He scooped up a heap of his cookies and cream ice cream with one of the Oreos and even more hot fudge, holding it out for me.
I hadn’t even had to ask.
Why did this make him ten times sexier? Any sexier and he might spontaneously combust—or maybe that was me.
I took the bite he offered, wrapping my lips around the spoon.
His grip on the spoon tightened. Legs under the table squeezed mine tight together, sending a tingling pulse to my core.
Was it hotter out here all the sudden?
He dragged the spoon from between my lips in a way that sent the tingling into sizzling mode.
We were still in public.
I broke my gaze away from his and focused on my ice cream. Decadent. Divine. Delicious. A lot like him.
“She has two kids now. A four-year-old girl and a three-year-old little boy.” I bit into a chunk of peanut butter cup. “They’re adorable. Hilarious too. I’m her son’s godmother.”
“That’s great you’re still close.”
If he meant not seeing her for over a year and missing out on her birthday party, then yes, we were close. I’d figure something out, lock down a date and ask her if we could have a day together and try not to feel I was barging into her life asking her to rearrange things for me. Maybe I could set some dates for after the tour. Another girls’ trip. Yes! Proactive with lots of forewarning to make sure I wasn’t pulling last-minute availability requests.
“How often do you get to see Felicia? I saw her name in your phone. She seemed nice.”
My head shot up. “How’d you kno—“
He caught my eye with a knowing look.
A nip of guilt hit my heart.
“Oh. I forgot.” Of course. She’d been the one to deliver the letter. And the one who had sent me the guitar after he’d given it to her.
“She finished her PhD. So did her husband. They’re teaching in New Orleans. They came to one of my shows last year, but we didn’t get to see each other for more than a few minutes after—I had to do a meet and greet and they had to get home to their kids.”
“What about other friends?” He peered over at me.
I shrugged. What other response was there? “Spencer. You remember him. We’ll see him later tonight. That’s about it. After college, all the people I knew went in different directions, and I’ve been on the road nearly 1500 days out of the last 2000. Most people who did keep up with me only did it for things. Tickets to a show. A video message to impress their girlfriend. Stuff like that.” It sucked that 99% of the messages Holden and Emily fielded for me were asking for things. It used to bother me more, but I’d adjusted to always waiting for the ask.
“Every day I’m writing songs. Tweaking them. Figuring out what makes them tick. When I’m not on tour, I’m in the studio recording a new album or doing the promo work to keep the machine going. There’s not much time to make new friends when you barely know what city you’re in. It’s also hard to be real friends with someone when it feels like everyone has an angle.” I swallowed the bitterness with a heaping spoonful of hot fudge and rainbow sprinkles.
“Do you love it?” He held the spoon in front of his lips like the question had just occurred to him.
No one had ever asked me that way before. Usually it was in a way that confirmed their ideas about how much I loved it, never a genuine question.
“The music?” I smiled, thinking of the first twenty shows. “The first time I stood up on stage and held out my mic to have the crowd sing without me…I teared up. I remembered thinking of what it would be like for people to know my words. I’ve seen people with them tattooed on their body. That blows me away. It’s still insane to me how a wave or a signed piece of paper can make someone’s day. Lucky doesn’t even begin to describe how all this has been for me.” How would our life had been if I’d stayed? The question always rang in the back of my head and tugged at my heart.
“But there’s no off-season for you, huh?” He ate another spoonful of ice cream and I offered him a perfectly proportioned one of mine. Dropping his hands, he let me feed it to him.
“Not at all. But you know about that.” I nudged his arm. “I’ve seen you in a few cologne ad campaigns.”
He groaned and slapped his hand over his face. “Those weren’t in my head?”
“Whether they were or not, you looked damn good.”
I offered him another spoonful of my ice cream. Somehow, him eating it backfired on me, and my body was no longer numb. We needed to go before I climbed over this picnic table and tackled him to the ground.
A few heads turned in our direction and I tugged my hat down lower, avoiding eye contact. Going out with a guy as tall as Keyton wasn’t exactly the best way to blend in, but for some reason walking with him, I wasn’t hit with the panic I was hit with even when venturing outside with security. Normally, there was always that first heart-stopping moment when the door to the car or building opened.
I felt safe with him, the kind of comfort bred over years of mundane moments strung together to create a mesh of protection that couldn’t be faked or forged overnight.
“Where to next, milady?” He held out his arm.
“It’s going to sound really stupid.”
“Nothing could. Trust me. You tell me where and we’re going.”
I peered over at him wondering just how crazy he’d think I was. Taking a deep breath, I slipped my arm through his. “Just remember. You asked for this.”
20
Keyton
The football-field-sized giant box of blue and yellow wouldn’t have been my first idea of where to take Bay for her day off.
But here we were at Ikea, wandering through the bedroom section, picking out furniture for an imaginary two-bedroom apartment, and she looked like I’d taken her on a shopping spree through Tiffany’s. Her happiness spilled over, making it hard for me to stop grinning like a maniac.
“What do you think of the Bingsta chair?” She tapped the tiny pencil against her bottom lip. “Does it scream bedroom comfort?”
Her gaze swung to mine, looking for my actual opinion.
Stifling my grin, I nodded. “The perfect addition to any room.”
“How about that one?” She pointed to the other set-up in the mini apartment, complete with a bathroom with large writing on the toilet stating this wasn’t to be used as an actual bathroom. How many mishaps had it taken for them to put that sign up?
I sat in the chair with a higher back than most and kicked my feet up.
Bay sat on the edge of the Malm bed with a paper tape measure around her neck, tapping her golf pencil against the order card.
For a second, I could believe this was what we were really doing, finally moving in together after graduating college. Merging our lives and our things together and picking out some we’d both like.
She looked to me expectantly.
I came back to where we really were and what we were really doing. Playing pretend. A pretend I’d dreamed about on the nights Bay floated into my dreams even after I’d vowed I’d moved on.
“The chair feels great.”
“Nice.” Her eyes twinkled and her smile was megawatt-bright as she made a note on the card with the name and quantity.