She pauses and swallows. “Delores was pressuring me to take the deal offering the most money. But I’m not willing to lose you. And I’m not willing to work with someone who thinks that they get to decide who I love.”
“I … what?” I feel like I’m supposed to say something, but I’m still playing catch up.
She steps closer, her hands lifting like she wants to reach for me, but she drops them before touching me. “I miss you, Colt,” she says, blinking hard as two tears track down her cheeks. “You wouldn’t return my calls, and then you turned off your phone, and I even went to your parents’ house to try to find you since that’s where you were staying before you moved in with me. And your mom said you were better off without me and Mia said I just use people to get ahead, and I …” She trails off, taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry I didn’t answer when you eventually tried calling me back. I was deep into writing that song for tonight, and I wasn’t taking anyone’s calls. I put my phone in a drawer and didn’t look at it for days. I only pulled it out to call Tom about the show when my mom mentioned I’d been taken off the billing, and I didn’t check any messages. When I got it out this morning and saw all your missed calls, well …” She shrugs and gives me a pleading look. “I thought about calling you back. I really did. But I decided surprising you would make a stronger statement. Because … well, I didn’t think you’d believe me if I tried to convince you I didn’t want a divorce. That you’d argue you were trying to help me by signing the papers and leaving, that I’d be better off without you.”
This time she does reach for me, taking my limp hands in hers. “But it’s not true, Colt. I’m better off with you. Everything good that’s happened lately has been when we’re together. And I’m not willing to give that up. Not for any amount of money.”
Chapter Forty
Alexis
I clutch Colt’s fingers in my cold, trembling hands, holding my breath as I wait for him to respond. To say something or give some kind of reaction. Anything but the blank, blinking, guppy face I’m getting.
Finally his fingers tighten on mine. “What?” he repeats, sounding as dumbfounded as he looks. He blinks rapidly a few times, gives his head a rough shake, and sucks in a ragged breath. “I’m sorry, this is a lot for me to process. I thought … you’d been acting off since your last meeting with Delores, and then I found the papers. I thought you’d dropped them accidentally, and I wanted to see if they were something important that you needed to deal with. It seemed like the most likely explanation for what had been going on. You needed a divorce, but we’d already gotten so tangled up just like you always said you didn’t want, and you didn’t want to hurt my feelings.”
His grip on my hands becomes almost painful. “But I don’t want to stand in your way. I don’t want to be the thing holding you back and keeping you down. Even if you said you wouldn’t take that contract because of me, someday you’ll resent me for it. I love you, too, Alexis. But we can’t keep kidding ourselves that you don’t deserve more than me.”
It’s my turn to look confused. “What are you talking about? Didn’t you hear what I just said? I don’t want to work with a company that tries to control every aspect of my life. They don’t get to tell me who to date or who to love. And you don’t either, for that matter. I get to decide that. Only me. And I pick you. You have helped me to boil down what’s most important to me. And music, relationships, and this”—I fling a hand toward the door, indicating the stage, the crowd, the performance—“this is what matters most. I’m going to take the other contract. And I’m going to live up to my end of our bargain. I’ll keep writing songs for you. I’ll help you pick songs from other writers if you want—and by the way, that new song you debuted tonight was killer. Where’d you get that from?” I wave that question away. “Tell me later. That’s not the point right now. The point is that I know what I want. I’ve already informed Delores. And I have every intention of continuing to perform with you and my label is on board. They love what we’re doing and are thrilled to be backing a new album, including at least one of the duets I wrote for us. You can keep building your audience as an indie, but I have a good feeling that unless you just decide you don’t want to bother with a label, you could get an offer before you know it.”
He blinks at me again, bewildered amazement taking over his face. “Are you serious?”
“Yes!” I thread my fingers through his and squeeze them in time with my words. “I. Love. You. Colt. I choose you. I choose us.”
Finally—finally—my words seem to make an impression. With his fingers still threaded through mine, he wraps his arms around me, trapping my hands behind my back, and bends to kiss me. “I love you too, Alexis,” he breathes against my lips before claiming then.
And then his lips crash into mine, the kiss bruising and fierce, his tongue delving into my mouth as though he can’t get inside me fast enough.
I completely agree.
I wriggle my hands out of his grip so I can wrap my arms around him, using my leverage on his shoulders to boost myself higher. He groans, his hands cupping my ass as he bounces me up so I can wrap my legs around his waist.
“God, I’ve missed you,” he says, breathing hard.
“Me too.” My hands grip his hair, and I hold him back from me for a second, studying his beautiful sweet face. This man was ready to sacrifice his own happiness for mine. I’m glad neither of us have to make that kind of choice, though. Because we’re both better off together.
“Alexis,” he growls. “I can’t—I don’t—Jesus Christ, I want inside you so bad, but I don’t have a condom with me.”
I kiss him once, fast and hard. “Take me home, Colt.”
We leave my car at the venue, because neither of us are willing to be apart. And the drive back to our apartment is almost torture, his hand riding high on my thigh, but not high enough.
He glances at me as I lean in close, rubbing the inside of his thigh and making him groan. “Careful, Alexis,” he warns, his voice rough. “I don’t want to cause an accident.”
I hum thoughtfully. “If I make you come in your pants, I’m quite certain it won’t be an accident.”
He lets out a bark of laughter. “I meant a car accident.”
“Oh. Right.” I take my hand away with one last pat on his inner thigh. I still have nightmares about the last car accident I was in. No need to tempt fate with another one, especially so soon after getting my life back on track. Again.
But not even the brief, sharp reminder of all I’ve lost can dim my happiness at having Colt back.
The last few months with him have been something of a process of self-rediscovery. I hadn’t realized how lost in the woods I’d become chasing after fame and fortune with Golden Enigma, doing everything we were told we had to do in order to make it. We partied, we schmoozed, we did our best to stay relevant, stay in the spotlight, stay popular. And look where that got us. Broken and scattered.