Based on and containing the song “Whatever You Say” as performed by Martina McBride

Valerie sighed, turning in a circle as she looked for anyone familiar in the crowd.

She dropped her bags to the ground, her hands coming up to rake through her blonde hair in frustration.

He’d forgotten her.

Again.

She hugged her arms around herself, trying her best to keep it together.

The last thing she needed was to cause a scene in the middle of the airport.

She took several deep breaths, calming herself, regaining her focus.

“Okay, come on, Val.  First things first.  Get to the hotel.  Find a cab.”

She hoisted her bags back over her shoulders, staggering under their weight, and made her way through the sliding glass doors as quickly as she could.

She’d landed at LaGuardia, in New York, at night.

Surely there would be at least one cab waiting.

She made her way through the sliding glass doors, a groan escaping when she saw the lines at the curb . . . and the four cabs being filled.

She dropped her bags to the sidewalk and sat down, propping her elbows on her knees and dropping her forehead into her hands.

From the looks of things, she was going to have a long wait.

More than an hour later, she was wearily climbing into the backseat of a yellow car, grateful that the cabbie was kind enough to help her load her bags.

She settled herself into the seat, her head falling back against the headrest.

Her eyes quickly scanned over the cab fare chart hanging on the seat in front of her, her eyes widening when she saw how much they’d gone up.

It would cost her an arm and a leg, but she would get there.

She felt the car jerk into traffic and glanced toward the clock on the dashboard.

10:45.

She glanced out the window, sighing quietly when she saw all the cars in front of them.

It would be at least another hour before they made it to the Hilton.

She may as well relax.

They’d finally made it out of the maze of airport roads when her gaze was drawn downward, a flash catching her eye.

Another car passed them, its headlights glinting off the ring on her left hand.

“That sure is a sparkler you’ve got there, ma’am.”

The driver’s voice cut through the silence, making her jump.

“Oh . . . thank you.”

He glanced at her in the rearview mirror.  “So, you’ve got yourself a young man back home.  Does that put you here in the city for business or pleasure?”

She chuckled at his phrasing and mulled over the question.  “Both, I guess.”  She figured JC would probably want to brainstorm with her for at least a couple hours while she was here.  He always had one thing or another he wanted her opinion on.

“Well, you best be careful when you’re out and about.  A pretty thing like you could get into trouble real quick on some of these streets.  Especially if you’re alone.”

She smiled, twisting the ring around on her finger.  “I’ll be careful.  It’s not my first time up here.”

No, it was far from the first time she’d been here.

She closed her eyes, remembering the first time she’d been called up by Zomba to write with some of their people over at this Jive office.

She’d only been nineteen at the time, but the people at Zomba had recognized the talent in some of the song demos she’d sent them and they’d set her up for a three week session in New York, where some of their best acts were recording.

She’d had good days and bad, depending on who she was writing with.  Dre and Britney had been handfuls, insisting that their words stay as is, no matter how ridiculous they sounded.

But her time with Joe and the Nsync guys had more than made up for the hassle.

JC had stood out, his writing style obvious, his ability to emote through the lyrics and arrangements astounding.

Justin had been . . . special.  His lyrics had been raw and needing some touching up, but he’d definitely had a grasp on the writing.  As for the arrangements . . . the guy had talent oozing out of his ears.

She smiled, thinking back on the first few sessions she’d had with each.

JC had been strictly business, getting his stuff hammered out in no time flat.

Justin had taken it seriously, but he’d made the process fun, arguing playfully with her whenever he wanted things one way and she wanted them another.  He’d had no problems flirting with her, making her feel completely at ease while she worked with him.

Maybe it was because they were the same age, or maybe it was because she’d had a little bit of a crush on him . . . whatever it was, laughing through her sessions with him had made the three weeks fly by and, by the end, she’d felt that she’d really accomplished something.

A grin spread across her face at the memory of her last writing session with him . . .

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”  She sighed, staring at the page in front of her.  “We’ve been sitting here for . . .”  She paused to check her watch.  “Nearly three hours and we can’t even agree on how the chorus should sound?”

“Hey, you should know that this takes a while.”

She groaned, covering her face with one hand.  “I’ve been up here for two weeks working with all you Jive guys.  Out of all of them, you and JC were the easiest to work with.  I know how quickly you can do this.  Three hours on one part of the song is just ridiculous.”

