Suddenly, it was two years ago all over again, and Lucy could feel the tears burning behind her eyes.
She wouldn't let them out this time, though.
"Don't be ridiculous." She sat up, dislodging his hand against her hip. She couldn't let him touch her, not now. If she did, she might start believing what he was saying.
Lucy grabbed for her clothes in the semi-darkness, hoping those were her jeans, not Jon's, as she pulled them over her legs.
"Why is it ridiculous?" Jon had propped himself up on his elbow in bed, making no attempt to cover his nakedness, looking every inch the debauched musician. If his fans could see him now…
Well, if they could see him now they'd wonder what the hell he was doing spending the night with a plump British folk musician who couldn't seem to put her jeans on without hopping around like a demented frog.
"You know why," she shot back. "They didn't want me there, and I didn't want to go anyway."
"That was two years ago," Jon pointed out, all too reasonably. He sat up now, his expression earnest as he reached out towards her.
Lucy stepped back.
Jon sighed. "Look, I need to go back to Nashville tomorrow, write this next album. I have to, Lucy. But I don't want to do it without you, not when I've just found you again. And besides—"
He broke off, but Lucy imagined she knew exactly what his next words were going to be.
"Besides, you're so damn blocked musically you can't write anything without me anymore. Right? That's why you need me. That's why you came back."
Seducing her again was probably just a bonus. Or a way to make sure she didn't question his motives too deeply. After all, she didn't imagine for a moment that she'd get to be an internationally famous star out of helping him. She'd be in the background, keeping him grounded, musically, while he lived his celebrity existence without her.
She could see it, so damn clearly, she couldn't imagine why she hadn't seen it before.
"No!" Jon's eyes widened with alarm—probably at being found out. "That's not…that's not it at all, Lucy."
"Are you sure?" She raised her eyebrows In disbelief. "Maybe you didn't plan to come here and ask me to fix this for you." If she was giving him the benefit of the doubt. "But you can't pretend it wasn't exactly what you hoped this nostalgia trip would give you. A way back into your music, right?" And for them, music had always been tied up in who they were—together. Ever since Jon first picked up a ukulele in primary school and started playing along to her violin practice.
"I didn't…" Jon's voice faltered, and he looked down at his hands, resting on his bare knees. "I didn't plan any of this. I didn't expect to see you at all. I figured… I thought you'd still hate me."
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