Melody of Truth (Love of a Rockstar Book 3) by Nicole Simone

goddamn mind again and forgetting that Sean wasn’t my future, Marco was.
    “Hello,” I answered.
    “Hey! I’m so glad you answered. How are you?”
    I nibbled my bottom lip as the guilt escalated a few notches. What could I say? I was freaking fantastic because last night I slept in a cocoon of hard muscle—not gonna work.
    Less was better. “Fine. How are you?”
    “Wonderful. I have penned three new poems. They are edgier than my others …”
    Once Marco got on the topic of writing, I had to literally shout at him to shut him up. Otherwise, hours would pass. I threw my belongings into my suitcase and zipped it closed.
    Marco paused for a breather and I jumped on the lull. “Is the apartment okay? Did you get the rent money I sent you?”
    With traveling to various destinations for work, my home was my haven. I’d found my tiny studio with a sleeping loft on Craigslist and as soon as I had stepped inside, I had fallen in love with the pre-war architecture. Rugs woven by refugees from Africa decorated the scuffed wooden floors, a Moroccan coffee table salvaged from a dumpster acted as my desk, and an overstuffed yellow couch served as my writing chair. With my notebooks scattered around me, I came up with my best ideas in a spot near the window, hence why I’d refused when Marco suggested we find a bigger place. It was tight with two people, but Marco spent the majority of the day and night in his uptown co-working space.
    “The apartment is fine and yes, I got the rent money. Don’t stress babe, everything is under control.”
    “What about—”
    Marco predicted my question and a tender smile could be heard in his voice as he said, “Colette? I visited her yesterday for a second before I went to the studio.”
    “Is she taking her medication?”
    “She said she is.”
    My lips pinched together in worry. My next-door neighbor Colette was an eighty-year-old former ballerina that suffered from high blood pressure. The stubborn old coot found modern medicine useless and if not for my persistence, she would have thrown away the pills long ago.
    “You can’t ask. You have to give them to her with a cup of tea and a shortbread cookie,” I instructed.
    “Mel, I don’t have time to play nurse. My gallery showing is in two weeks.”
    “She doesn’t have anyone else.”
    “Then she should go to a nursing home where there is around-the-clock care.”
    “And leave her home?! She married her late husband in that living room.”
    Marco heaved an exasperated sigh. “Fine, I’ll force the pill down her throat if I have to. Happy? “
    “Yes, very. Thank you.” The shuffling of papers sounded over the line, and a vivid image of him in his studio surrounded by canvases, some leaning in stacks against the wall and others propped on easels and half finished, caused the corners of my mouth to tip upward. He seemed more at home there than anywhere else. “Can you send me photos of your new work?”
    “Of course! I’ll send them as soon as we get off the phone.”
    A quick peek at the clock showed how soon that would be. “I have to go now actually. I’m running behind.”
    “Before you do, I have some news about our wedding venue.”
    I slipped on my shoes, grabbed my suitcase, and hustled toward the elevator. “What is it?”
    “We have to push the date up. They double-booked us and asked if we would be willing to change it to the first of May instead. They are willing to give us a fifty percent discount. “
    My wayward attention snapped back into focus. The doors slid open with a ding and let out a family of five. I stayed rooted to the spot, unable to move. “I can’t leave in the middle of the documentary.”
    “I figured you would say that. The ceremony is in the morning and we will hold off on the reception until you’re home for good, so you’ll only be gone for one day, maybe two.”
    “But you’re talking about a week from now.” My pulse kicked up a few notches and I fought to remain calm.