“What…” Was I dreaming? “Is this…?”
“Yeah, baby. It is.”
My heart pounded as I looked around the auditorium, at the rows and rows of seats, the balconies to the left and right, the stage with its gorgeous Italian Renaissance design.
“You once told me you promised your mom you’d make it to Carnegie someday,” he said softly. He held a finger up. “But there was no specification forperformingat Carnegie. So.” He bent down and snapped open the case of his violin. “I wanted to perform for you.”
My lips parted, but I couldn’t think of a single word to say. I stared up at this beautiful, breathtaking, bighearted man and was so, so thankful that I’d found him. That he’d found me.
There was no body big enough to contain the love I had for him; I didn’t think there ever would be. But my soul would carry it forever.
“I wrote you a song,” he told me, those dark eyes shining with love and adoration. “It’s calledLullaby of a Butterfly,and then in parentheses,(That Flapped Its Wings and Made It All the Way to the Sun, Who Swallowed It Whole, and Then They Were One).I came up with that last part just now. Good, right?” He smiled down at me, looking so adorably self-satisfied.
I wasn’t sure there were even words for what I was feeling right now. I thought maybe he’d unlocked some new depth of emotion that was entirely boundless.
A tear spilled down my cheek as Dakota blew me a kiss, then readied his violin and bow. He closed his eyes and I fell in love all over again.
The song was achingly tender, delicate and pretty. He played with so much love that it was shimmering around him, a tangible, breathing thing that moved in sync with him.
Before he even finished the song, I was running up onto that stage and throwing my arms around him. I couldn’t contain these feelings, couldn’t stand being so far away from him.
He laughed and wrapped his arms around me, still holding his violin. “Yeah? You liked it that much?”
I trembled against him, so overwhelmed I couldn’t speak. He kissed my head, and I felt him doing something behind my back. “Let me put this down,” he said, curling his arm around me. He was holding his violin and bow in one hand now, and I drew back enough so he could set it carefully on the floor. And then he was up and pulling me against him, sifting his fingers through my hair and smiling down at me.
“I think she’d be really proud of you. Your momandLauren. You scored yourself a hottie,” he said.
I punched his arm and he just laughed. Then he said, “Come here,” and moved his arms under my ass, hauled me up, and let me wrap myself around him.
“Thank you,” I whispered, kissing his neck. Right over the love mark I’d left on him. The one that was always there. He never, ever wanted it to disappear, and whenever it started to fade, he’d make me do it again.
“I love you. Just wanted this day to be special.” He stroked up and down my back.
“If you’re here, it’s always special,” I murmured.
It was almost hard to believe that we were making a life together. That he was mine and I was his and we had so much more now than we’d ever had.
Nothing was perfect, but I thought the life we were building was pretty damn close.
Especially after the wreckage of that party.
The Voss family had been eviscerated by the public; Albert stepped down from his position as dean right before his affair with Ilsa got out somehow.
Evelyn and Albert had sold the manor and moved away somewhere.
Everett…actually, no one even knew where he’d gone or what he was doing. He’d spent a few months in jail, but after that, he’d disappeared entirely.
I felt pity for them now that everything was so far behind us. They were broken people who never knew how to love in the first place. And they probably wouldn’t ever know, which was the saddest part of it all.
Dakota knew how to love.
Dakotawaslove.
He was everything good in my life. Every moment of joy I experienced was because of him.
We lived in a little borough in upstate New York not too far from Ashbrook, but far enough. We had a house, we had each other.
Dakota was doing exactly what he wanted now: composing music on his terms. It helped that he’d been famous as a kid, so he didn’t really need to look around much when trying to sell his work.
