with Gracie, you'll marry Lily and become a soccer dad."

Vince snorted. "I'm not going to marry Lily."

"The Vince I knew would say he wasn't going to be a soccer dad." Roger looked at him for a long minute before he glanced away. "I guess it doesn't matter. Everybody has to grow up sometime." He fumbled in the pocket of his sweatshirt for his cigarettes and shook one free from the pack.

"I'm not going anywhere Rog."

Roger shrugged non-chalantly, but his eyes told a different story. "You know this bus, it feels more like my home than any house I own. This and that crappy apartment we had when we first moved to LA. You guys are my family and it just bugs me that it's all over."

"It's not over, we'll see each other all the time."

Roger blew a stream of smoke up at the ceiling. "Forget it. I'm having a sentimental attack."

"We all get them sometimes.""I still can't believe you did that. None of us told you to do that. I might have said you were a sucker, but I didn't mean you should dump her."

"I didn't do it because of you." Vince didn't even blink at the change of subject; he knew immediately what they were talking about. "What the hell am I supposed to do? I can't forgive her."

Roger shrugged and turned his eyes to the fields of Iowa rolling by. "You have to. The past is the past."

"But it's not. She never tried to contact me, she never felt any guilt-"

"You trying to convince me or yourself?"

"Christ, what the hell do you want from me? I'm not a saint."

"I want you to be happy."

Vince swallowed. He felt hollow, empty. He had become numb; he couldn't possibly feel everything coursing through him. But he felt that. "When the hell did you get so smart?" he snapped.

"I've had to put up with you sulking and mopping for six months and I'm sick of it. That's why I'm saying this. Put yourself out of misery, either call her or shoot yourself."

"And here I thought you cared," Vince responded dryly.

Roger blew smoke at him. "I don't believe in soul mates or any of that crap, but this is ridicules."

Vince rolled his eyes at him. "You make me sound so corny."

"Didn't I just say you were corny?"

"I'm not the one talking about soul mates."

Roger glared at him. "Punk."

"Wimp," Vince snapped.

"At least I don't forget my friends any time I see a hot piece of ass."

"Lily is not a hot-" Vince shut his mouth.

"See," Roger said, his tone serious. "You're no fun anymore." His eyes betrayed him; they were hurt, dark.

Vince quieted, for the first time feeling the damage he had done by ignoring the band over the summer. "I'm sorry bro."

"Don't worry about it." He chewed on his thumbnail. "I just thought once we were on tour we'd be cool again."

"We are, I'm just-"

"Yeah, I know." He shifted in his seat uncomfortably. "Look, forget it. Just cheer up, mate."

"What do I do?"

Roger took a long drag from his cigarette. "Well. Seeing how the only thing that's going to cheer you up is a freaking _girl_ ," he said with exaggeration. "Invite her to the show."

"Mom, mail." Nick came in and tossed the mail onto the counter before bounding upstairs.

Lily flipped through the bills and junk mail. At the bottom of the pile was a square, bulky white envelope with a California return address. She slid her thumb under the flap and pulled out a square of white paper and a flat plastic card. On the paper, in Vince's blocky writing, she recognized the lyrics from Lily White.

' _Don't turn your back on me, you're everything I need-'_

You were there for the beginning, you should be there for the end.

-V

She studied the card for a long time. Her heart thudding in her chest. The paper was smooth under her fingers, her breath was short in her chest. The slick plastic card was a backstage pass and clipped to the back was a ticket to their last sold out show in Madison Square Garden.

"What do I wear?" Lily screamed. She was standing knee deep in a pile of clothes; every article of clothing in her closet had been ripped from their hangers and lay at her feet.

Jen Garner was lying on the bed, flipping through Vogue. "I told you, those jeans and a white T-shirt."

"It's so boring!" Lily picked up a sequin tube top left over from Halloween.

"No. I won't let you out of the house wearing that." Jen sat up and closed the magazine. "If you wear something like that you're going to feel so uncomfortable and weird and you'll wish you listened to me."

"There has to be something else!" Lily said with a sigh, she sank down to the floor. "I'm not going."

"Lily!" Jen shrieked. "This is like the most romantic thing I've ever heard of. You are going if I have to drag you there and tie you to a seat."

"I wish we were sitting together," Lily lamented. She buried her face in a silk shirt.

"Don't worry. I'll see you right after."

"What if I'm making too much of this? What if he just means that I was there in the beginning and I should be there for the end? I'm going to feel so stupid."

"That's why you shouldn't wear the sequin top." Jen climbed off the bed and grabbed the silk shirt from Lily's hand. "Or this. What is this? It looks like part of the wardrobe from Scarface."

"Jen, I can't do this!"