“You’re the one who’s being picky about it.”

“Seriously, Justin, I’m leaving in two days and I can’t promise that I’ll have time to come back to this.”

“I happen to like the way it sounds.  You’re the one who thinks it needs to be changed.”

She glared over at the couch.  “That’s because it sounds . . . it sounds . . .”

His eyebrow arched at her.  “Yeah?  What’s wrong with it?”

“It sounds . . . fluffy.  That’s the word.  Fluffy.”

He snorted, then burst out laughing.

She threw her notebook at him, exasperated.  “Where’s JC?  Shouldn’t he be in here, too?”

“Nope.  It’s my song, not a group effort.”  He grinned when she raised an eyebrow at him.  “Well, you know what I mean . . . the guys aren’t helping with this one.”  He hopped up and threw his arm around her shoulders.  “It’s just you and me, Val.”

“Well, at least you didn’t call me ‘baby girl’.”  She rolled her eyes, shaking her head when he laughed.  “‘My baby girl it’s plain to see that our love was meant to be.’”  Her voice turned from mocking to disbelieving.  “Come on, now.  Baby girl?  Who in their right mind would talk like that?”

He narrowed his eyes at her.  “I talk like that.”

She grinned evilly, stepping away quickly.  “I rest my case.”

He crossed his arms and glared at her.  “It stays in.”

“No.  Pick one.  Baby or girl, but not both.”

“If you drop one, the rhythm won’t match.”

“Tough.  We’ll make it work.”  She glared at him from across the table.

He put both hands on the table, leaning forward.  “It stays.”

“Nope.  It’s out.”  She shook her head.

“In.”

“Out.”

He took a few steps around the table towards her and she skittered on around, keeping the table fully between them, a feisty grin spreading across her face.

“You’re not going to chase me, are you?”  She snickered.

“Maybe.” 

He took a few more steps, then halted when she started moving as well.

“What exactly is a ‘baby girl’, anyway?”  She was fighting not to laugh, her playful eyes and twitching lips giving away her efforts.

He chewed on his lip, then played along, moving his eyebrows suggestively as he grinned.  “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

She burst out laughing, backing up against the wall and holding her sides.

“You could show me, right?”  She was sputtering, trying to catch her breath as another wave of laughter rolled through her, doubling her over.

He cut around the table, grabbing her around the waist and hauling her over his shoulder.

“Justin!  Put me down!”  She was laughing too hard to really scream at him, but she was still able to make quite a bit of noise.

He twisted back and forth with her, laughing as she tapped weakly against his back with her hands.

“Hmmm . . . something tells me that the chorus is going to stay the way I want it.”

“No way.”  She wheezed, fighting for air.  “Put me down.  This isn’t fair.”

He walked over to the couch and flipped her around so that he could drop her onto the cushions.

She tried to sit up, but he put his weight down on her gently, holding her in place by sitting on her stomach.

“Now, who was making fun of the way I talk?  Oh yeah . . . you.”  He bounced on her a little.  “Say you’re sorry.”

She pushed against him.  “Absolutely not.  There’s no way I’m going to apologize for making fun of you for actually calling somebody ‘baby girl’.  Nuh-uh.  No way.” 

He grinned wickedly.  “What if I show you what I mean by it?”

She froze, her hand resting on his back.  “What?”

He shrugged, that evil glint still in his eyes.  “I’ll show you what it means to be a ‘baby girl’.  If you get it, the chorus stays as is.  If you don’t, we change it.”

She eyed him warily for a minute.  “You promise you’ll let me change it?”

He shook his head, laughing.  “Sure, I’ll promise . . . but I have faith that you’ll let me keep it the way it is.”

Her eyes narrowed at the challenge.  “Bring it on, Curly.”

He took in her determined expression and his grin widened.  “Let’s get a little more comfortable here.”

He slid off her, his hands holding on to her waist, keeping her on the couch.

With a little maneuvering, he was sitting on the cushions with her lying across his lap, a skeptical look on her face.

“You’ve got some major work to do if this is your big move, Romeo.”

His eyes widened.  “You haven’t seen anything yet, Val.”  He leaned over so that he was stretched out beside her, propped up with his arm on the arm rest, where her head lying.  “Raise up a little.”

