Falling for the Ghost of You (35 page)

"A bunny, Violet?  Really?"

"
Shh
!"

"Wow," Joanna is saying.  "That is very...specific.  Are you describing your perfect woman, or your girlfriend."

Zane smiles.  "Both."

"
Aww
!" Kim and the audience say simultaneously.

Joanna leans forward, resting her chin on her hands.  "Tell us more."

"Uh..."  Put on the spot, he chuckles, staring down at his hands resting on his lap.  "Well, the truth is...I screwed up with her big time.  I don't think she's going to ever forgive me.  So...I don't know."

The audience "
awws
!" again.

"Oh, no," Joanna says sympathetically.  "What'd you do?"

Zane
just
shakes his head with a small smile playing on his beautiful lips.  When she continues to stare piercingly at him, he just laughs.  "What?  That's...all I got."

"Aiden, you can't just leave us hanging!"

He remains silent, still smiling.  Those achingly blue eyes of his look right back at her, refusing to give anything away.

Finally, she huffs a sigh.  "Okay, you.  We're running out of time.  But I must say, whoever she is, she would be a fool not to forgive you.  I bet it works out between the two of you."

Zane exhales softly.  He seems to look straight into the camera, into my eyes when he says, "I hope so."

I can't stop thinking about Zane' interview.  Does that mean he still wants to be with me?  Does that mean the ball is in my court now?  What am I suppose to do?  Nothing’s changed.  He’s still one of the most famous faces in the world, and
I’m…just me.  I mean, say we ge
t back together…then what?  What happens when he goes on tour for a year.  I’ll be miserable.

I’m miserable now.  I don’t know what to do.  I miss him.  I miss him so much.

******

Chapter 36

Mom is planning me a surprise birthday party.  I know this because she is the worst at keeping secrets.  Last month, she dropped a whole bunch of invitations at my feet.  It looks like she’s inviting every living relative we have—maybe because I don’t have many close friends. 

I don’t want a birthday party.  That’s about the last thing I want.  But how do I tell her that without hurting her feelings?  She’s been so sensitive lately, crying at the drop of a hat.  Between her and Lauren, I feel like I’m in the middle of a soggy Kleenex commercial.

The day of the party (that I’m not suppose to know about), Mom takes Lauren and I to a high end spa.  We get facials, massages, and our hair done—and I’m not sure why since all three of us don’t like strangers poking and prodding at us.  Mom especially hates when anyone touches her face, but she grits her teeth and get through it—and I do the same for her.  Lauren simply tries to bite anyone who comes to
o close to her
.  She is super grouchy lately.

Afterwards, we go shopping for outfits to wear for the party.  My mind is a million miles away, so I kind of give Mom carte blanche on my picking out my dress.  I keep thinking about what Zane said to me one day at the beach.  Live in the moment.  Don’t worry about what might happen.

I really try to picture my life as a Aiden Cross’ girlfriend.  I can’t see it.  Hell, I could barely see
myself as Zane O’ Connor’s girlfriend.  But I try to imagine a life without him—and it makes me want to cry.

“Violet, you have to try on this dress!”

Mom pushes some red material in my hands.  When she sees my face, she frowns.  “Are you okay?  You look like you’re crying.”

“No,” I say, blinking rapidly.  “This, uh…dragonfly.  It almost got me in the eye.”

“Dragonfly?  Where?”  Mom looks around, paranoid.  She hates insects with an almost psychotic intensity.

“Yeah, it left.  Um, where are the dressing rooms?”

“Right there,” she replies, pointing to the sign we’re standing in front of, which says, “Dressing Rooms.”

I clear my throat.  “Oh.  Okay.  Lauren, do you have anything to try on?”

Lauren unenthusiastically holds up several dresses.  I can tell they were all picked by Mom—who by the way, has no idea Lauren is pregnant. 

We both drag our feet.  I hate dressing rooms.  I always feel so weird about standing in front of a mirror to change.  And I’m always so paranoid
that
some little kid
is going to crawl into my stall.  I
t’s
actually
happened before.  The kid was eight and a perv.  I’ll never forget his huge eyes and giant grin as I held my shirt in front of me with one hand and tried to shoo him away with the other.

I quickly wiggle out of my shirt and jeans and shimmy into the dress.  It’s fire engine red, with a halter top and almost no back.  The skirt is short and full and kind of swirls against my legs when I move.  Okay, I love it.

“Violet, come out so I can see!” Mom calls from outside.

Rolling my eyes, I do as she asks.  When she sees me, her eyes widen slightly.

“Oh, wow.  I didn’t realize that dress was quite so…sexy.  You look great, though.  Do you like it?”

“I do,” I say.  I try to adjust the top so not quite so much cleavage is showing, but the dress was designed to show cleavage, so my attempts are unsuccessful.

“Well, I’m not sure if it will be appropriate for—uh—dinner tonight.  At the restaurant.”

“Oh.  What restaurant was it again?”  I ask, unable to resist putting her on the spot.

“Didn’t I say?”  Mom fidgets and smoothes back her pale blonde hair.  “Um, was it The Four Seasons?”

“Are you asking
me
?”

“Yes, I’m pretty sure it was.  I mean, it is.”  She makes a little snorting sound.  “Sorry.  Pregnancy brain.  You know how it is.  No!  No, you should definitely not know how it is—because you’re
not
pregnant
, right?”

“No, I’m definitely not,” I sigh.

Mom gives a relieved
chuckle.  “Thank god.  Not only are you way too young,
but
how weird would that be?  Us being pregnant at the same time?  Me, pregnant with your little brother or sister, and your baby would be my baby’s niece o
r nephew—on both sides!  I
s that right?”

