Angie, a live-in-the-now singer-songwriter on the cusp of fame, sweeps Mike, a proper Mama's boy and a structural engineer by day, off his feet the moment they shake hands.
They can't deny the chemistry between them, so they start with a boom. What'...
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▪️Monday, March 22nd, 2018▪️
▪️Chicago, IL▪️
The lights of Chicago sparkle in the darkness underneath as the plane leans to take me to the airport. Ten days in France with Amelie flew by. The moment we saw each other, it was as if the three and a half months apart didn't happen. The walls of the friendship we built over the years are strong enough to withstand much harsher conditions. My heart swells with the love for and from my friend-the antidote to loneliness that I relied on for the most difficult period in my life.
Celebrating her father's one-year death anniversary reinforced my decision to allow myself to imagine a future, to not be scared anymore. Amelie's dad was one of those pivotal people in my life who directed me away from the ledge, from the abyss of despair I was about to jump off. He pushed and pulled and showed me that I loved more than the piano. That I loved the music. That I have music inside, and my job, my duty to this world is to get it out and share.
I take a selfie and capture the view from my window. Even after I announced that I'm not going to be performing in any foreseeable future after I finished my tour with The Whats the number of my followers didn't go down. People still wanted to hear from me and learn about my songwriting journey. The snippets of my songs get more views every day, and my calendar for the year is mostly full.
I might be the new it girl in the songwriting business. While I was eating cheese and stuffing myself with every type of bread and pastry I could lay my hands on, the single for the new album I wrote with The Whats hit number one. Many doors opened and Jason has been in nonstop meetings accepting and declining offers to write for other artists.
Passport control takes no time at all. We're probably one of the last flights to arrive this late in the evening. I collect my suitcases, and the sliding doors to the arrival area open. Mike waves with the hand that is not holding a giant sign screaming "Kiss Your Boyfriend" with an arrow pointing his way. I run over to him before anyone else decides to follow the instructions on the board and claim him.
The suitcases wobble behind me and fall the moment I let go to wrap my hand around Mike's neck. "Hi, boyfriend."
He hoists me closer to his mouth, and I pretend we are in the romantic movie where an extra-long lingering kiss is exactly what the audience wants, because that's exactly what I want. The link between us withstood the separation by the ocean, even though I had to hide in Amelie's bathroom when I needed to have the hotter versions of our conversations.
"You can get more of it when we get out of here," Mike whispers. "A lot more."
I let go of his neck, grab his arm, and tug him forward.
"Suitcases," he protests. He tries to let go of me to pick them up.
"One each?" I don't let him escape me, and we walk down the hallways like a giant staple taking up too much of the walking space and not caring in the slightest.