She did as she was told, and when she laid her head back down, she felt his arm behind her, his hand curling around so his fingers could comb through her hair and massage her scalp.

“Ohhh . . . that’s nice.”

He grinned when her eyes closed and he heard her relaxed sigh.

He reached up and brushed a few strands of hair out of her face, his fingers skimming lightly over her cheek.
Her eyes flew open at the light touch and she swallowed visibly as she studied him.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

He moved his hand down, resting it on her hip, his grin turning wicked as her eyes widened.  “Immensely.”

Her eyes flashed with uncertainty.  “Maybe we should just duke this out like normal people.”

He felt her tensing, getting ready to bolt, and his hand tightened on her hip.  “But that wouldn’t be nearly as fun.”

“Justin . . . come on . . .”

He leaned his head down, his voice lowering.  “You’ve been driving me crazy for two weeks, Valerie.  I’m just returning the favor.”

His lips grazed her cheek as he spoke, and he heard her breath catch.

She raised her hands to his shoulders, debating on whether or not to push him away.  “Justin . . . this can’t be a good idea . . .”

He leaned into her, cutting her words off with his lips.

She made a muffled sound, tensing, then sighed and relaxed back against his arm.

He shifted slightly, getting a better angle over her lips and wrapping his arm around her waist to pull her closer.

Her hands worked their way up into his hair, her fingers tangling in the curls on the back of his head as she helplessly responded to him.

Minutes later, he pulled back, placing one last, quick kiss on her lips before resting his forehead against hers.

“Seems like a good idea to me.”  He sighed.  “I’ve been wanting to do that since I met you.”

Her eyes were still closed, her breathing deep.

“Wow.”

He grinned at the sound of her whisper, his hand coming up so that his fingers could trace the shape of her cheek.

Her eyes opened slowly and she wasn’t able to keep the dreamy smile from gracing her lips.

He arched an eyebrow playfully.  “Does the chorus stay, or do I need to work on it?”

She laughed softly, her eyes fixing on his lips as he spoke.

“I don’t know, I think I could probably use a little more convincing.”

His nose bumped against hers as he tilted his head again, his smiling lips brushing her cheek with his movement.

“I figured you wouldn’t give in easily.”

“Hey, it’s a big decision.  You’ve got to work to get your way this time.”

“Whatever you say, baby girl.  Whatever you say.”

She had just enough time to process what he’d said before his lips met hers once again, his kiss making her toes curl.

Needless to say, the chorus had stayed as he’d written it.

Not that she’d had much of a choice in the matter.

After all, he’d worked hard to convince her that it was perfect just the way it was.

Her fingers concentrated on twisting the ring around and around as her thoughts wandered through the past.

She’d been sure that it was just a thing for him, a flirting, sexy, fun way for him to get what he wanted.

They hadn’t met again before she’d gone back to Florida, leaving his song unfinished with nothing more than a hug at the end of their session.  They hadn’t even spoken before she’d boarded her plane.

It had been a safe bet on her part that their paths would never cross again.

And she’d been right.

For three days, anyway . . .

She was sitting on her couch watching Oprah, a notebook in her lap and a pen in her hand when the phone rang.

She checked the caller ID and rolled her eyes at the Unlisted Number message across the display.

“Hello?”

“Hey!  What’cha doin’?”

She didn’t recognize the guy’s voice, and shook her head, figuring it was a wrong number. 

Unfortunately for the caller, she was in the mood to play.

“Watching Oprah in my PJs and trying to get my hunk of a pool guy to notice that I’m sitting in here all alone.  What are you doing?”

“Unpacking my bags.  Finally.  It’s good to be home.”  He paused for a second, then spoke again, a hint of evil in his tone.  “PJs, huh?  Are we talking flannel or sheer?”

She bit back her laugh, looking down at her t-shirt and jeans.  “Sheer.  White sheer.  Apparently, he doesn’t take to innocent colors.”

“Try red.  Guys go wild over anything that’s red and sheer.”

“Well, that’s a shame.  My red ones are in the wash.”  She paused, clicking her pen with a grin.  “Would blue lace work?  I think those are clean.”

“Honey, lace works in any color.”  His laugh carried over the line.  “You have no idea who this is, do you?”

“I haven’t a clue, Mr. Unlisted Number.  Care to enlighten me?”

