I shrug. “Where do you want to go?”
She grabs her phone while I’m putting on my shirt and she texts me.
Sydney: Would it be weird if we went back to that diner?
I try to recall a diner that we’ve been to, but the only one I can think of that she might be referring to is the one I took her to the first night we met in person. It was her birthday, and I felt bad that her day was so shitty, so I took her for cake.
Ridge: The one close to my apartment?
She nods.
Ridge: Why would that be weird?
Sydney: Because. It was the first night we met. And maybe going there on our first date would be sort of celebrating that moment.
Ridge: Sydney Blake. You have got to forgive yourself for falling in love with me. We’ve shared a lot of chapters that don’t need to be torn out of our book, simply because there are things in them you don’t like. It’s part of our story. Every single sentence counts toward our happy ending, good or bad.
Sydney reads my text and then slides her phone in her pocket like dinner is solidified thanks to that last text. She signs the next thing she says. “Thank you. That was beautiful. Bridge. Cloud. Pimple.”
I laugh. “Was that supposed to be a real sentence?”
Sydney shakes her head. “I don’t know how to sign a lot of words yet. I decided I’m just going to make random words up when I don’t know how to sign what I really want to say.”
I motion for her to get her phone out of her pocket.
Ridge: You said bridge, cloud, and pimple. LOL. What were you trying to sign?
Sydney: I didn’t know how to sign that you are getting so lucky after this date tonight.
I laugh and wrap my arm around her, pulling her until her forehead meets my lips. Damn, I cannot get enough of my girl. I also can’t get enough of the bridge, cloud, pimple.
•••
We drove Sydney’s car to my apartment because I didn’t have my car, and we can’t walk to the diner from her apartment like we could from mine. She insisted we walk like we did the last time we came here. Sydney ordered breakfast for dinner, but she also ate half my onion rings and three bites of my burger.
We decided to play twenty questions during dinner, so we used our phones instead of signing because it was hard to do that and eat at the same time. In the forty-five minutes we’ve been here, I haven’t thought about my fight with Maggie. I haven’t thought about how behind on work I am. I haven’t even thought about that damn Game of Thrones spoiler. When I’m with Sydney like this, her presence absorbs all the bad parts of my day, and I find it so easy to concentrate on her and only her.
Until Brennan appears.
Now, I’m concentrating on Brennan as he slides into the booth next to Sydney and reaches across the table for my last onion ring.
“Hi.” He pops the onion ring into his mouth, and I lean back in my seat, wondering what the hell he’s doing here. Not that I mind. But it is our first official date, and I’m confused why he’s crashing it.
“What are you doing here?” I sign.
Brennan shrugs. “I don’t have anything scheduled tonight. I was bored and went to your apartment, but you weren’t home.”
“But how did you know we were here?”
“The app,” he says, pulling my soda to him and taking a drink. I give him a look that lets him know I have no idea what he’s talking about.
“You know,” he says. “Those apps you can use to track people’s phones. I track yours all the time.”
What the hell? “But you have to set that app up with my phone.”
Brennan nods. “I did like a year ago. I know where you are all the time.”
That actually explains a lot. “That’s weird, Brennan.”
He leans back in his seat. “No, it isn’t. You’re my brother.” He looks at Sydney. “Hi. Nice to see you fully clothed.”
I kick him under the table and he just laughs, then folds his arms over the table and speaks his next sentence. “You feel like writing something tonight?”
I shake my head. “I’m on a date with my girlfriend.”
Brennan’s shoulder’s slump, and he falls back against the booth. Sydney looks back and forth between me and Brennan.
“A song?” she says. “You want to write a song tonight?”
Brennan shrugs. “Why not? I need more material and I’m in the mood. My guitar is in my car.”
Sydney perks up and starts nodding. “Please, Ridge? I want to watch you two write a song.”
Brennan nods. “Please, Ridge?”
Brennan’s begging does nothing to change my mind, but that’s only because Sydney’s begging already changed it. Besides, the whole time I’ve been on this date with Sydney, song lyrics have been swirling around in my head. Better to get them out now while I’m feeling it.
I pay the check, and we go outside to head back to the apartment, but Brennan points across the street at a park. He runs to his car and retrieves his guitar and stuff to write with. The three of us walk over to the park and find two benches across from each other. Brennan sits on one, and Sydney and I sit on the other.
Brennan turns his guitar over and presses the notepad to it. He writes on it for a few minutes and then hands it over to me. He’s written out the music to a chorus he’s working on, but there are no lyrics. I spend several minutes studying it. I can see Brennan and Sydney having a conversation while I look over the music and try to figure out how to add the first line of the chorus. He signs the first part of the conversation, but when he sees I’m not paying attention to either of them, he stops signing and they continue the conversation. I like that they’re holding a conversation without me. It’s not like the conversations people have where they forget to sign for me. It’s just a conversation they’re having because they know I need a while to focus on this song.
I think back to mine and Sydney’s conversation from earlier, and how she expressed a fear that I would someday take Maggie back because I want to fix everything going wrong in Maggie’s life. I try to work that into a couple of sentences, but nothing sticks. I close my eyes and try to recall the exact words I said to her.
“I would be broken without you. Then who would fix me?”
I read that sentence over and over again. “Who would fix me?”
This is how I sometimes build a foundation for my lyrics. I think of a person. I think of a conversation with that person, or a thought I have about that person. And then I ask myself a question about that thought, then build a line of lyrics around the answer.
So…who would fix me? The only person who could mend my shattered heart would be Sydney.
I find my sweet spot in that answer and write down the lyric, “You’re the only one who fixes me.”
I tap my pencil on the page in the tempo of the music that Brennan wrote out for me. Brennan picks up his guitar and watches my pencil, then starts to play. I can see Sydney out of the corner of my eye as she pulls her knees up on the bench and wraps her arms around them, watching us. I look at her for a moment, waiting for thoughts of her to inspire another line. What do I want her to know when she hears this song?
I write down several sentences in no particular order, and none of them rhyme, but they all remind me of Sydney. I’ll build around them in a moment and make each of them into verses. I just need to get out the basic things I’m thinking.
“There was a truth in you from the start.”
“I think you’re pretty when you speak.”
“I bring the mess and you bring the clean.”
“Time will come and you will see. You’re the only one who fixes me.”
I look up from the page, and Brennan is still playing, working through the tempo of the song that I just laid his chorus out to. Sydney is watching me, smiling. It’s all I need to finish the lyrics. I move to the bench with Brennan and show him the lyrics, matched up with his chorus. He starts tweaking it while I finish the lyrics.
Almost an hour later, we have a comple
te song. It’s the fastest the two of us have ever written together. Brennan hasn’t sung any of the lyrics out loud yet for her, so I move to the bench with her and pull her against me before he plays her the full song. He begins strumming his guitar, and she wraps an arm around me, leaning her head against my shoulder.
Wake up early, go to bed late
That’s what I do, that’s my mistake
Tell me something and I forget
I’m not perfect, I’m far from it
I’m out the door 15 too late
Thinking I’m early, but I make you wait
Don’t wash my dishes for a week
But I think you’re pretty when you speak
Ask around, you’ll figure out
You’re the one I’m thinking ‘bout
Time will come and you will see
You’re the only one who fixes me
You’re the only one who fixes me
I bring the mess and you bring the clean
I think you’re funny when you’re mean
There was a truth in you from the start
And nothing can break this hold on my heart