“The song’s really beautiful,” she whispers, “but I have one for you too.”
I smile, tilting my head. “Yeah? You do?”
She nods, a small grin tugging at her lips as she reaches for her phone on the nightstand. I grab the remote and click off the TV, the room falling into a soft hush. A second later, her phone is connected to the headphones, and the opening notes ofWhen You Say Nothing At Allby Ronan Keating drift into the quiet.
My smile comes instantly, uncontrollably. “Really? The most romantic song in the entire music universe makes you think of me, Marshall?”
Her cheeks flush, but she doesn’t look away. I keep my arms wrapped around her as the music fills the room, the lyrics settling around us like they’ve been waiting for this moment all along. Our breathing syncs with the melody, steady and calm, as if the song itself is stitching us together.
“You’re love,” she whispers into my chest.
I chuckle softly, teasing, “And here I thought I was music.”
She giggles, that sound that always manages to undo me, before lifting her eyes back to mine. “You’re everything.”
Those two words—simple, but heavy with meaning—strike straight through me. Something in my chest stirs, wild and certain, and I can’t hold back anymore. Gently, I shift, rolling us so she’s lying beneath me, her hair fanning out on the pillow. I cup her face in my hands, studying the shine in her eyes for a heartbeat before pressing my lips to hers.
“Youare everything,” I murmur against her mouth, kissing her again, softer this time.
“We really should get up. We’ve been in this bed since yesterday,” she murmurs after a while with a teasing grin, and I smile.
“Well, if you want me to get up...” I start to move, but she yanks me back down with a quick move. “No, no, no. Stay here with me.”
I burst out laughing, nodding against her lips. “I have no intention of going anywhere,” I whisper, cupping her face and pressing my mouth to hers, slow and hungry.
She clings to me, pulling me impossibly close, and we roll across the bed until she’s straddling me, heat pressing into me from every angle.
I study her, drinking in the curve of her jaw, the flush on her cheeks, the way her hair falls across her face. I tuck a strand behind her ear, fingers lingering. “You know what?”
Her lips hover over mine, breath hot, eyes alight. “What?”
“I love you so much, and I want to shout it from the rooftops. You’re the epic love song my heart was always meant to write, Marshall, and I don’t want it to be a secret anymore. Everyone needs to know.”
EPILOGUE
Nova Marshall
PRESENT (2024)
“Best' was a tough one to write, not in terms
of actually putting the words down, but tough in the confessional sense. It kind of sucked to reckon with the feeling of having let someone down. That song is a bit of an apology.”
Gracie Abrams
“Where are we going?” I laugh as Vincent keeps running across the sand, tugging me behind him by the hand.
I have no idea why he dragged me to Miami Beach at this hour, especially with how much work we both have piling up. He spent the whole day locked in the recording studio with Max and the producers working on the tracks for his first studio album, while I worked double shifts at Roxy’s trying to save every penny I can for the animal shelter.
Sam put down the deposit on the land I’ve been dreaming about for years—swearing it was only to shut up the mayor and keep the owner from selling it to someone else before I could afford it. I still cry a little when I think about it.
So the fact that Vincent decided to take the night off—no studio, no mixing sessions, no eating cold Chinese takeout on the couch while asking for my opinions on melodies—means everything. Even though, God, I love those studio nights with him.
Emily’s European tour is almost over. Just a handful of shows left, then she’ll finally take a few months off before the final thirty U.S. dates. Vincent’s set to open the last twenty-five, even though he hasn’t been officially announced as the opener yet.
Emily hasn’t announced it. The label hasn’t teased it. They’re still trying to find the perfect way to reveal him—something special, something that feels big enough for his first official step under Skyline Edge Entertainment.
It’s the same label that built Emily’s entire career, the one everyone in the industry dreams of. And nowmyVincent’s in the same hallways as artists who sell out arenas in minutes. Artists with platinum plaques stacked in their studios like they’re nothing.
