Some moments feel like home. It doesn't matter where you are, but the company instantly fills you with a warmth that clings to the memory. It's the minor parts of the moment that make the recollection so vivid: Billy standing in his socks in front of his living room turntable murmuring to himself as the fireplace roared behind him, the feeling of the knit blanket against my cheek as I pulled it up high enough to hide my smile, the smell of oranges that always seemed to float through Billy's farmhouse.

"This isn't your song," I teased from beneath the blanket.

"It's not?" He cocked an eyebrow at me as his socked feet slipped across the hardwood floor.

"Last I checked, you weren't a member of Simple Minds."

"I'll make a call." His eyes gleamed at me as he held out a hand to me. "After all, I have the Scot complexion." As he spoke, the room swished past me as he pulled me to his side. "How long has it been since I told you how much I love you?"

"You love me?"

"Don't be mean," he teased as he twirled me to the music.

"My turn." I slipped away when the song wound down and plugged my phone into the dangling Aux cable. "I used to listen to this when I missed you."

"I'm intrigued." He moved close behind me and rested his head on my shoulder as I thumbed through songs.

"The Sonics, man, I haven't heard this song in forever."

"I love this song. I think this song made my daddy know he was in trouble." As I spoke, I spun in Billy's arms to face him.

"You trouble?" A boyish twitch of his lips pulled a giggle from my lips.

"Yeah, I think he was worried I'd run off with some musician I met in a dive club."

"Oh, if he only knew."

"I know. If you only knew." Billy twirled me again before picking me up. I wrapped my legs around him as he sang along to the music. "I'm covering this. Great song."

"Okay, now we focus."

"I'm focused." Billy let his gaze wash over me, sending a fiery surge through me that momentarily made me lose all sense.

"Not that kind of focus," I shot back as I slid his third solo album on the turntable and dropped the needle.

We fell to the couch and sat cross-legged, facing each other.

"I feel like I'm in Sixteen Candles, except we aren't on a table, and there's no cake." I smiled.

"So, how are we in Sixteen Candles?"

"I guess I just feel like I'm sixteen," I laughed.

"Why did you pick this one?" Billy's tone fell lower, accenting his serious curiosity.

"Because I didn't know you."

He let out a stifled laugh. "You knew me, Lil."

"It feels different, though. I don't feel like I know you in it."

"Mmhmm, the music came first. I just had these melodies. I honestly didn't know if I'd ever get lyrics down for any of it." He listened briefly before adding, "I think I may have been a bit confused when this all fell out."

"You think?"

"I honestly don't remember the songs in my head for this one. I booked the studio for five days and committed to producing something."

"You scheduled a studio having no songs?"

"I work best under pressure." He leaned his forehead against mine as though his process for creating incredible music was like writing a grocery list.

"Noted," I murmured.

"That's my line, Lil." He lifted his lips to my forehead. "Do you like it?"

"I do. It's hard to get bored when you go all over the place. I mean, you've got that in-your-face rock and roll, but there's punk, doo-wop, garage funk. I like it."

"Is this your favorite?"

"No, I don't have a favorite. I like them all." I sighed and let my mind wander. "I want to see you play live."

Billy pulled back in feigned shock. "You want to what?"

"I'm kinda a superfan now. I wasn't kidding. I love your music." I twisted to fall into his lap and looked up from the pillow of his thighs. "I still have to admit that it feels like two people warring with each other. I know this is you, and I feel you in it, but it is hard for me to reconcile that you are this amazing rockstar because you feel more like Billy. You know, like cheesy dad-joke dad, mama's boy, sarcastic friend...."

"Mmhmm, but what am I to you?"

"Everything."

"No pressure there." He pulled me up his body as he fell back on the couch, so I blanketed him.

"I hear you're good under pressure." I burrowed my face into him as his hands circled me.

His chest rose with a heavy breath and then released.

"What?" I propped my chin on his chest.

"Everything." He whispered as he tucked a tendril of my hair behind my ear. "Do you want to see me live?"

"Of course, I want to meet the rock star."

"The rock star is me, Lil. You may be disappointed."

"You could never disappoint me." I let my fingers glide over the contours of the back of his hand as I spoke.

"I have a tour coming up." His voice was as quiet as a whisper and filled with tension.