“I’m disappointed in you, Val.”  He clicked his tongue loudly, his grin evident in his voice.  “Come on, baby girl . . . think hard.”

She sat straight up, her notebook falling to the floor.  “Good Lord . . . Justin?”

“Well, that was easy enough.  Guess I’m not that forgettable, huh?”

She shook her head.  “What . . . I don’t . . . how did . . .”

He laughed as she stuttered.  “How did I get your number?  I have my sources.  Funny . . . I never figured you to be a pool boy kind of girl.”

“I’m not . . .”  She wasn’t able to put together a full sentence, no matter how hard she was trying.  “Why . . .”

“Aww . . . I’ve got you all tongue-tied.  That’s adorable, Val.  Really.”  His teasing voice cut across the line, sending shivers down her spine.  “Since you’re not up for conversation, I’ll just tell you to be ready for me to pick you up at seven tomorrow night.  Nothing fancy, a dressy-casual will be perfect.”  He paused for a second and she could hear him shuffling through some papers.  “365 Elm, right?  Cough once for yes, twice for no.”

Her brain finally kicked in, taking over her mouth.  “How do you know where I live?”

She could hear his grin.  “Like I said . . . I have my sources.  Seven o’clock, Val.  Don’t be late.”

She’d quickly found out that it hadn’t been just a thing for him.

In fact, it had been far from it.

They’d gone out the next night and hit it off immediately, laughing and talking for hours before he finally brought her back to her front door and bid her goodnight with a hug and a quick kiss on the cheek.

It hadn’t taken her more than three months to fall completely, totally, head over heels in love with him.

She looked quickly down at the digital face of her watch.

It had been five years to the day since their first date, and they’d been together ever since.

She’d become accustomed to taking advantage of whatever free time he had.  Every minute he could give her was a treasure.

She lived for his phone calls when he was on the road, his velvet voice making everything all right in her world, shattering the loneliness that took over whenever he was gone.

She’d learned to deal with the tabloids and their outrageous stories, had learned to ignore the massive rumor mills that floated around.

Of course, there had been a rough patch or two . . . or ten.

But they’d always been able to work their way through it, talk it out.

They’d always made it back to each other.

Her eyes went back to where her fingers had stopped moving, resting against the cool metal of the ring.

She swallowed hard, blinking rapidly as she relived the moment he’d given it to her, the scene playing in her mind as though it were screening in Technicolor right in front of her . . .

“So, what do you think?”

She turned when he came up beside her on the upstairs balcony, leaning against the railing to look out over the back yard.

“I think it’s gorgeous, J.”  Her eyes swept over the landscaping.  “It’s kind of massive, though, don’t you think?  Do you really need a place this big?”

“I like the idea of having room to move.”  He looked around, a grin on his face.  “Besides, it’s all the more rooms to redecorate.”

She laughed, shaking her head.  “Just when do you plan on decorating?  After recording or during tour breaks?”

He leaned down and kissed her cheek.  “I was kind of hoping you’d do the decorating.”

Her eyes widened.  “Me?  Justin, I don’t know anything about decorating houses.”

“We’ll hire someone to help you.”

She looked at him speculatively.  “You’d really trust me to decorate your house?”

He stepped back so that he could stand behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her so that she leaned against his chest.

He smiled when he heard her contented sigh and leaned his head down to rest his chin against the side of her head.

“I’d trust you with anything, Val.  As long as you leave me space for a studio and a workout room, you can do whatever your little heart desires with the rest of it.”

She tilted her head back so that she could look up into his eyes.  “Seriously?”

He leaned down and gave her a quick kiss.  “All you have to do is say that you love the place and I’ll start the paperwork.”  He grinned.  “You’ll be decorating by Monday.”

She turned around in his arms and studied his face for a minute, her eyes skipping over his features.  “Anything I want goes?”

“Whatever you say, babe.  Anything you want.”

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously.  “With no input from you?  No arguments from the peanut gallery?”

He grinned, laughing softly.  “Well, I might have a few conditions.”

She shook her head with a smile.  “Ahh . . . the catch.  I knew there was a catch.”  She looked around again, taking in the master bedroom through the sliding glass doors.  “But I do love this house.”

