“What do you mean you sold them?Why?”
Propping myself up on my elbow, the soft beam of the moon barely lighting the room, I can see the peaceful ease that crosses his face.He looks like this is where he belongs, and it’s really strange the way this has all played out.
Miles wanted nothing more than for his band to be successful, to take off and tour the world.And that’s exactly what happened, but sometimes you can wish for something, want it so bad, and have it come true.Only to realize life was better before.
But without it, Miles and I wouldn’t be here right now.We wouldn’t know the deep ache of losing each other or the blissful feeling of getting it all back.
“I don’t need them,” he rasps, sleep taking over, and I curl into him.Resting my head on his chest, I listen to the sound of his beating heart.
“Thank you,” I murmur, my lips pressing a soft kiss right over where his heart drums out a steady rhythm.
He doesn’t have to say it.He sold the guitars for money—money that will or has been used to create our life together.It’s the most selfless and beautiful thing about him.The way he gives without the expectation of anything in return.The way he came back and stood silently by while I carried around my anger, fighting my urge to forgive him.While I dated his friend out of spite and revenge.
I was a horrible person, and his forgiveness means everything.He will never have to question my feelings for him again because I will spend the rest of my life reminding him that I love him more than anyone or anything in this world.
“For what?”
“For this.Our house.The bakery.For forgiving me.”
“Daisy, my life would be nothing without you in it.This wasn’t just your dream.It was our dream—a dream we talked about and a dream I would give anything to make happen.Leaving you was awful, and while I regret it every fucking day, I wouldn’t have been able to make this happen.”
Miles has never told me how much money he made off the album or the tour, but judging by all the sold-out stadiums and the big names the band opened for, it was substantial.
He pulls me closer, and I wish I had the right words to say—the words that would make everything that happened in our past disappear—but all I can do is hold him.
“I love you, Miles.”
“I love you so fucking much, Daze.”
The next morning goes by so quickly, with Miles heading out early for lessons, and I spend it cleaning up the house.We were both so tired after having our friends over that we left everything and went to bed.
It’s just before eleven when I walk into the bar to help Lisa out with the lunch rush, and it’s already starting to get busy.
Jumping right in, I begin running food and taking orders.While the lunch rush is a great time to make tips, nothing beats being here in the evenings.I’ve gotten away from working nights now that Miles is back, and we’re spending our evenings working on the cottage and the bakery.
I’m so lucky to have a boss like Lisa who is supportive of what I’m doing.Without her understanding, I’m not sure I’d be able to keep my job and try to get the bakery up and running.
The time passes quickly, and I’ve only been here for thirty minutes, but it’s packed, and I don’t even hear the door open or see Isaac standing at the end of the bar.
Lisa jabs me in the side with a soft elbow, tilting her head in his direction, and my eyes fall on him waiting, clearly waiting for me.
Letting out a hard sigh, I finish taking the order for the person in front of me before slipping past Lisa.
She stills me with a hand wrapped around my wrist.“You want me to handle this?”she asks, a stoic look on her face.
She knows we can’t throw him out unless he does something stupid, and right now, all he’s doing is standing at the end of the bar.
I shake my head, closing my eyes as I will myself to remain calm, not drawing attention to him, which is exactly what he wants.He wants the entire bar watching us as he gets under my skin, making me look like the asshole.
“Carry out or dining in?”I ask before I even reach him, taking my order pad from the small apron tied around my waist.
“Did you get the note I left you at your house?”he asks me, a smug grin plastered across his face.Smarmy and sick, it’s a question that’s asked with complete disdain and designed to catch me off guard.
And while it does, I try so fucking hard to not let it show on my face.
“Nope,” I simply state, tapping my pen on the edge of the counter.“Did you want to order?”
“You didn’t get my note?”he asks again, and my need to roll my eyes is so strong that I’m giving myself a headache holding back.“Guessing Miles made sure of that.”
