I smiled at him. “You want to live with me?”
His eyes moved back and forth between mine. “I want everything with you.”
Screw it. If I was going to do this thing, I was going to do it. And I wanted to start over. I wanted to start over with him.
I nodded. “Okay. Let’s do everything. Let’s do it all.”
He paused and beamed at me. And then he smothered me with kisses. My mouth, my cheeks, my neck, telling me over and over and over again that he loved me, and I laughed and clutched him.
Every time he said it, the words filled me up. They wrapped themselves around me like warm, strong arms and made me feel safe and cherished, pushing out every doubt that his past and his fame had made me feel.
He loved me.
And I loved him back.
This was why we could weather his fame. Why I could trust him, always, no matter what came up. He belonged to me and we were in it together. How could I ever question it?
We were in love.
Chapter 31
Jason
♪ Diamonds | Ben Howard
I bought a ring. A very, very big ring.
Chapter 32
Sloan
♪ Big Jet Plane | Angus & Julia Stone
Are you sure you don’t want to come with me? Saturday Night Live is kind of a once-in-a-lifetime deal,” Jason said. He talked against my lips as he kissed me goodbye on my porch. His guitar case sat next to us and his hands twined in the hair at the nape of my neck. His eyes practically smoldered.
He did this on purpose, of course, because he knew how defenseless I was when he sucked me into that vortex of his.
I had to be strong. I had too much to do.
“If you want me to be ready to leave my whole life behind in less than a week, I can’t give you three more days,” I said, nuzzling his nose with my eyes closed.
It was actually a good thing he was leaving for New York. The man was highly distracting. I couldn’t get anything done when he was home—well, nothing that required clothes, anyway.
“I’m going to miss you,” he breathed.
“I’m going to miss you too.” I kissed him, wrapping my arms around his neck. “But mostly I’m going to miss being the other woman for a few days.”
He snorted.
“I’m going to frame it,” I said. “Maybe Kristen will put it in the Christmas calendar.”
Yesterday a picture of me and Jason holding hands at Trader Joe’s ended up on the cover of the National Enquirer. JAXON WATERS CHEATS ON LOLA SIMONE! was plastered all over the front. I’d been wearing sunglasses and a baseball cap and my tattoos were covered, so only I recognized myself. But it was still really funny.
“They called me a mystery woman,” I said, smiling against his lips. “I’ve always wanted to be mysterious.”
He chuckled. “I’ve always wanted two women. This is working out for both of us.”
I hit him, and he laughed, tickling me by nibbling my neck.
It had been three days since we made up, and things between us were on a whole new level. There was no more end date. We weren’t breaking up, we were going on his tour and then moving in together. The future of our relationship was clearly laid.
And we were ridiculously in love with each other.
He’d told me everything. About Lola, the song. Why he didn’t ask me on tour earlier. Everything. And I’d listened and understood and when it was over, I felt like we were allies against the world.
Zane idled in my driveway, waiting for him. I could tell he didn’t want to leave me and it made my heart happy, but I had to be practical. “Go, you’re going to be late for your flight. Text me from the car.”
“Look at me.”
I gazed up and drowned in his blue eyes.
He put his thumb over my lips, pressing them shut. “I love you,” he said. Then he moved his thumb, kissed me swiftly, and jogged down the steps with his guitar before I could reply.
My heart could barely take it. I don’t think I could ever get used to him saying that. I leaned on the door frame, Tucker at my feet, and watched Jason get into the car, smiling. I blew him a kiss as they pulled out of the driveway and my cell phone pinged with a text message from him before Zane’s Tesla cleared the end of the block.
Jason: I miss you already.
Ping.
Jason: Sext me.
I laughed.
God, we were so adorable, even I could barely stand us.
I got to work. In the next seven days I had to contact the company I painted for and tell them I was quitting, and I had to put my Etsy store on vacation. Three paintings needed to be completed. I had to rent a storage container, put my house on the market, and start packing. Things needed to be pulled together for a quick yard sale.
And I still had the hardest thing of all to check off my list: telling Kristen I was leaving.
We’d never been apart for more than a few days before. Never, going as far back as the sixth grade. There was no telling how she would react. I half expected her to tell me not to go. She’d been a huge Jason fan so far, but agreeing to go on tour with him after only two weeks as his girlfriend sounded crazy, even to me. And then to explain I’d be selling my house and moving in with him too? On paper it was nuts, no matter how right it felt to me.
I’d made plans to meet her and the baby at the park, and I drove over with Tucker at noon. Kristen had Oliver in his jogging stroller and was already making a circuit around the running track when I got there. I walked the wrong way until I met up with her. When I fell in beside her, she didn’t waste any time calling me on my agenda.
“So what do you need to tell me?” She looked determinedly ahead, speed walking.
God, how does she do that every time? Knowing exactly what I’m up to within five seconds of seeing my face?
I didn’t bother drawing it out. “Jason’s asked me to go on tour with him.”
Kristen didn’t take her eyes off the running track. “And you said yes?”
“And I said yes. But there’s something else. I’m selling the house. And when we get back, we’re moving in together.”
Kristen stopped walking so fast I outpaced her by three steps before I noticed.
She panted and stared at me for a moment. “Let’s go sit,” she said carefully, giving me a look I couldn’t decipher.
Ugh. This wasn’t good. I so wanted her to support me in this. I was going to do it whether she wanted me to or not. But I really had hoped she was going to back me because the news hadn’t gone over well with my parents. At all.
My dad thought my running away on tour with my “rock star” boyfriend of two weeks was some kind of crisis I was working through. He’d given me a long speech about the perils of dating musicians and ended it by telling me he disagreed wholeheartedly with my decision. He’d even thrown around the word “disappointed.”
He’d loved Brandon. They were both ex-military and they’d played in the same poker league. Dad didn’t even want to meet Jason. He said he’d put money on it being over by Labor Day and if it wasn’t, maybe he’d meet him at Thanksgiving.