“There's the magic words.”  He reached down and took his cell phone from his belt, quickly keying in a number and speaking briefly before clicking the phone off.  “They’re getting their stuff together as we speak.  I should be able to go Friday and sign everything.”

“Before I find someone who actually knows about the fabric and carpet and coordinating colors and. . . well, whatever else, I want to know what these conditions are.”  She arched an eyebrow at him.  “What exactly have I gotten myself into here?”

He sighed, shaking his head as he hugged her to him.  “Val, you have no faith in me.”

She laughed into his chest.  “I know better.  The conditions?”

“Well, you’ve already heard the first one.  Make sure there’s space for a studio and a workout room.”

“That’s easy enough.  Second?”

“Try to steer away from overly girly colors.  No pink walls or carpet, please.”

She laughed and wrinkled her nose.  “Pink?  Gross.  No problem there.”

“Well, we’re two for two.”

She brought her hands up to his shoulders.  “Why do I get the feeling that the big one is coming up?”

“Probably because you know me too well.”  He smiled and took a deep, shaky breath.

She watched him swallow visibly, the nerves obvious in his eyes.  “Justin . . . what’s the last condition?”

“Somewhere along the way, when you’re buried under paint colors and fabrics and whatever else you think is necessary . . . I want you to start thinking of yourself as one of the necessities.”

His eyes were trained to her face, a small smile on his lips as he watched her eyes widen.

It was her turn to swallow hard.  “Justin . . . I think you’re going to have to be a little clearer with this one, because it sounds an awful lot like you just asked me to live with you.”

“I’m asking you more than that, Val.”  His hands tightened on her waist and his voice lowered.  “I’m not just asking you to share this house with me.  I’m asking you to share your life with me, to let me share mine with you.  Forever.”

Her wide eyes blinked at him.  “You mean . . .”

“You always need to hear it in exact terms, don’t you, Val?”  He tightened his arms around her, one hand coming up to cup her cheek as he rested his forehead against hers.  “I love you, Valerie.  I need you.  This house, it’s just a house.  It needs you to really be a home.  Our home.  A beginning for us and the life that we share together.”   He paused, his eyes pleading with her.  “Say you’ll stay with me, Val.  Love me.”  He took a deep breath.  “Marry me, baby girl.” 

She closed her eyes briefly, letting the air escape her lungs as her hands moved to bury her fingers in the shorter version of his curls, then tilted her head and covered his lips with hers, pulling him into a kiss that was deep and full of promises, telling him without words exactly what her answer was.

She pulled away and rested her head against his shoulder, taking a minute to catch her breath and wipe the tears off her cheeks.

“Wow.  Should I take that as an ‘I’ll think about it’?”

She laughed at his breathless tone, turning her head so that she could give him another quick kiss.

“You can take that as a yes.”

His face lit up in a grin and he picked her up in a bear hug, spinning her in a circle before he kissed her again.

He pulled away quickly, laughing and shaking his head.  “I probably should’ve given you the ring, huh?”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the velvet box, flipping it open and handing it to her. 

“If you don’t like it, we’ll go and you can pick out another.”

She lifted the ring from the box, blinking back a new wave of tears.

The gold band was the perfect width, engraved with an intricate vine design all the way around, three perfect diamonds set in a row across the top.

He took it from her and reached for her left hand, sliding the ring onto her finger.

“It’s perfect, Justin.”  She wrapped her arms around him, pressing her face into his neck.  “I love you.” 

His fingers came up to run through her hair as he tilted his head down, pressing kisses to her forehead as he held her close.  “I love you, too, baby girl.  I love you, too.”

“Miss?  Are you all right back there?”

The driver’s voice pulled her back into reality, leaving the images from eight months ago in the dark.

“Oh . . . yes, sir.  I’m fine.”

His eyes met hers in the rearview mirror.  “Those tears don’t look like everything’s fine.”

She reached up, surprised to find tears on her cheeks. 

“Oh, it’s just been a really long day and I’m dead tired.  It’s nothing.”

“All right then.  It shouldn’t be too much longer.  Another twenty minutes or so and we’ll be at the hotel.”

“Thank you.”

She fished in her bag for a tissue, making quick work of the offensive tear stains.

She pulled the ring off her finger, holding it so that she could run her fingertip along the interior of the band, feeling the smooth edges of the engraved words hidden there.

I love you, baby girl.

