“And,” I go on, “I fucked up by talking about the album this morning when you wanted to talk about a wedding date. The truth is I wanted to get the album figured out so that we can plan the wedding.”
Annie sighs happily. “I know we agreed to wait, but lately, it’s all I can think about. I’ll be in rehearsal and space out because I’m picturing walking toward you in the perfect dress. Or miss my stop on the subway because I’m thinking about honeymoon locations. The other night I couldn’t sleep because I was thinking if it feels this good to wear your ring, I might explode seeing you wear mine.”
She holds up our joined hands, and I feel like the one who might explode.
“Hearing Serena and Wes talk about it today made it feel even more pressing,” she goes on, her lips curving. “It’s crazy because I know you’re mine and a wedding doesn’t make you more mine, but I want you to be mine in every way. I want you to be the mine-est mine there is.”
I love how she feels everything. I treasure it. “I am yours, Six. I always have been. If it sounds like I don’t want to talk about the wedding, it’s only because when I picture it, I don’t think about the flowers and decorations. I think about growing old with you, watching our children grow. You taught me how to dream, and being married you is something I dream of.”
Her eyes gleam in the dark, and I glance back at the bike.
“So, if we’re doing presents,” I say, cocking my head, “I suppose I could give you yours.”
Chapter Six
Annie
My hand stays locked in Tyler’s as he leads me back into the studio.
I hadn’t planned to give him the bike until tomorrow, but his reaction made all the effort to find it worthwhile.
I expect him to continue through the building and out to the patio, then the house, but he surprises me by pushing open one of the studio doors. Inside the space is a range of instruments. He lifts a guitar from a rack on the far side, and my heart skips.
“You’re going to play me your new album?” I ask. “You’ve been beyond secretive about it. I tried not to take it personally.”
My smile lets him know I’m joking, but the sincerity in his dark eyes leaves me breathless.
“Take it personally. I want you to.” He pulls over a stool and sits, rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt in a way that turns me liquid before he tunes the guitar.
I can’t look away. He’s perfectly imperfect, his dark hair falling over the face I love, curling at his collared shirt. Since the first time I saw him when I was thirteen, I haven’t been able to look away.
Twelve years later, everything in our lives has changed…
Except that.
He plays, the chords tugging at my heart. When he sings overtop, that gorgeous voice with a little edge, as if I’m hearing something he’s confessing to himself, I’m ripped open.
I slide to my knees in front of him, the carpet rubbing my skin through the tights. I don’t care. I’m mesmerized as his eyes lock on mine and he sings me a song.
When he finishes, he says, “It’s called ‘My Heart.’ Two guesses who it’s for.”
I couldn’t stop the smile if I tried. “You wrote a song for me?”
“For you. About you. With you. Because even when I’m alone, you’re with me.”
God. If there’s a way to resist this man, I don’t know what it is. “I couldn’t love it any more,” I say and mean it.
I love that he knows me the way I know him. He knew this song would be everything I didn’t know I needed, like I knew the bike would be perfect for him.
Tyler lifts the guitar from his lap, setting it aside without breaking my gaze. “I want to be where you are, and I know I’ve been struggling with finishing this album. But being with you, here or New York or anywhere, that matters even more.”
My throat is tight with emotion when he threads his hands into my hair and kisses me.
“Okay,” I murmur against his lips. “Can we still talk about getting married though? Maybe just… pencil it in?” I trace a finger over the ink on his hand, and he laughs.
“We can do better than that. Let’s do it this spring. Somewhere warm. On an island.”
A thrill races through me. We’ve been talking about a destination wedding. “Perfect. Family and friends. It’ll be simple.”
He cocks his head. “You know our family and friends. It will never be simple.”
I laugh because it’s true, and I’m good with that. We both are.
I never wanted to fall for a musician, but I can’t see it any other way.
I tilt my chin up toward the beams overhead, thinking back to a day seven years ago, before the pool house was renovated and it housed a single resident. He wasn’t a VIP yet, but even then, I knew.
“That one?” I point at the beam. “Has a big knot in the middle.”
Tyler follows my gaze.
“You can’t see it anymore because Dad had them painted white,” I go on, “but I remember looking at those one morning. I woke up in your bed, and all I could think was, ‘Shit—I got really drunk last night, and now I’m in bed with Tyler.’”
He chuckles. “I remember that morning. All the parts before it, and the ones after.”
I shift onto the floor and lie on my back, still smiling. “You were next to me. Right about here, I think.” I scoot sideways to the other edge of the studio, where the bed was. “And I thought, ‘I wish he wasn’t such an ass to me.’”
“I was an ass because I couldn’t have you, and because I hated how much I wanted to.” Tyler stretches out beside me, his shoulder brushing mine and his warmth making me tingle.
My eyes drift shut. “You always had me.”
“How about now?”
His voice is nearer, and I blink my eyes open to see him hovering over me intently. Those dark eyelashes fringe his beautiful eyes, his hair hanging across his face.
My lips part, and Tyler follows the movement—God, he notices everything. He brushes a thumb across my lips in a way that has me tingling in my breasts, between my thighs.
He kisses me slowly at first. The deceptively gentle slide of mouths that know one another’s secrets and want to relearn them. He parts my lips with his tongue, and I open for him, wanting and unashamed. The groan escaping him tells me how much he likes knowing I’m his.
I want to stand up in front of this world and let him mark me as his—so long as it means he’s mine too. Desire floods me, a sudden wave of need, and I grab his hair and tug him close.
Tyler moves over me, hand dragging down my side and his hips pressing, showing me exactly what he wants. He reaches under my shoulders for the zipper of my dress.
“Too hard,” I mumble.
“You can take it.”
“I meant the dress.” I laugh against his lips.
Tyler pulls back and winks. “Sure you did.”
I reach for his belt and work it off with frenzied hands. He gets under my skirt, struggling with my tights before shifting back on his knees long enough to rip them.
I prop up on my elbows, eyeing him with disbelief. “Okay, ‘man with the plan.’ How am I going to walk back in there with no tights?”