I Know Who You Are by Bh76

by

She had stopped next to one of the guitar players and was leaning back onto his shoulder as she sang. That bitch was touching another man as she sang Smith’s love song for her.

I watched horrified as the guitar player seemingly innocently turned his head and whispered something to her. Her eyes lit up and she subtly nodded her head. I saw Smith staring at them, his eyes were black as coal. The scowl on his face couldn’t be hidden. I did notice the camera never did a close up on him again.

Was that it? Had she cheated on him with one of the guys in her band? It was bad enough that she was clearly flirting with that guy on national television, but did they take it farther or had she already betrayed him and that was when Smith realized something happened?

I looked at the title of the video and gasped. It was Valentine’s Day two years ago. There was a break after the song where the host talked to Lindsay. When they finished, another song started, but it wasn’t Smith on piano.

I guessed Smith must have stormed off leaving a back up to take his place. I wondered what happened after that. I knew he wasn’t ready to talk about her yet, so I wasn’t going to ask. I googled their breakup and there wasn’t a single rumor about the reason. Nothing about her cheating. Nothing about him walking off that stage. They must have had amazing PR people to block all of that. All there was, were interviews where she said she wished he hadn’t broken up with her, and one interview with him saying he would always love her, but they were going in different directions. He said he didn’t want to hold her back.

That was surprising. She was one of the biggest Country acts in the world when they broke up. He wasn’t holding her back; he was lifting her up. When he left, she struggled to stay on top. After her last album bombed, she reinvented herself as a Pop singer, but her preview single sucked.

***

For the rest of the week, we texted every day and talked a few times. Nothing Earth shattering, we were getting to know each other. Well, he was getting to know me. Our talks were generally about my life, and he got to know me, while I tried to figure him out. He just wouldn’t open up to me.

He ended up going out of town on Friday and Saturday, so when Valentine’s Day came, I hadn’t seen him for a week. I was going to change that.

He said he didn’t want to do Valentine’s Day, so we wouldn’t. That would not stop me from seeing him though.

I rang his bell at seven in the morning. I had three bags of groceries and a plan for the entire day. When he opened the door, I could see that he was in a bad mood. I ignored it and pushed past him into the house.

“What’s all this, Teagan? I told you I don’t…”

“I don’t want to go another day without seeing you either. You’re so sweet,” I said then kissed his cheek. “In case you were worried about it, this isn’t a Valentine’s Day thing. See?” I asked pointing to the counter.

“No card, no flowers, no candy…just the fixings for breakfast.”

He smirked, “Okay. What’s for breakfast?”

“I make a sort of casserole with eggs, bacon and sausage, hash browns, and onion.”

“Sounds terrible for me,” he frowned.

“It better be,” I answered and stuck my tongue out at him. “Come here,” I said as I handed him a bottle of Prosecco. “Open this for the mimosas.”

He shook his head in annoyance. He knew what I was doing and didn’t like it. I may not have called it celebrating Valentine’s Day, but it certainly was what I was doing.

He popped the cork and handed me the bottle.

“Thanks. Oh! And I’m going to sit on your lap and kiss you while it’s baking.”

That earned me a smile he couldn’t hide.

***

He cut the bacon while I browned the sausage. I looked at his back, which was turned to me, and sighed. He had his sad posture on. I had to stop that and quickly.

“Hey, Smith?”

“Yeah?” he asked without turning around.

“How old are you?”

He stopped cutting and turned, “I’m 33, why?”

“Can’t I know?”

He smiled, “I suppose. Does my age matter?”

“Does mine?” I countered.

“Nope. I look like a god when I walk into a room with a young hottie like you. Every man is jealous.”

I laughed. “You’re such a doofus.”

“Bacon’s ready, what’s next?” he asked ignoring my protest.

“Drop it in the mixing bowl there.”

I finished putting the rest of the ingredients together, put them into a baking dish, and put it in the oven.

I washed my hands and said, “We can do this on the couch or on a kitchen chair, which do you prefer.”

“I thought you were kidding,” he smiled.

“I never kid about kissing, buddy. Stretch out those lips and get ready.”

He looked nervous and it made me smile. He was so cute when he was out of his comfort zone.

I took his hand and led him to his living room. It was much nicer and more finely appointed than my great room, and I finally saw the piano.

He saw me stare at it and said, “The acoustics in that spot are the best in the room.”

I shrugged my shoulders and gently pushed him onto the couch. I followed and planted my tight little tush right on his left leg.

“You may kiss me, great knight.”

He laughed and said, “If I must.”

“You must, you must,” I said before I pressed my lips against his. They were soft and tasted like the mimosa he sipped.

He broke the tender kiss and looked at me with a smirk, “You’re pretty aggressive for someone so young.”

“What can I say?” I answered. “When I want something, I go for it. Is that a problem for you?”

“No. I’m just surprised by your maturity. Well, except for you still calling your father daddy.”

“He’ll always be my daddy, buster, and don’t you forget it.”

“Okay, feisty. Settle down.”

I pulled his face to mine, and we began to make out.

***

After breakfast, I took my drink into his living room and sat at his piano. I didn’t know how to play, so I just pushed the keys randomly.

He walked in and said, “Wow! You’re pretty bad.” He sat next to me on the small bench and played some kind of flourish that sounded amazing.

“Play me a song, maestro,” I asked. I hoped to get him to play some songs that weren’t that same old piece of a song he was wasting away over.

He looked at the keyboard and made a big show of cracking his knuckles.

“Okay, bugs bunny,” I said laughing.

He smiled and played the beginning to Let It Be.

“Something from my lifetime,” I moaned.

“Some songs are timeless, my dear,” he said and started playing Bohemian Rhapsody.

“Play one of yours. Play me ‘Her Smile.'”

That was one of his songs I liked that God damned Lindsay Taylor didn’t sing.

He frowned but began playing the beautiful piano intro and then the vocal melody.

“You’re so amazing,” I said and rested my head on his shoulder.

“Nah,” he disagreed. “Playing piano is easy.”

“That’s not what I meant. You write songs that people make love to. You write songs that people dance to at their wedding or prom. What you give to the world matters to people.”

“Those days are gone, I’m afraid.”

He slid off the bench and went back to the kitchen to refill our glasses. I hoped I didn’t upset him. I was trying to get him out of his block, not make the situation worse.

He came back with a tray of coffee and our refilled mimosas. “Sit with me for a minute,” he asked.

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