She sighed, slipping the ring back into place.

Baby girl.

The name he’d always reserved for her.

All he had to do was call her that and she was putty in his hands.

It wasn’t so much the words themselves that held the magic, but the way he said them, in that tone that told her exactly how much he loved her.

She swallowed hard, wondering if the woman in the pictures had heard those magic words.

He’d wanted to keep her out of the spotlight, allowing her to keep her sense of normalcy, to live without facing the cameras.

She received little to no attention from the press, a fact that she was grateful for.

Considering that lack of exposure, she’d understood when the rag papers and rumor mills had begun wagging their tongues, matching him up with everyone from movie stars to models to foreign royalty.

She’d been able to turn a blind eye to the obviously doctored images of him that were spread across every gossip magazine in the grocery store check out line.

No matter who they said he was with, she trusted that he wouldn’t hurt her that way . . . trusted that he wouldn’t hurt her in any way.

But . . . tabloids and gossip sites were one thing.

Photos . . . photographic proof, so clear that it couldn’t have been doctored . . . that was a different story altogether.

She thought to the envelope that had arrived three days ago, addressed to their home.

It hadn’t struck her as odd.  New owners were always getting loads of mail from area businesses. 

Thinking it was probably a junk mail packet of sales ads, she’d peeled up the flap, tipped it over . . . and had frozen in shock at the images glaring up at her from the glossy eight-by-ten prints.

These weren’t doctored images, with his face plastered on someone else’s body.

She knew the shape of him well enough to know that the man in these pictures was him.

She’d flipped through them, studying each one for validity, trying to find any reason to toss them out and chalk it up to someone trying to do harm.

But then she’d seen his face, clear as day.

And she’d known.

It was him . . . her Justin . . . grinding on some dance floor somewhere with a barely dressed brunette, his hands gripping her waist as she shoved her tongue down his throat . . . multiple times, according to the pictures.

She’d dropped the prints as though they were on fire, shaking her head in denial at what they told her.

It couldn’t be.

She’d reached back for the envelope, checking to see if there was a note or anything to identify the sender.

Nothing except a California post office box as the return address . . .

And the negatives.

They’d even sent her the negatives . . . and after checking the edges, she knew they were real.

The date stamp on the images had read May 21 . . . two weeks ago today.  Two days before their last phone conversation, when he’d asked her to meet up with them here in New York.

She stared out the window, watching the cars fly by, trying to think of anything that should have stood out as being wrong, a feeling, an impression . . . anything.

He’d been distant the last month or so, a common occurrence when he was touring or recording . . . the schedule and traveling always wore down on him, wearing him out.

She knew that he barely had time to sleep, so she hadn’t thought anything of it when he hadn’t returned her messages.

But the phone calls had been fewer and farther between than usual.

He hadn’t really wanted to talk much, just a quick ‘Hi-I had a free minute-I love you-Bye’ conversation every now and again.

Sometimes, when they were out on the road for months at a time, he’d ask her to come out when they were in one place for a couple weeks . . . four visits this time around.

And he’d forgotten all about her on three of the four trips.

It really wasn’t a surprise to her.  Whenever she tried to relay information about her travel plans, she received a distracted “Whatever you say, babe” before he had to go.

Whatever you say . . .

She shook her head, chasing the words away.

Her eyes turned to her duffel, staring hard, as though she could see the offensive manila sleeve through the canvas.

“We’ll be there in five minutes, Miss.”

She gave the driver a quick smile.  “Thanks.”

She reached out and picked up her cell phone, punching number three on the speed dial and listening to it ring.

“This is Mike.”

She smiled when he answered.  “Hey Mike.”

“Valerie?”  She could hear the surprise in his voice and pictured him looking at his watch.  “It’s midnight, girlie.  Are you all right?

“Yeah, I’m fine.  I need a favor, though.”

“What do you need?”

“Can you have somebody meet me in the lobby?  I have my pass, but I’m beat and don’t feel like waiting on the hotel people to do their ID check.”

“Wait a second.  You’re here?  In New York?”

“Yeah, I’m about five minutes away from you.”

She grinned when he cursed quietly.  “I’m gonna wring that boy’s neck.  Someone should have been there to meet you at the airport.”

“It’s all right, big guy.  I know they’re busy.”

“That’s just it . . . today was an off day for them.”