"Put the shirt on and come into the bathroom and I'll do your make-up." Jen started towards the stairs. "I'm going to grab a soda, you want something?"

Lily shook her head and Jen disappeared down the stairs. Lily let out a breath. What was she doing? She hated this uncertainty. Maybe the note had just meant what it said. But why did he write the lyrics to Lily White? She had mulled it over and over as she lay awake in bed, night after night. It had been three weeks since the letter had arrived and the concert was tonight. As the date had approached, she had flip-flopped between going and not, but Jen had tickets and after Lily had shown her the letter her fate had been sealed. They were going. Lily yanked the tight white shirt over her head and cursed god for not giving her bigger breasts.

Jen appeared in the doorway. "See, it's sexy, but casual."

"Maybe it would be sexy if I had your boobs."

Jen rolled her eyes. "Get into the bathroom, and no more talking."

They took Jen's jeep. Jen's cousin Karen was with them and Lily climbed into the back seat.

Karen twisted around in her seat. "So, what's he like? Vince? I think its _soooo_ cool that you slept with him! He's _sooooo_ hot!"

Jen rolled her eyes at Lily in the rearview mirror. "You guys ready to rock?" she cried. She popped a tape into her sound system and turned the volume up as loud as it would go, letting out a holler as the music started.

Lily resisted the urge to stick her fingers in her ears, telling herself that she might as well get used to it now. Jen and Karen were headbanging away and Lily wasn't too confident in Jen's driving as she careened out into the road. It would be too bad if she died on the way to the concert and never found out what Vince had meant.

If he did want her back, then what? Would he ever really forgive her? And could she ever really forgive him? Maybe it was over; maybe they had hurt each other too much to ever really recover. But maybe not.

Chapter 15

"What if she doesn't come?" Vince paced the length of the Green Room. Roger was slumped down in a make-up chair watching him in the mirror.

"Are you trying to drive me crazy?" Roger asked around his lollipop.

"She'll come," Brian said with exasperation. "She has an hour before the show starts."

"They'll tell me if she gets here, right?" Vince stopped pacing and looked at himself in the mirror. "Oh my God. I'm pathetic."

"You just noticed this?" Roger asked, leaning foreword and picking up an eyeliner stick and drawing little hearts with it on the mirror.

"They have her ticket number so when she checks in someone will come tell us." Brian answered Vince's question.

Zack came into the room with a beer in one hand. "You think these pants look stupid?"

Roger rolled his eyes again. "You're sitting behind a drum set, sweetcakes."

"Guys, this is serious," Vince whined.

"You know what to say, right?"

Chris Young stuck his head in the door. "You guys need anything?"

"No!" They all called in unison.

"Is Vince's girlfriend here yet?" Brian asked.

"I'll go see."

Vince cracked his neck.

"Shouldn't you be doing warm-ups?" Roger asked.

"I'm too nervous."

"Oh God, this is going to be a great show."

It was dark. She could feel the anticipation of the crowd as they held their breath.

"Hello! New York!" A voice cut through the blackness and the crowd roared. She heard the opening riff to _Girls will be Girls_ and the crowd went nuts around her. The lights came up and Vince jumped off the drum platform. He wore leather pants and a black sleeveless T-shirt emblazed with an AC/DC logo. Roger was closest to her, dressed in jeans that hung low on his hips, his chest bare. His hair covered his face in a tangle of dark curls. Brian was on the other side of the stage, his knees bent as he hammered out the bass.

And then Vince started singing. She had forgotten the power of his voice, forgotten how it made her weak to watch him on stage. Her high school crush came rushing back full force, she wanted to possess him, wanted to cling to every move he made, every note reflected in his voice. She loved watching him perform, loved listening to him, watching him. The songs blended into each other and it became a montage of memories, songs she knew every word and new songs that she didn't. They were all filled with the same energy that she remembered from the beginning of their career. They played a song that she had heard on the radio, a song that Tommy had written and the crowd was near hysteria. And then, it was the end. The only song left to play was Lily White.

"I gotta say something before we do this next song," Vince yelled breathlessly into the microphone. "As most of you probably know, this song was written for an old girlfriend. I lost her one day, and I thought I'd never find her. And then a few months ago I did find her. It had been ten years. And you know what I did? I screwed up."

"That's not what I told you to say," Roger cut in, the microphone in front of him picking up the words.

There were tears in her eyes, streaming down her face, but she smiled.

"Shut up," Vince muttered.

The crowd laughed.

"I just want everyone to know what I told him to say was much more poetic."

"Anyway," Vince continued with exaggeration. "I think she might be here tonight and I wanted to say I'm sorry. I wanted to tell her that I don't want to go on if it isn't with her. I don't know if she knows this, but I never stopped loving her..."

