KIM
“What are you doing?” Devlin asked from the doorway.
“Just going through some of these boxes. Deciding what to keep.” I sat back on my heels, where I’d been kneeling.
“Why do you sound sad?” He was at my side, pulling the shoebox out of my hand. He brushed back my hair to kiss my temple.
“I’m not sad. Sentimental, I guess. It’s my curse.” I sighed dramatically.
“I can’t believe you kept all these.” He flipped through the old notes with tender care.
“I couldn’t quite bring myself to get rid of them.”
“I like that about you. It makes me happy that they meant so much to you.” He held my gaze, a small furrow between his brows. “Want to hear a joke?”
“Always.”
“What did one musician say to the other?” he asked.
“What?”
“Nothing. He left a note.”
I snorted a laugh. “Terrible. I love it.”
He gently turned my face back to his. “Tell me why you’re sad.”
“I’m not sad.” I nestled into his hand. “I’m happier than I have ever been. It’s just hard not to think about the what-ifs. What if I’d sought out who sent the notes? What if you’d told me? Imagine if we’d met before I ever even met Roddy?”
His face hardened before relaxing into a sad smile. “It wasn’t our time.”
“I can’t believe he lied to me about sending them, and for so long. I can’t believe I trusted him.”
“Why would you have any reason not to trust him? There’s nothing wrong with trusting people you care about. It’s not your fault he turned out to be…”
“Just the worst.” I shuddered.
He scowled. “I never trusted him. Even back then.”
“Well, you were right.” I sat back on my palms when my legs started going numb.
“Speaking of—apparently, his parents are in some financial trouble. That was why he pushed so hard for the tour. He was living beyond his means. His business is screwed. Markus Savagno and Caroline Tetch have both dropped him.”
“Really? I was wondering why the check I got came from his parents.” I wasn’t surprised. Not really—you could only be two-faced for so long until people caught on. “He all but told me he was the reason Carla missed that performance. The one that got me my first solo.”
“Scumbag,” he grumbled.
“I was so willfully blind to it …”
“Hey, stop. If these notes are going to upset you, you shouldn’t read through them.”
“I just think about all the time wasted.”
He grabbed me and pulled me into his arms. “You know we can’t think that way. Everything that led us to this moment was worth it. If I had to stay away a hundred years just for five minutes of your time, I’d take whatever I could get.”
My heart fluttered in my chest. “Thankfully, we have all the time in the world now.”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too. Thanks for cheering me up.”
“Always.” He grinned. He lowered his head to kiss the area behind my ear that was quickly becoming my favorite spot. “Then I get to do this.”
“Hmm. I also like this.” We kissed deeper.
Our hands roamed each other’s bodies greedily. Soon we were on the floor, mostly naked. He slid into me and I gasped. We panted and ground against each other. Every time was better than the last.
“Why can we never make it to a bed?” I asked a few minutes later, now dressed and under control.
“Beds are overrated.”
He helped me to stand and we looked at all the boxes still stacked in his foyer.
“We better get going. Or we will be very late. We can finish unpacking your stuff later.”
“Screw unpacking, I want to do that again.”
“I could handle that.”
His eyes drifted to the box of notes, half spilled from our fooling around.
“What’s this?” he asked handing me one of the notes.
“That’s the note you sent while I was in rehab.”
“I didn’t send you a note in rehab. I was already on tour and I didn’t know about all that until later.”
I blinked at him in surprise. “Really?”
“Really,” he said.
We bent our heads to read the note, now seeing noticeably different handwriting. “Just keep playing.”
“I’d just assumed it was you. Well, the author of the notes.”
He shook his head.
“Huh.” I shoved the notes away. “Not important. Let’s get going. We need to tell Andy-Dick about our plans.”
“I regret telling you I called them that,” he said.
“It’s hilarious. They’re all right though. At least they love our idea for a Christine Day/Erik Jones concert.”
“Of course they do—it’ll sell out in minutes.” He squeezed my hand. “I had an idea. What if we donate all of our portion of the proceeds to help teens who have gotten addicted to drugs? Help them get on a better path.”
My heart swelled in my chest. Just when I didn’t think I could possibly love him more. “Genius. I know Ford has a lot of connections for just that sort of thing. I’ll text Suzie tonight. My rehab changed my life, but not everybody can afford that level of personalized help.”
He kissed my forehead.
“It’ll be so weird to perform as them now,” I said.
“People love a good love story. Plus, they’re just our stage names. Not who we are. It helps to keep it separate. Being on stage with you is all that counts.”
“Ditto.” I held his face and looked deep into his eyes. “You know, none of that mattered to me. Your big tough guy act, the pop star background. Everything I love about you, is you.”
“Once I understood that, none of the other stuff mattered to me either. Thank you for loving me.”
I hugged him before he slid into his leather coat. “Mmm. You smell good,” I said.
“The weather is perfect.” He glanced out an open window.
“Let’s take the bike then.” I grabbed my own jacket as I tugged him along.
“Really?” He let me pull him outside and into the garage.
“Yes. I miss it.”
He gave me a look before handing me a helmet. “Let’s go, beautiful.” He winked at me and I felt sixteen again. But in the good way.
I straddled the back of the bike and wrapped my arms tightly around him. It vibrated to life with a roar.
“Ready?” He turned to yell at me.
“I’m so ready.”
He squeezed my thigh. We headed down the driveway and soon were on the mountain roads. The wind whipped my skin and the sun warmed me. I was fully alive. I rested my head on his back and smiled.
My life was just beginning.
THE END