The words stung, making her flinch.

She sighed.  “We’re pulling up to the intersection before the drop-off area.  Can somebody be there to meet me?”

“Yeah, I’ll be there.”

“Thanks, Mike.”

“See you in a few.”

She could hear a door closing before he hung up and knew that he was on his way.

That thought alone gave her a small sense of comfort.

The cab pulled to a halt at the curb and the driver put the car in park before popping the trunk and opening the door.

She stepped out into the cool night air, shivering a little as she grabbed her smaller bags from the back seat.

She looked through the glass doors and smiled when she saw Mike coming through the lobby.

Turning, she peered through the window of the cab, looking at the meter, sighing at the $75.48 read-out.

She pulled a one hundred dollar bill out of her wallet and handed it to the driver. 

“Please keep the change.  Thank you so much.  I appreciate you going out of your way for me.”

“It was a pleasure, Miss.  Take care, now.”

He waved briefly before pulling back out into traffic.

“Did you just pay him a hundred bucks for the ride?”

She lifted her head and smiled at the large black man.  “Yeah, I did.”

“Which airport did you come from, anyway?”

“LaGuardia.  And traffic was horrendous.”

He pulled her in for a hug, lifting her up off the ground.  “It’s good to see you, Val.”

She tightened her arms around his neck.  “It’s good to see you, too, big guy.”

He set her down and reached down, lifting her bags onto a cart with ease before motioning for her to precede him through the door.  “When did you get in?”

She dropped her smaller duffels onto the cart and walked quickly through the entrance.  “My flight landed at 8:30.”

He nodded at the clerk and moved over to the elevators.  “And you’re just now getting here?”

“Forty-five minutes to get my luggage, an hour and a half to get a ride and over an hour in traffic.”

He sighed.  “We really need to beat some sense into that man of yours.”

She pushed the call button and stepped back to wait for the elevator doors to open before turning to him with a small smile.  “Is he here, or did they go out?”

“They were here about an hour ago, but I think I heard Joey trying to talk a few of them into going to a club or something.  I hid myself in my room so that they could take some of the other guys to guard their skinny white butts.”  He thought for a minute.  “I’m pretty sure that JC and Lance probably stayed in, but Chris and J might have gone with him.”

The sound of the elevators opening on the other side of the lobby drew her attention, her eyes going over to the noisy crowd exiting the car.

She saw the familiar faces and stepped further behind Mike, hiding herself from view if they should look in their direction.

Her eyes landed on Joey, his excitement evident as he walked with an extra bounce in his step, talking animatedly with Chris and another guy, probably from their management crew.

As they moved along, her gaze trailed over four of the guys from the security team, wearily dragging themselves along for the ride.

Then she saw him . . . and her world shattered even more.

He looked gorgeous in his khakis and dress shirt, a grin spreading across his face . . . as he laughed at something the brunette next to him had said.

Valerie swallowed hard as the woman from the pictures laughed with him, her head tilted back so that she could see his face, her hand resting on his arm in a familiar touch.

Misery settled in as she watched them . . . but when he reached out and hugged the brunette, anger set in. 

Hot, raging anger . . . an anger deeper than she’d ever felt before.

She reached quickly into her bag, grabbing her cell phone and flipping it open, taking a digital image of their embrace.

“Are we going to get on the elevator, or are we going to stand in the lobby all night?”

Mike’s amused voice broke through the haze that had clouded her mind and she blinked, realizing that their elevator had arrived.

“Crap . . . sorry.  I guess I zoned out there.”

“Just move it, girlie.  My room has a king-sized bed that’s just screaming my name.”

They were silent on the ride up, her thoughts running all over the place as she considered her options.

She still hadn’t said anything by the time they were in front of Justin’s door and Mike was sliding his master key through the electronic lock.

“Here ya go . . . looks like he went out.”  He pushed the cart into the room and flipped on the lights

She smiled up at him.  “Thanks for everything, big guy.”

“No problem, Val.”  He pulled her in for another hug.

“Don’t change your cell number anytime soon, okay?”  She paused when he looked down at her, confusion on his face.  “I’ll need it so that I can give you mine . . . if I decide to change.  You know you live to hear my voice.”

Realization dawned in his eyes and he nodded, giving her a sad smile.  “Whatever you do . . . he deserves it, Val.  Don’t back down, okay?”