"I know two weeks on, two weeks off; you mentioned it last night." My mind whirled to the thought of two weeks apart from Billy, but I pushed it aside and focused on Billy. "Tell me about Sarah."

He tensed at my prodding, causing me to lift my eyes to him.

"Tell me about Sarah," I urged again, trying to keep my voice even.

"She..." but he stopped himself.

"Billy, talk to me. What's going on?"

"She filed to contest the custody agreement when she heard I was touring again." Exhaustion filled his voice. "She won't win; she never wins."

"Then why does she file?"

"She wants to move to Memphis." He sat up, causing me to spill away from him.

"Hey," I said as I grabbed his hand. His eyes snapped to me unexpectedly. "Talk to me."

He let out a sigh. "She knows she won't win. I think she wants me to look bad or be annoying enough that I'll stop fighting."

"Why would she try to make you look bad? Do people read into her constant filings?"

"Honestly, I don't care what people think. I only care what Jackson thinks." His hand heavily fell to my hip.

"Jackson? Why would it affect what Jackson thinks?"

"I don't know if it does; it's probably just me being paranoid. I'm just afraid that he thinks I'm choosing my work over him when I go on tour." Billy's lips pursed at the bitter admission.

"Why just Jackson? What about Viv?"

"Viv talks to me. I've asked her. She knows she comes first; she knows Jackson comes first."

"So, just ask Jackson."

"Things are different with Jackson. I just..."

"What?"

"I don't know. I feel like Sarah has his ear more, and sometimes he looks at me like I'm a bad guy. The kids are getting older now and..."

"What?" I pressed.

"What if he chooses her?" His face dropped to his hands as his fingers plunged through his hair.

"No one is perfect, and kids see the bad and the good moments. I know he loves you and wants you to be proud of him."

"Wants me to be proud of him?"

"Yeah, he values your opinion."

Billy sat up further as urgency surged through him. "What do you mean wants? I'm proud of him."

"Hey." I let my hand slip into his hair and brushed it from his eyes. "He knows you're proud of him; I didn't mean he didn't know that. I mean, he cares what you think, more than you probably realize."

"Does he?"

"Yeah." I felt my thought cut off abruptly.

"What aren't you telling me?"

"He asked me not to tell you...." I had never kept anything from Billy, and now I realized why.

"My son asked you not to tell me something? When? When did you spend time with him?" He spat the word out with a bitter accent.

"I didn't spend time with him. He was in my office at the family dinner. It was just a passing conversation."

"A passing conversation that you kept from me?" A twitch soared through his body that tensed his muscles and felt damn near anger. His hands coursed through his hair, painfully tugging on tendrils.

"I didn't keep it from you." I let out a breath to diffuse my mounting frustration. "You used to play Simple Man for him when he was little."

"Yeah." Billy's eyes softened. "He told you that."

"He played a bit for me," I murmured, knowing I was betraying Jackson.

Billy nodded slightly. "I didn't realize that album was at Mom's."

"It's not; he played it for me... on his guitar.

"Come again?" Billy's eyes snapped to me.

"I was looking for a quiet place, so I hid in my office, but he was there. Before I opened the door, I thought it was you. But it was him."

Billy shot off the couch as a hand dove deeper into his hair. "He played it for you?" His words came as fast as a bullet.

"He's good, Billy. He didn't learn from sheet music. You remember the kalimba and how you plucked out Mister Sandman. He has a lot of you in him."

Billy's eyes shot to me. "He plays guitar." He fell next to me on the couch and grabbed my hand. "He plays like me? Jackson plays like me... He's a musician." There was a welling in Billy's eyes that he didn't mask.

"Yeah," I tried to bite back my smile. "But he doesn't want you to know."

"What? Why? We could play together. I could show him some tricks I've learned. We could record something."

"That, Billy. That's why he doesn't want you to know, not yet."

"What? He doesn't want to play with me?"

"No," I let out a laugh. "He's afraid of the pressure."

"Pressure? What pressure?"

"I'm pretty sure this pressure," I said as I waved my hands in front of his face.

"This isn't pressure; it's excitement." Billy sat back, trying to play it cool and failing miserably. "I can't wait to see him play," he added almost to himself.

