She nodded her head.
“Do you have a recording of it?”
“I have a rough one on my computer.”
“Can you send it to me? I’d like to hear the whole song.”
“I…”
“Pretty please? With cherries and whipped cream on top?”
“You’re such a child.”
“I know.”
She let out a huff. “Fine. When I get home.”
“I can’t wait.”
“Who writes your songs?”
“We do. All of us. They are working pieces. One of us comes up with an idea, and we mold it into what we want as a band.”
“That sounds amazing.”
“Or infuriating. Can you imagine how long it takes to get five guys to agree on how the melody of a song should go?”
“No, I really can’t.”
“And you don’t want to.”
“Here you go.” The waitress set down her chickenchimichanga and my steak fajitas. “Anything else you two need right now?”
We both shook our heads.
“This looks and smells amazing. I’m starving,” Cadence said.
I was starving, too, and let my eyes feast on the woman before me, watching as she picked up her fork and knife, and dug in. She had no idea what a gem she truly was.
“I’m stuffed.” Cadence rubbed her belly dramatically as we left the restaurant.
“Too bad about that lava cake, though.”
She growled at me. “Way to rub it in.”
I leaned into her ear. “I’ll make it up to you later.”
A red hue crept across her cheeks, but the yearning in her eyes mirrored my own.
We strolled along the pier and the weight of her hand in mine was becoming instinctual.
Flicking my wrist, I checked the time on my watch. I still had about two hours before I had to get back.
I let Cadence pull me into different souvenir shops, placating her when she wanted me to put on ‘Santa Monica Pier’ sunglasses and other touristy items.
Not like it was difficult. I’d do almost anything to make her smile, even at the expense of myself.
“So…” she said as we left another shop. “How about some ice cream?”