She hugged his neck one last time.  “I won’t.”  She took a deep breath and stepped away from him.  “Now go on . . . I can hear that bed yelling as we speak.”

“Good night.”

“Good night, Mike.”

The door closed behind him and she sank into one of the plush chairs in the room, sighing deeply.

“Okay . . . should I stay, or should I go?”  She spoke aloud to the empty room, her fingers raking through her hair.

She got up and walked over to the cart, unzipping the top duffel and pulling out the large manila envelope and her notebook.

She set the large photos out on the coffee table, then pulled up the digital picture on her phone and set it next to them.

She plopped back down in the chair with her notebook, staring hard at the items in front of her.

What were the reasons for her to go?

Images flashed through her mind, ideas playing like slides on a screen . . .

The picture of him and the brunette kissing.

The image of them hugging in the lobby.

His forgetfulness . . . if she meant that much to him, wouldn’t he at least remember that she was flying in?  Especially if he was the one who made the suggestion?

Some of his comments from their brief phone conversations replayed in her head:

“It’s not a big deal, Val.  Somebody doctored a photo.”

“There’s nothing wrong.  Everything’s okay.”

“We can talk about this later, right?  I’m dead on my feet.”

“Whatever you say, babe.”

She shook her head, the intense anger resurfacing suddenly.

With all of that . . . what possible reason did she have to stay?

She still loved him.

Even with all of the evidence, she still loved him.

She looked down at the ring on her finger. 

I need you.

I love you, Val.

Say you’ll stay with me . . .

Marry me, baby girl.

At one time, he’d loved her enough to want a future with her.  She was sure of that, even if she couldn’t say the same now.

Her eyes strayed back over to the coffee table, to the hard evidence against him.

Yes, he’d loved her.

And she still loved him.

But it wasn’t enough.

Whatever you say . . .

The words rang through her head, time and again.

He’d said that one phrase in so many different ways over the years, but the only ones she could hear at the moment were his distracted responses, his flippant dismissals.

His voice echoed through her mind and she picked up her notebook, quickly scrawling out the words as they came to her . . .

You think I'm always making
Something out of nothing
Saying everything is okay
You've always got an answer
Before I ask the question
Whatever you say

Now we can change the subject
Pretend I never brought it up
Same old story anyway
Later we can work it out
But right now you’re talked out
Yeah, whatever you say

I know you can hear me
But I'm not sure you’re listening
I hear what you’re saying
But still there’s something missing
Whether I go, whether I stay
Right now depends on
Whatever you say

You say yes you need me
And no you wouldn't leave me
And this should be enough
To make me stay
And even though I want to
I don't hear I love you
In whatever you say

I know you can hear me
But I'm not sure you’re listening
I hear what you’re saying
But still there’s something missing
Whether I go, whether I stay
Right now depends on
Whatever you say

She ripped the page out of the notebook and laid it on top of the photos on the table, then reached for the small phone.

She pushed buttons, setting the photo from the lobby as the wallpaper for the screen and adding a message across the bottom.

She flipped the phone closed and reached for her purse, pulling out a small tablet of Post-Its and scribbling ‘Open Me’ on one before sticking it on the smooth casing and setting it down with the song and photos.

She looked down at the mess on the table, fighting back tears as she reached for her notebook again, intent on leaving a short, effective note.

Hey J.

Guess I missed you. 

We needed to talk, but, to be honest, I think these say everything.

Hope you had fun.

-- V

She ripped out that page as well, laying it down with the song.

She stood and stared at the pile of pictures . . . the song . . . the note.

It hurt like hell, but it was the right thing to do.

She picked up the phone and moved it over, anchoring the pages to the table.

Then her eyes turned down, locking on jeweled band on her left hand.

A single tear fell down her cheek as she pulled the ring from her finger and placed it next to the phone, where it glinted from the overhead lights.

She took a deep breath and wiped the tear away angrily, then walked over to the door, grabbing the cart and reaching for the light switch.

She paused in the doorway, looking around the room one last time.

Then she turned and walked out, pushing the cart into the hallway.

She didn’t allow herself to cry until she was seated on the plane, headed back home.

Each tear was the release of another ounce of her misery.

And when she couldn’t cry anymore . . .

The numbness set in.