started rubbing the lotion into the sun-kissed skin of his back. His muscles rippled underneath her fingers, so different from Ezra’s lean frame. She heard his breath catch, but she ignored it. She ignored her own racing heart.
“All done,” she said, when she rubbed in the last bit of lotion.
“Want me to do you?” he asked.
She hesitated again, but she didn’t want to be sunburned for the performance.
“Thanks,” she said, turning around so her back was facing him, glad for a reason not to look at him.
His guitar-player fingers were strong as they kneaded her back. They moved from the skin below her shoulders to the skin above her waist, where bathing suit fabric started again. As he rubbed in the lotion, Emily felt a shiver run through her. This was the first time anyone other than Ezra had done this for her in years. Rob brought his hands to her sides, rubbing the last bits of lotion down her ribs to her waist. She felt cared for, precious.
He squeezed more sunscreen out of the bottle and leaned back to massage it onto her neck, her shoulders, down her arms, and then, his arms reaching around cradling her, his breath soft on her neck, he gently worked the sunscreen into the backs of her hands and down the length of each finger. She thought to say it was okay, he could stop, she could do this part, but her mouth wouldn’t form the words. She realized she’d closed her eyes, reveling in his touch. She felt lost in time and space.
When Rob pulled his hands away, she felt their absence. He lay down on the padded bench beside her. It was just wide enough for two. “Want to join?” Rob asked.
Emily lay down next to him, her whole body tuned to his. He shifted his arm, and she rested her head on his biceps.
“Comfortable?” he asked.
“Mm-hmm,” she said, closing her eyes, feeling the sun on her face, breathing the warm ocean air. They lay, inhaling and exhaling together.
“Do you think about it often?” Rob asked, softly.
“About what?” Emily asked.
“About . . . the baby we lost.”
She heard a seagull cawing and then opened her eyes to watch it dive down into the waves.
“I used to,” Emily said. “Every day. Less often now, but I still do. He—or she—would’ve been in seventh grade this year. Can you believe it?”
“That’s incredible,” Rob said, his arm tightening around her, rolling her head onto his chest.
“I know.” Emily closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep in the late-afternoon sun, dreaming about Rob, dreaming about their baby.
55
Back at the villa, Emily and Rob stood on the balcony, each with a cocktail. It was the calmest Emily had felt in days—in months, actually.
“I can’t believe this is real,” she said to him.
He looked at her. “Me neither,” he answered. Then he glanced back at the clock in the living room. “We’ve gotta get ready,” he said. “I’m gonna jump in the shower.”
Emily waited for the butterflies in her stomach. But they weren’t there. She was excited, but she wasn’t nervous. “Me too,” she said, and then clarified. “My own shower.”
Rob laughed. “I figured.”
* * *
—
Once Emily was dressed, she went back into her bathroom and applied the kind of stage makeup she used to wear. Thick eyeliner, three coats of mascara, foundation under powder under blush. The application came back to her just like the piano had. She dried her hair and looked at herself in the mirror. Instead of the thick braided crown she used to wear, she made four small braids, two at each temple, that she pulled back, leaving the rest of her hair loose and wavy.
“Want to meet me at the venue?” Rob called from the living room. “I should head over now.”
Emily walked out of the bathroom and shut off the light. “I’m ready,” she said, as she arrived in the living room.
“Are you ever,” Rob said, looking her up and down. “You look great.”
She smiled. “You too,” she told him. He had on jeans and a soft white V-neck T-shirt with his own pair of boots. Even the way he inhabited his clothes exuded confidence.
“Let’s go check out your keyboard. I gave Diana the backline specs, and I’m sure she found something perfect.”
“Let’s do it,” she said, wondering what Rob had specified.
The butterflies still weren’t there. Just excitement that pulsed with every beat of her heart.
56
That night, Emily watched most of Rob’s show from the wings with Diana. She