The Memory Playlist

Our House

Niki.
I wake up and take a first big breath in. I smell Andy but it isn't his skin. When I open my eyes I see that I'm over his pillow and that he isn't in bed with me, which is weird because I'm always the first one up. I look around the room to see if he's still here but it doesn't look like it. After stretching my limbs, I pull myself from the sheets and walk to the bathroom to check if he's in there. Not there either.

I walk by the guest room and check. Not there. I check the music room, not there. Not in the guest bathroom. I walk down the hallway and check. Not in the living room. Not the family room. Only place left is the kitchen, and upon a glance through the open wall he isn't there either. I look at the counter, which has a note and my favourite flavor of Arizona on it. The note reads,

"You were too cute to wake up. Went out to take care of some important things. Surprise when I come home. Have a good day in the studio.

~Andy <3"

Shit. I look up at the clock and see that it's nine thirty. I'm supposed to be there by ten. I hurry myself to get dressed, put my hair up, do basic make-up, and put shoes on. My Arizona helps me along the way and finally I'm out the door and on the way to the studio.

It isn't until almost seven when I get home. Between guitar problems and singing and the usual shenanigans we pull, I'm exhausted. Andy's car is in the garage as I park mine, so I know he's home.

Upon entrance, the Misfits are playing louder than per usual. When I walk into the kitchen and set my keys down I see Andy, yelling the lyrics, and stirring noodles. He's making the only thing he knows how: spaghetti.

I slide my arms around him from the side as he stirs. He smiles as he feels me and turns to hug me, and in doing so he lifts me off the ground. I smile and kiss him before he grabs the remote and turns down the volume to a dull roar. "I'm making you food," he says.

"But I like being me," I sarcastically pout.

He rolls his eyes and kisses me. "Since we missed eight..." He gestures towards the stove. "Nine months!"

I laugh and kiss his cheek. "Smells great, babe," I say. I steal an uncooked noodle from the package on the counter while Andy stirs the sauce.

He slides his arm around my waist. "You get your present later," he says.

I raise an eyebrow. "I wasn't aware that nine months constitute presents," I say.

"Under normal circumstances it doesn't," he says. "Today, it does."

"Is that my surprise?" I ask, taking off my jean jacket.

"Maybe," he says, dragging it out in a teasing tone.

I laugh and his cheek again. I grab a water out of the fridge and take a swig. "Almost done?" I ask.

"Done," he says. "Come and get it."

I smile and grab down two bowls. "Got your timing down," I say.

"I'm trying at least," he says. We start layering noodles with sauce and move over to the kitchen table. Dinner is casual and talkative. I talk all about my day and how the album is going, plus my super awesome lunch with Jason Flom and our producer. I also talk about Riot's little prank in putting a blanket inside the studio piano, effectively masking the strings that make the sound. It freaked us all out because it shouldn't be possible, but when I opened the piano I saw the blanket and just laughed it off.

Andy has hardly spoken, so when I'm done with my story I ask, "How'd your day go?" My foot rubs his under the table.

He smiles and finishes his bowl. "Time for your surprise, I guess," he says, sitting up. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and opens it, taps the screen several times, and hands the device to me.