“You don’t have to.” She grabbed her shoes and shoved her feet into them.
“I want to.” Her grin spread and she draped her arms over my shoulders.
“Are you okay with me leaving my guitar here?”
I rubbed my nose against hers. “I’ll look after it for you.”
A quick peck on my lips. “I know.”
She was gone too long, and the time I had with her was too short.
I spent my evening going over the hours we’d spent together. I wanted the years to stretch into eternity, to truly be with her. The only hitch in my head was the thought of a family. I wanted one with her and was terrified all at once.
A family. Not just Bay, but kids. I could tell she wanted them from how she talked about her future and how well she did with them. But we had time. She’d go off on her tour and I’d talk to Monica every damn day if that was what it took to get over the fears that woke me in the middle of the night.
The door swept open a little before one a.m.. I set down my sketch pad, my lone beer of the night long finished.
She rushed over to me. “I’m so sorry I’m late. It wasn’t supposed to go that long.” Her voice was frantic.
Standing, I set down the pad and folded her up in my arms. “You’re busy. I get it. I’m up because I couldn’t sleep. Trust me, I loved the idea of you sliding into bed beside me to wake me up.”
Her body sagged with palpable relief. “What time do you leave in the morning?”
“Six.”
“I leave in four days.” Her eyes glistened with unchecked tears. “You’re gone for the next two and a half.” The waver in her voice clawed at my heart. There was never enough time.
“Then we need to make the most of this time. I’ll give you something to remember me by.”
Hand in hand, we walked to my bedroom. The one I wanted to be ours.
I peeled her clothes off, taking my time and savoring every inch of revealed skin.
Her hands were busy on my clothes.
There wasn’t the urgency of our other times together, although the countdown clock loomed overhead.
This wouldn’t be the end. This wasn’t where we said goodbye, no matter how many miles there were between us.
In bed, we explored each other’s bodies. My head buried between her thighs. Her mouth on my cock using her full sexual arsenal until I grabbed a condom and slid into her.
Rolling, grinding thrusts with our bodies so close together her breath fanned across my cheek.
Her climax was sharp, tightening around me so much stars danced in front of my eyes. We collapsed, sweaty and satiated.
Falling asleep beside her, the final piece of my peace in place, I knew what my life was like without her and with her. Without wasn’t an option.
I woke when the sun was still a rumor to the horizon.
Sitting in my chair, I watched her sleep. The sketch pad sat balanced on my lap, not doing her the slightest bit of justice.
After slipping out of bed just before sunrise, I’d grabbed my pencil when the itch in my palms got to undeniable heights.
Her leg hung out from under the blankets, and she’d wrapped herself around the pillow I’d been using.
“Are you going to keep drawing me or are you going to get back in bed?” she mumbled against the gray pillow.
“How’d you know I was drawing you?”
One eye popped open, shining with amusement. “I’ve seen that look before. Back in Greenwood. You always have a look of intense concentration and contentment when you draw, like you’re living in the moment, experiencing it and capturing it all at once.”
This woman knew me unlike anyone else in the world. She owned every fiber of my being and lit every strand of my soul aflame. I set the notepad and pencil down on the floor and crawled into bed beside her. “There’s something I need to tell you.” Collapsing beside her, I cupped her cheek, skimming my fingers across her skin.
Her eyes widened, but she didn’t say a word, waiting for me.
“I’ve known for a while how I feel, but I didn’t want to rush things. I didn’t want you to think I was forcing your hand or trying to pull something out of you.”
“You wouldn’t do that.”
“I’ve had my moments.” My thumb ran across her lip.
I stood on the edge of my cliff with the wind roaring in my ears. I wasn’t afraid of the splinters or the shatter anymore. They couldn’t hold me back from giving all of myself to her.
“Someone once said ‘If I don’t go for it, it’ll be a question in my mind for the rest of my life.’ You’re my question, the one that’s reverberated in my head since the first night I heard you sing. ‘How can I be the kind of man she deserves?’”
She met my gaze, her eyes shining. “You already are. At this point, I don’t feel I deserve you, but I don’t ever want you to second guess how I feel for you. I hate the thought of leaving you.”
I tucked her hair behind her ear. “But you have to.”
Her throat tightened and she nodded.
“I love you, Bay.”
A tear spilled over the edge of her eyelid.
I hated to see her cry, but her smile tempered the tightness in my chest.
She slipped her arms under mine and held me closer. “And I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember. Even when I fought it. Even when I tried to pretend I didn’t. Even when I left. I’ve always loved you.”
“I will always love you.” I’d found my pre-dawn sunrise in my own bed, draped in sheets and resting on my pillow. “There will never be someone as perfect for me as you.”
“You might be overselling it. I’m sure there are plenty of women out there who could be perfect for you.”
“Never. I could never regret a single minute of time I’ve had with you. From the first note you sang, you struck a chord in my chest that’s reverberated over the past ten years. There couldn’t be someone else out there because there is no other Bay out there.”
“Maybe you should write a couple songs on my next album. They’d make killer lyrics.”
I smiled, the mood lightening from soul-baring to serene satisfaction. “You can have them. Add them to your book, and when you’re out on the road and you read them you can think of me.”
“I don’t need lyrics to do that.” Her arms tightened. “How long until you need to leave?”
Lifting my head, I checked the clock. “Thirty-five more minutes.” I brushed my hand over her hair and kissed her temple. The glow in my chest that made it feel like I was floating.
“Can I take your picture with me?”
“You want it?” My heartbeat skipped.
“I always love seeing how you see me. It’ll make me feel like you’re still here with me.”
“Even when I’m not. I am.”
We’d make this work.
32
Bay
I’d been tempted to fly to Wisconsin for his last game just to see him. Our time together was being gobbled up so quickly I’d wanted my never-ending days to actually never end, just to keep Tuesday from coming. But the weekend ended and he came back to me.