"Yes, except you don't know he plays. He'll come to you when he is ready."

"Fuck," Billy bristled at his annoyance.

I let out a chuckle and nestled into his side as he slung an arm around me. "Remember when I was in college, and Sam found out about you and dumped me?"

"Of course, I felt terrible." His thoughts of Jackson distracted his words.

"You cast a long shadow. It affects people in their own way. You can't force them to react how you want; you have to let them be who they are."

Billy let out a sigh. "Yeah, I hear you," he acknowledged. "That day we spent together in that hotel, that's when I knew..." His words dropped out as he got lost in his thoughts.

"That's when you knew what?"

"That your happiness was more important than mine." He leaned in to kiss the top of my head again, but I jerked away from him.

"What?"

"To me; did I say to me?" His eyes were wide.

"No, and that doesn't make it better."

"It makes it better. If I can't mold how I affect people, you can't tell me how you affect me. I'm people, Lil. I get to react to you however I want."

"That's very different," I argued. "My happiness isn't more important than yours."

"To me, it is. You can't get mad at me for that."

"I absolutely can. Your happiness is just as important as mine if not...."

Billy's eyes twinkled as he caught my slip. "If not what, Lil? If not more important? It's okay for you to weigh my happiness over yours, but not the other way around?"

"No, our happiness, it's our happiness. They're equal." I flung myself deeper into the couch with such force that it bounced me back out a bit.

"Mmhmm, I think that's two squabbles I've now won."

"Yeah, well, your son will play guitar for me," I angrily shot.

"Wow, not going to lie, Lil. A few lines were crossed there."

I knew it was wrong to throw in his face, but I also didn't like to lose an argument.

"Lil?" He tucked a piece of hair behind my ear as he said my name. "Lil, I love you, and your happiness has always been a driving factor in my life. I won't apologize for that, so please don't be mad at me."

I sucked in a large breath, trying to stifle the annoyance of him being sweet and right. "My happiness shouldn't mean your unhappiness," I managed as I met his eyes.

"Agreed." He pulled me to his chest.

"Billy, would it be distracting if I toured with you?" It came out of nowhere, spilling from me like a tipping water glass.

"Very," he murmured as he kissed the back of my hand.

"Oh, okay; never mind." I slumped dejectedly into his side.

"Why do you ask?"

"No reason. It's not important." My mind whirled over going with him, working from hotel rooms and bus hotspots, running on next to no sleep as I went from work to concerts, and living from a suitcase. All the reasons it'd never work swirled in my head, but at the center was Billy. If I weren't a distraction, I could go with him, and it'd be worth it.

"I didn't ask if it was important; I asked why you asked?"

"It was a silly thought." I shook my head into his shoulder, trying to hide my face from him. His scan would reveal my thoughts.

"Lil, I know you'll miss me; I'll miss you too, but we'll make it work. I'll be back every two weeks, and we'll talk daily." He spoke to himself as much as to me.

"I could come with you...." I tentatively said.

"I know it'll be hard, but... Wait, what?" He pulled my face to his with a lone finger on my chin.

"I could travel with you if I'm not a bother," I offered again.

"Since when have you ever been concerned with being a bother, and what on earth would make you think coming with me would be classified as one? All I've ever wanted for twenty years was you by my side?" There was a level of frustration in his voice.

"You just said I'd be a distraction if I came with you?"

"Sweetheart, you'll be a distraction wherever the hell you are. You've distracted me since I laid eyes on you."

"So..."

"How would that work? You can't have two months of vacation time. Can you?" His brows furrowed as he thought about logistics. It was cute and pulled a laugh from me. "Are you laughing at me?"

"Maybe a little," I teased.

"You can be incredibly belittling. I'm trying to figure out logistics here, and you're laughing at me."

"Well, I'm curious about the plan you come up with. Clearly, between an IT professional and a rockstar, the rockstar will develop a better remote work plan."

"That's literally the definition of belittling."

"I don't tell you how to write a song," I shot.

"Yet... you don't tell me how to write songs yet. I give it two... three days, tops."

"I mean, you could be a little less grim," I offered.

He just shook his head in response before adding, "okay, so you tell me how this will work."

"The internet is an amazing thing. As long you don't find the only hotel in the world without wi-fi, I should be okay."

