Chapter 1
AG
We lay in bed later that day, frozen. I can’t say sorry enough. Nova’s eyes searched mine, the anger replaced with something more vulnerable. “I need some time, Artis,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “I need to figure this out.” Her words hit me like a ton of bricks, each syllable shattering the delicate hope that had begun to grow in my chest.
I nodded, my throat tight to hold back the tears. “Okay,” I managed to get out. “Okay, I understand.” And even though every fiber of my being screamed to hold her tight and never let go, I knew I had to give her the space she needed.
Her sniffles grew louder as she dressed, and each one felt like a dagger to my heart. She picked up her bag, and the sound of it zipping shut was like a final nail in the coffin of our love. I watched her walk out the door; the elevator dinged through the penthouse like a gunshot.
Once she was gone, the silence was deafening. I sat at the piano, my fingers hovering over the keys but unable to play a single note. The same sad melody that had filled the room earlier played in my head on a never-ending loop, a soundtrack to my regret.
I knew I had to do something, anything, to win her back. I couldn’t lose her. I had to show her that I was willing to do whatever it took to fix this, to prove that she was worth more to me than the bullshit that went down in LA. Against my better judgment, I reached out shortly after she left the penthouse. “Where will you be staying?” I typed, my heart racing with anticipation of her response. It took a moment, but finally, the words appeared on my screen: “The Luxe in Manhattan.”
Without hesitating, I called the hotel and spoke to the receptionist. “I need to book the presidential suite for Nova Ginn,” I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt. “For the entire week, and if she needs to stay longer, I’ll cover the bill.” The words came out in a rush, and I hoped she didn’t hear the desperation in my voice. The receptionist informed me that the bridal suite was the only high-end room available. So, I booked that one instead. My baby will appreciate a dressing room with an island and an oversized bathroom.
I waited for the confirmation email, my eyes never leaving the door she had just walked out of. When it finally arrived, I felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, this gesture would be the start of making things right between us. Maybe it would be the first step in rebuilding the trust that I had so carelessly destroyed.
The next few days were a blur of pain and regret. I threw myself into my work, but every beat, every lyric, was tainted by her memory. I couldn’t escape the thought of her in another man’s arms, the betrayal burning like hot coal in my chest.
I sat in studio 5, the silence so thick it was almost tangible. The room was dark, the only light coming from the glow of the mixing board. I hoped that the solace of music would help to dull the pain, but even the tracks we had created together now felt like a knife twisting in my heart. When the door opened and Nova walked in, my heart skipped a beat. She looked fresh, like a daisy that had just opened its petals to the morning sun. Her beauty starkly contrasted the darkness that had taken up residence in my soul.
Her eyes searched the room, landing on her chair. She didn’t speak, and neither did I. I could see the unshed tears glistening in her eyes, and I knew she was just as lost as I was. Without a word, I stood from her chair and moved to 7, giving her the space she needed. It felt like a mile between us, but I knew I had to respect her boundaries if I ever wanted to bridge that gap.
I threw myself into my work from home for days, crafting beats that echoed the tumultuous symphony of my emotions. Each bass drop was a thud of pain, and each melody a sigh of regret. Yet, I couldn’t let it consume me entirely. I had to show her that I was serious about changing and making this right. So, I sent her gifts—flowers so delicate they could only whisper an apology and jewelry that gleamed with the hope of a thousand-second chances.
The silence on her end was deafening, but when she didn’t reject them, it was like a spark had ignited in the black abyss that had swallowed my hope. Maybe she was still willing to listen. I waited with bated breath, my heart hammering out a rhythm that competed with the bass in my headphones. Each time my phone buzzed with a delivery notification, I felt a jolt of excitement and fear. Was she accepting them? Did they mean anything to her? Each day, I texted her whenever I felt the need. I didn’t care if she blocked me, “I love you so much,” “Please don’t give up on me,” and “I miss you, my love.”
Nova
Weeks had passed since my dramatic exit from Artis’s penthouse, but I’ve stuck to my guns. Despite the deep ache that consumed me, I hadn’t folded and gone back to him yet. His scent lingered on my skin, a constant reminder of what I was missing. I missed him badly, but the memory of his carelessness stung like a fresh wound nonetheless.
