Lib Novel Page 108
“What do you think about … this?” Her fingers return to the strings.
I’ve heard her play the chords so many times, I can tell she’s starting in the middle. I’m proven right when she sings the last line of the chorus before moving into what I’m guessing is the second verse. It’s a folky little number that she’s working on for a popular singer from the nineties who has decided to jump back into performing again.
Murphy’s words are soft and warm and she closes her eyes, her head falling back as she sings. I’m no music expert, but it’s easy to see how damn talented Murphy is. I’m entranced. Humble Roads is lucky as hell to have her writing for them and their artists.
I think they should sign her, but in the two or three times I’ve mentioned it since she started working with that Todd guy, Murphy just pats my hand and reminds me she’s happier with how things are now than she ever imagined. So much of her performance joy was actually in hearing her music, not about being onstage.
As long as my girl’s happy, I don’t care either way.
When she finishes, she presses her hand flat against the strings, her eyes finding mine.
“It’s really good.”
Her smile stretches wide. “Really?”
I nod. “I especially like that little yodeling thing you did at the end.”
“I wasn’t yodeling,” she says, bursting into laughter.
“Well, I don’t know what it’s called. The part where your voice wobbled around a bunch.”
Murphy falls back slightly, leaning against the couch behind her.
“It’s called melismatic singing,” she finally answers, wiping her eyes. “But I can’t wait to tell Vivian you called it yodeling.”
I shrug. “Like I’m going to know what melatonin singing is.”
At that, Murphy lets out another laugh and then sets her guitar aside, doubling over in hysterics. I mispronounced it on purpose. I’ll do anything to hear her happy.
It doesn’t hurt that she’s sitting there topless, either. I bite my lip, watching her tits jiggle.
Eventually, her laughter fades. Murphy gets onto her knees, scoots toward me, and presses a kiss against my temple.
“I needed that this morning,” she tells me. “Thanks.”
I wiggle my eyebrows. “I accept thanks in other ways, you know.”
She snorts and rolls her eyes, then drops down so she’s sitting on her feet in front of me. “As lovely as that sounds, you have that meeting this morning.”
I groan at the reminder and shove my face into the crook of where my arms are folded in front of me. There’s no way I would forget, but it’s the last thing I want her to bring up when I’m in the middle of pitching some morning shenanigans.
“I remember,” I grumble. “Wish I didn’t.”
She hums, then rubs her hands gently along my shoulders and upper back.
“It’s a good thing,” she tells me, her voice soft and loving. “And you get to spend the day with Ash.”
Sighing, I nod. She’s right, but it doesn’t really make it any easier.
I push up and sit on the edge of the bed, begrudging that the cozy joy of ogling my girlfriend is over and the day has officially begun. “I’m gonna hop in the shower.”
After giving her a quick kiss, I head into the bathroom and flip on the water. Then I brace myself on the counter and stare down at the sink, mentally preparing for what lies ahead today.
My brother talked me into going to Al-Anon, some sort of AA meeting but for family members of people with substance abuse problems. Part of me gets it—I have my own issues because of my mother. It makes sense that talking about it would be helpful. But I’m not entirely sold on the group thing, and I only agreed to it because it’s important to Ash.
Now that the day is actually here, though, I’m wishing I was a whole lot more selfish. Or even that I was the type who could just text him a bullshit sorry I can’t make it text. Because it’s the absolute last thing I want to do.
I step under the water and let the scalding heat soak my tense muscles for a long moment, reminding myself that I’m doing the right thing. Then I make quick work of my shower routine and hop out, knowing that I don’t have too much time to laze around if I’m going to meet Ash in the city.