A young couple standing near us give us a wide-eyed look, then quickly shuffle away.  “Lauren!” I shout a bit desperately.  “Come on out!”

I decide to get the dress.  I don’t have anyone to look sexy for, bu
t I feel good in it, so why not?
  Lauren chooses a pretty black dress that looks striking against her pale skin.  We get ready in my room, then Lauren is suppose to take me out for a few hours so Mom can get my party set up.

Lauren knows I know, so she doesn’t bother to pretend.  We decide to watch m
ovies all day at her place
until it’s time to go home and be surprised.  I wish I could just stay here, instead of put on a happy face for a bunch of people.  Actually, I wish I could just hang out at the beach all day, just staring at the waves, and thinki
ng.  I know what I want to do—
I just need to find the courage to do it.

So Mom went all out for my party:  elaborate decorations, caterers, a deejay…a marching band.  Okay, I’m kidding about the marching band.  Almost everyone that was at the wedding
is back again for my birthday—e
ven Taylor.  She's probably hoping to hook up with Zane.

Oh, and Matt and Rachel are here!  Why did she invite them?  Why did they come?  It’s super awkward when they come up to say happy birthday to me.  Rachel still can’t look me in the eye, and neither can Matt.  I don’t understand.  He was never this interested in my body when we were dating, but now he can’t keep his eyes off my cleavage.  Weird.

I wonder if Zane knows it's my birthday?  I bet Mom told him.  She must've told him about the baby, too.  Will he take time away from his celebrity lifesty
le to visit when she gives birth
?

I am restless throughout the party.  I stick close to Lauren, not caring if I seem rude.  I want to talk to Zane.  The moment I decide to sneak away to call him, Mom grabs me and tells me the caterers are bringing out the cake.  So I put a smile on my face while they bring in a huge chocolate cake—
Dobash
, my favorite!  Everyone sings to me, and I try not to grimace as I blow out the candles.  Someone, though, put trick candles on my cake, and I blow so hard, one of the cake decorations—a tiny little basket made to look like a birthday present—flies off the cake and hits my baby cousin, Bella, in the eye.  She screams and screams, and in the chaos, Great Grandma manages to hobble her way over to me and squeeze my boobs really hard—for what purpose, I don’t know.  Fortunately, several people manage to capture these special moments on video, so I’ll always have these memories.  Documented.  Online, probably.

My boobs hurt.  I just want everybody to go home.  I try to escape to the garden, but Lauren grabs me.

“I need to talk to you,” she says.  There’s a strange furtive look in her big brown eyes.

“Um, okay.”  Alarmed by her expression, I gesture toward the back door.  “We could go out in the garden, or—”

“I saw a bunch of your cousins head out there.  I think they’re goin
g to play football, or smoke pot
.”

“What?!  They’d better not,
” I say, trying to peer through the window.

But Lauren grabs me and tows me along.  “Let’s go to your room.”

What is going on with her?  I wonder if she’s going to tell me she’s having twins?  Yikes!  Has the pressure finally gotten to her?  Even though the lights in my bedroom are already on, she flips the switch twice. 

I blink at her.  “Is that a new ritual of yours, or something?”

Lauren makes a face.  “It’s a pregnancy thing.”

Okay.  Being pregnant obviously turns women nutty.  “What did you want to talk to me about?” I ask her.

“
I wanted to ask you if you’re
happy,” she blurts out.  She paces in front of the French doors.  “Because you don’t seem to be.  You’re putting up a good front, but I can tell.  Are you regretting breaking up with Zane?”

I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.  “Yes,” I sigh.  I drop down onto my bed.  “I miss him so much, it hurts.  I—I think I’m going to call him.   I know it’s probably not going to work out, and I’ll end up getting my heart shattered into, like, a million pieces.  But I love him.  I’d rather have a piece of him for even just a little while, then nothing, never at all.  I’ll just—I don’t care, I’ll just deal with it.”

Lauren stares out the window during my rant.  “Are you sure he’s worth it?”

“Yes,” I say.  “He is.”

Finally, she turns.  Smiling at me, she throws open the French doors.  “Let’s hope you’re right.”

“What…?”

The sounds of a guitar playing float in through
the doors.  Are those my pot-smoking cousins?
If so, they’re awfully good.
  Frowning, I follow the melody out to the balcony.  It’s hauntingly beautiful, yet achingly sexy at the same time.

My room overlooks the gardens below.  I squint into the darkness, trying t
o find the source of the music.  A tall figure suddenly
steps into the light cast by my room.

I gasp, hands flying to my mouth.

It’s Zane!

He’s strumming the guitar with expert ease.  And he’s looking up at me with those famous azure eyes
that seem to glow in the half-light
.  Our gazes tangle and lock.

Then he starts to sing, in that amazing raspy voice that I’ve listened an
d dreamed to for so long.  H
e’s singing to me.

Standing on the edge of a broken lie

Trying to find my reason; can’t find my way

Left myself in the fall

I lost my way

Can you help me find my way home

You’re the breath I couldn’t take

My burning truth

Life of glitter; everyone’s fake

Your hair across my pillow

Your skin against mine

In your eyes is where my peace lies

You are my way home

The garden is suddenly illuminated with thousands of twinkle lights, revealing Zane’s band members set up behind him.  Dr
ums, guitars, keyboard, amps…the whole deal
.  They join in with Zane’s guitar, lifting the song and powering it into the atmosphere
.

So tell me you love me

I need to hear you say

You forgive me

When everything's golden lies; tell me