"Isn't he getting corny?" Roger yelled out at the crowd. "Just sing the damn song already!" Roger laughed, looking at Vince. "You ready man?"

Roger hung his head, his fingers dancing over the fret board, the guitar pouring out the opening melody of Lily White. Lily found herself holding her breath, her face wet with tears. She had waited for this moment for all of her life. Each note echoed in her heart. She couldn't wait for the song to be over, couldn't wait to be in his arms. Couldn't wait to ask him if he meant it. It was almost surreal seeing them up on a stage in front of so many thousands of fans. They were no longer hers, he was no longer hers. But he wanted her. He had said it in front of a screaming crowd, but she wanted to hear it alone. Wanted to hear it so that she knew he was hers. Forever.

She pushed past the crowds at the end of the concert, digging the backstage pass out of her back pocket. The entrance was crowded with women in tight spandex, all vying for entry. She shouldered her way through them, forgetting Jen, forgetting the concert. The security guard checked her pass and motioned her through.

She took a deep breath. The corridor was filled with people, celebrities pushed past her to get to an open door up to her left. She could hear voices and she forced herself to put one foot in front of the other until she entered the room.

The first thing she saw was Ava Christian in a tight white dress struggling with the cork of bottle of Champagne, she was laughing, her blond curls hanging over her shoulders in a cascading waterfall, her lips and fingernails were painted blood red. Lily felt stupid, cold flooded through her despite the heat of the tiny room filled with so many people. Why was she here, why had she come, why did he say those things? She wanted to turn and run back down the corridor away from all of this.

"Lily!" She heard Vince's voice from somewhere. She turned to look for him, struggling to find him in the sea of faces. And then he was beside her, gripping her arm. "Follow me," he ordered. He pulled her through the crowd; people patting him, congratulating him, telling him it was a great show. But he didn't stop until he came to the dressing room. He unlocked the door and herded her into the empty room. The lights were bright; one wall was covered with a mirror and counter. Make-up and hair brushes littered the counter.

"Oh my God! I didn't think there would be so many people back here." She brushed back a lock of hair from her eyes.

"It's not usually this bad. It's because it's the last show."

"Your wife is here."

"Ex-wife," he said with a smile. "Why? You jealous?"

She didn't answer.

"Roger invited her, he wanted her to bring some of her friends."

"Oh."

"There's this model he has his eye on."

"Vince?" she asked meekly.

He stuck his hands in his pockets. "Yeah. I meant it."

"So... Now what?"

He studied her. "You look thin."

She looked down at the floor, self-conscious. "You look good. And the show was... It was really great."

"You look beautiful." He took a tentative step towards her. "I missed you."

Tears oozed from her eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything that I did..."

"Shhh." His fingertips skimmed across her jaw line. "I'm sorry. I was... I was a jerk."

"No, I deserved it. I never-"

"You think we can talk about this later?" He caught his finger under her chin and lifted her face to his. "I really just want to kiss you."

Her arms were around him in an instant, tangling in his hair, inhaling the scent of him. And he kissed her. Every thought vanished from her mind; everything that she wanted to say to him evaporated in the heat of his kiss.

"So, does this mean we're back together?"

"This means were getting married." His eyes darkened. "I'm not losing you again."

She kissed him, joy swelling in her heart. "I won't let you."

Epilogue

One year later.

"Vince!" Lily knocked on the bathroom door again. "Can I please come in?"

"No!" came the muffled response.

"Vince, in a month or two I'm going to know no matter what," she said, leaning against the doorframe.

The door opened and Vince stuck his head out. "I didn't find out for ten years so I'm figuring I'll keep you in the dark for ten minutes." He glanced at his watch.

"How much longer do I have to wait?"

He kept his eyes on the watch. "A minute and thirty seconds."

She tried to peek at the pregnancy test in his hand, but he swatted her away.

"I'm naming this one," Vince said, keeping his eyes glued to the watch.

A slow smile spread across her lips. "This one?"

He glanced up. "Damnit!"

She laughed. "So I assume that we have a new addition to the Maddox family."

He tossed the pregnancy test into the sink. "I'm so stupid."

He turned back to look at her and his eyes shone with pride.

"You're going to have to do diapers this time," she said.

"It's okay, Brian let me practice with Julia." He grinned at her. "Maybe Tommy can marry Julia."

"Tommy?"

"Yeah, I thought maybe if it's a boy we could name him Tommy."

Lily smiled. "And you think Brian is going to let our son marry his daughter?"

Vince grinned, taking Lily in his arms. "With us for parents he's going to be so devastatingly handsome no woman will be able to resist him."

"I love you," she whispered.

"I love you, too." He planted a kiss on her forehead, his arms wrapped around her waist. "Now all we have to do is find a girl for Roger."

