“You know what?” she continued. “I’d like to amend my further decree about not letting our messy pasts invade our evening.”
“No futures either?” he asked.
She turned her head to glance up at him, and he found the fire’s reflection dancing in her dark eyes. “Is that okay? I know we have to deal with reality eventually, but tonight feels like a fairy tale, and for one night, I want the happily ever after.”
He wanted to ask her if she believed that happily ever after could extend past tonight, but he also didn’t want to break this spell of complete and utter perfection. It was the happiest Ash had been in four years…or maybe ever. He had no problem making it last as long as he could.
“No past and no future until we turn into pumpkins or whatever at midnight,” he told her.
She backhanded him on the shoulder with a laugh. “It’s Cinderella’s coach that turns back into a pumpkin, nother. And this spell better last later than midnight!”
Ash laughed too, and—noticing her plastic glasswas empty—topped off her bubbly and then his own.
She grinned. “You know… I haven’t had sparkling almond wine in years,” she told him. “I forgot how much I like it.”
“I didn’t,” he told her once they were snuggled under the shared blanket again. He leaned back against the chair and tilted his head toward the sky, marveling at the stars twinkling like fairy lights strung from the tallest trees.
He could feel her looking at him, but he kept his eyes trained on the stars.
“What else about me do you remember?” she asked.
One corner of his mouth quirked up. “Changing the rules, are we?” He rolled his head to meet her gaze. “Doesn’t this line of questioning fall underpastus?”
Willow shrugged. “My rules. Means I can bend them. Besides, my likes and dislikes don’t necessarily fall undermessy past. Especially if they still describe present me.”
Ash laughed and turned back to the sky. “You love sparkling wine but hate soda. Banana bread or muffins are a yes, but an actual banana—and these areyourwords—is like eating food that has already been chewed.”
She snorted, then covered her mouth with her hand.
“Favorite movie isFerris Bueller’s Day Off. Favorite song to cover—and you sing it at every show—is “To Make You Feel My Love.” Favorite person is your brother, Colt. And though you’ve never had a pet, you love animals and plan to buy a farm someday once you decide to stay put more and tour less.” He cleared his throat. “Though…maybe you’ve already bought a place that I don’t know about, which I guess would be great because it would mean you achieved something you’ve always wanted.” Why, then, did it feel like a punch to the gut when he considered that she might have gone and done this amazing thing on her own? Without him?
Willow was silent for several long moments before he even heard her stir. When he finally had the nerve to look at her, he found her wiping tears from the corners of her eyes.
“Shit,” he hissed. “Wills. I’m sorry. What did I say?” He quickly racked his brain, trying to locate the misstep so he could make it right. But Willow shook her head.
“You didn’t say anything wrong,” she told him, then sniffled.
He straightened in his chair. “Why am I not convinced?”
She let out a tearful laugh. “I just can’t believe you remember all those things about me. You rattled it all off like it was stuff I told you yesterday, butit’s been four years, Ash.Fouryears. You had a life and a career and a marriage, and—”
“And it all paled in comparison to the life I had with you.”
“We didn’t have a life, Murphy. We had make-out sessions backstage and sex in your tour bus bedroom. What if…? What if all we really had was a shared love of music and a dream of making it big?”
He downed the rest of his bubbly and set his cup on the ground. Then he patted the blanket on his lap. “Come here.”
Willow’s eyes widened. She glanced at her still-full cup and then drained it in a few swift gulps. “Liquid courage,” she remarked with a nervous laugh. Then she maneuvered out of her chair, somehow staying under the blanket, and climbed into his lap.
Ash pulled the blanket tight over her shoulders and then wrapped his arms around her waist. “It was the only life I knew,” he told her. “And you were the best part of it.” He slid a hand up to her cheek and brushed his thumb across the damp skin beneath her eye. “There’s no stage,” he whispered. “No tour bus.”
Willow nodded slowly. “I noticed you didn’t pack any guitars. Does that mean we’re off the clock?”
“That’s exactly what it means.” He leaned up and brushed his lips across hers. “I know you’re looking for any reason to logic your way out of thinkingthis could work. But this?” He motioned between them. “Us? It has nothing to do with the business part of our relationship and everything to do with the fact thatyou, Willow Morgan, do this thing to my heart that thousands of fans singing my own words back to me could never do.”
She gave him a teary smile. “What’s that?” she asked, thankfully taking the bait.
He pressed his lips together and swallowed the knot in his throat. “You fill it up, Wills. You fill it up.”
