Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 71698 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71698 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
The weight of her voice says I need to just shut it and listen because this is going to be beyond good. It’s going to be epic.
“The songs. I know I wrote them for you. Every single one is about you. They’re all the poetry and passion from my soul to yours. They can stay unrecorded or recorded and unheard forever. You can put them out on your own in a few months, a few years, or never. I’d be okay with that. They’re yours, and I mean that.”
She only pulls back so I can see how fierce her face is. She’s fighting for us in a way that I haven’t even determined yet, but it’s playing out right in front of me, and it’s astounding. Watching her mind work is one of the most fascinating things I’ve ever done, and I’m here, the luckiest man in the world, with a front-row seat.
“You said, sort of in passing, that you’d maybe like to start your own label. Or did I say that? I can’t even remember. It’s all blurring together in an overwhelming but awesome way.” She clenches her eyes shut tight, like whatever this is, it’s too epic to say it with them open.
Following her lead, I close mine too, so the room disappears, and it’s just her body on mine. One of her hands rests on my shoulder while the other cups my face. The floral scent of her hair and the salty musk of our sweat blend together, and it’s not a combination I’d ever be willing to share with anyone else if I didn’t have to. That’s why I booked us an out-of-the-way studio and a tiny little house. So we could have this together.
Time. Memories. And the start of something that’s sort of been going on for years.
“If you do want to start your own label, and you can sign bands or individual singers without it being an issue with your label and life, it might be nice to give the songs away. If someone else wants them, and you think it’s a good fit, let them sing the songs. Let them put the songs out in the world. Let them make the songs their own. Rewrite it so it fits straight into their voice and their heart. Only if they want it.” She wriggles in my lap, waking my cock right back up with the motion she never meant to be sensual. “Do you think it’s a terrible idea?”
My eyes pop open.
She winces.
“I think it’s a great idea. I’d like to keep some for us, but there are plenty, and it feels right to share them. Not just right, but epic. If I haven’t told you that you’re brilliant, can I do so now?”
She laughs. “You’ve told me plenty.” The best part about being this close to her face is watching a soft blush spread up her neck and settle on her cheeks.
I lied. That’s the second-best part. The best part is being close enough to fully wrap my arms around her and kiss her. It’s the way her smile is so massive that her dimple appears. As well as the nervous habit she has of tucking her hair behind her ear so the little moon stud appears, and the tiny little maybe was once a gill hole becomes visible.
“Can I tell you in other ways?”
She laughs again, squirming against me. “Only if you take those pants off this time.”
I launch into a kiss that leaves her breathless. “Deal.”
Chapter fifteen
Carissa
Epilogue
It’s hard for me to believe I was so worried about navigating the world that I almost gave up on the love of my life. I always loved Wilder, but I was just about ready to be content with breaking my heart and setting him free.
Half a year later, I can’t believe I ever thought that would work.
I spent years telling myself he couldn’t be mine, our worlds were too different, it wouldn’t work because we wanted different things, and that the age gap was too much. I had to put distance between us because of my job, but there was never any real belief that anything could ever exist in the real world.
Sometimes I feel like I’m still dreaming.
Like this morning, when I woke up with Wilder right beside me in my bed, Pumpkin on his pillow, and Woof Woof Dog sprawled out between us at the foot. My queen-sized bed can barely fit a man-sized man, a man-sized dog, and a dog-sized cat, plus me, but that just means we get to all snuggle closer.
Wilder wakes up slowly, cracking an eye. He rubs his hand down his face to clear sleep away like he always does. “Was I drooling?” It’s an inside joke after that day at the studio in Reno when I pulled up and his face was pressed against the window. It looked like wet dog nose marks when it dried. We still bring it up and laugh about it.