"And what about the days we're on the bus, Ms. Smarty-pants?"

"Smarty-pants? Really? Are you four?"

"Last I checked, I was at least eight."

"Have you ever heard of a hot spot?"

"So belittling," he scolded again.

"That was a fair question!"

"Yes, I've heard of a hot spot. I just didn't immediately think of them as being a solution." Billy tightened his grip on me, pulling me closer to his chest.

"You seem annoyed. Do you not want me to come with you?"

"You know I want you to come with me. Didn't I mention that I've always wanted you to come with me?"

"Okay, so it's settled... in a rather argumentative manner." I let annoyance fill my voice.

"Hey, I'm sorry. When I think of touring, I get...."

"You don't like to tour anymore?" I pulled myself over to Billy, so I was sitting on his knees facing him.

"No, well, yes. I love to play live; there's nothing like it, but the actual travel part isn't the best. I don't like to be away from the family and... Sarah... she always..." I could feel the contempt flood Billy's voice as his fingers dug into my thighs.

"... the mother of your children," I finished for him.

His eyes bore into mine for a moment with something suspiciously close to bubbling rage. "Don't, Lil," he murmured as he dumped me off his lap.

"Billy," I called after him as he heaved himself off the couch.

"Let's talk about something else," he grumbled as he moved to the record player and flipped mindlessly through the albums. He settled on Gene Vincent, but even the jovial tune didn't dissuade tension from tightening his shoulders.

"Hey," I whispered as I got up and crossed to him. "It's okay." I let my hand glide over his arm as our eyes met.

"You just don't know..." He shook the thought out of his mind before adding, "dance with me, Lil."

He pulled me close to him as one hand fell low on my back. He let his other linger mid-air until I grasped it, and then he folded it into his chest.

"I'm sorry," he murmured into my neck as he clung to me.

"Don't be," I whispered back as I lifted a hand to cradle his head. "Just know that if you want to talk about it, I'm here... always."

Billy picked me up in one swift movement and fell to the couch with me nestled on his lap. His heart was beating erratically as my head dropped to his chest. His stubble clung to the strains of my hair as he rested his chin on the crown of my head. The pounding of his heart mingled with the music playing while he ran his fingers through my hair. I was home. There was no tugging to worry or doubt. The only discomfort I felt was what he held back and the thought of not staying in his arms when the kids were home.

"I'm going to miss you tomorrow night," he whispered before kissing my head.

"How do you do that?" I propped my head back on his chest to meet his eyes.

"Do what?" A toying smile spread across his lips, revealing his dimples.

"Read my mind?"

A warm laugh erupted from his chest. "Maybe we just think the same."

I sighed and snuggled into his chest again, letting my mind wander to how warm and comfortable it was tangled in him.

"I thought I knew how much I missed you, but now that I'm in your arms...." My words fell off as the loneliness of the past ten years ebbed in a bit, cooling the moment's warmth.

"I'm here now; you never have to miss me again."

"I'll miss you tomorrow and the next night."

"And then I'll be holding you again," he reminded me.

"I'm a lucky girl. I can't believe how much you love me."

"You don't believe me?" He pulled me up to inspect my face again.

"I do. I know you mean it. I just..." I let out a laugh. "I don't understand why? I mean, even if I hadn't broken your heart about a million times, why me? You've dated actresses and models."

"Mmhmm, and a bartender, a fast-food drive-thru girl, oh, and a private school history teacher..."

"You dated a fast-food drive-thru girl?"

"Mmhmm, I was sixteen, and she gave me free malts."

"Why did you ever leave her?"

"She dumped me for the fry cook. This is life." He shrugged. "You don't get to choose whom you love. You just hope they love you back."

"I love you back."

"That's what they all say until the fry cook rolls up in a tricked-out Jetta."

"Woah, there's a tricked-out Jetta involved, never mind. Where is this Romeo?"

He let out a snort of a laugh. "But hey, can you not question my love?"

I shyly met his gaze.

"You can question pretty much anything else, but don't question how much or why I love you. I love you, that's it. There doesn't need to be any other discussion." Billy's voice sounded like the slamming of a book shut.

"And I love you."

"Case closed," he nodded.

"Case closed," I agreed.