As the days grew longer, so did the nights without him. I found myself lying in the hotel suite, my body craving his touch. The suite was luxurious but a cold, empty cage without him. I was horny, more than I cared to admit, especially after the intense chemistry that almost ignited in 7 yesterday. I could feel the heat radiating off him, and all I wanted was for him to grab me up and force his dick into me; I wanted him to kiss me and caress my curves; I wanted him to claim me... like he owned me. But I remained strong, my resolve a fortress against my desires.
The silence from Artis was unnerving, but the occasional gifts he sent were like breadcrumbs, hinting that he was absolutely willing to chase me. Each bouquet of roses, each piece of jewelry, and article of designer clothing was a silent apology, a declaration of his love and his willingness to change. But I wasn’t going to be swayed easily. I had to make sure he understood the gravity of his actions and the depth of my hurt.
One night out on the balcony, I texted Romie, my co-worker at the studio and the only person I trusted to have my back in this situation. “Is Artis at the studio right now?” I typed, my thumb hovering over the send button for a moment before I hit it. The anticipation was agonizing, the seconds ticking by like hours. Finally, my phone buzzed with his response. “Yeah, he’s been sleeping here for the past 4-5 nights.” My heart skipped a beat. Was he really that torn up about us? Or was it just his pride that was bruised?
I decided to pay a surprise visit to his personal studio that evening. As I approached 7, I heard the faint thump of bass and the low murmur of Artis’s voice. My heart raced, and I took a deep breath to compose myself before pushing the door open. He was surrounded by sound equipment, his eyes bloodshot and his posture weary. The sight of him, so devoted to his craft, even in the throes of our turmoil, made my chest tighten with a mix of anger and admiration.
“Nova,” he said, his eyes widening as he saw me. He quickly turned off the music and faced me, his towering frame filling the room. “Hi, baby,” he said gently. My heart ached.
“I needed to talk,” I replied, my voice firm and steady. And apparently, you’ve been spending more time here than at home.”
He sighed, running a hand through his dreads. “You know how it is when I’m working on new material. The inspiration hits, and I can’t ignore it.”
“But you’ve been ignoring me,” I countered, the words escaping before I could hold them back.
He took a step closer, his eyes searching mine. He shook his head vigorously. “You’re the only thing on my mind, baby. You’re all I can think about; I gave you the time you asked for.”
The sincerity in his voice washed over me like a warm wave, but I couldn’t let it drown me. “Words don’t mean anything unless they come with action, Artis.”
He nodded, his gaze never leaving mine. “I know. And I’m going to show you that I’m worthy of your love. I’ll do whatever it takes to earn back your trust.”
My heart softened, but the walls remained firmly in place. “I want to believe you,” I whispered; he kissed me, a long lingering kiss, he followed up with soft peppered kisses on my chin, cheeks, and nose. “I’m yours, Nova.”
He searched my eyes and cupped my cheek..his skin was so warm. I couldn’t help but lean into his touch. “I know I messed up,” he began, my voice thick with regret. “And I don’t expect you to forgive me right now, but I need you to know I love you. I’ve never loved anyone like I love you; my life is complete shit without you, baby; please come home.”
The tears that were brimming my eyes spilled over my cheeks, and he gently wiped them away. “Please.. don’t cry, baby.” He choked out. He stepped closer to me, our bodies physically touching after nearly a month.
I searched his face, looking for any hint of insincerity, but all I found was the raw, naked truth. I could see the pain in his eyes, but I didn’t push him away. He just looked at me. I was convinced our souls were having a conversation. We gazed into each other’s eyes for so long. My chin quivered as I fought back another sob. “Artis, you hurt me.” I managed to choke out.
“I know, baby, and I am truly sorry,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. And I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you if you just give me the chance.”
Gently, he tilted my chin up, forcing me to meet his gaze. His anthracite eyes were pools of liquid, and he tried to fight back tears. He leaned down and kissed each one of mine away, tasting the salt of my sorrow. Then he kissed my nose, an intimate and familiar gesture that made my chest ache with longing. I closed my eyes, and for a moment, it was just us again, lost in the world we created.
