“Maisie…it’s your bigness, the radiance you wear like a crown, that I fell in love with.”
I lift my palm to my chest and inhale quickly.
Did he just say the “L” word?
But he’s moving on already as if it was completely natural to mention that he loves me.
“The way you feel everything. Say the hard things. Laugh as if the world’s still worth celebrating. You’re not too much—you’re exactly enough.”
He takes my face between his warm palms and meets my eyes.
“Don’t ever shrink for me. Promise me that.”
I can’t answer. My voice is clogged with gratitude and relief that he understands, sees me, and wants the real me.
He kisses me then, again and again, achingly slow, composing a tender, true melody with each unhurried touch, not rushing a single note.
My heart pumps madly. He pulls away, keeping his eyes closed.
When he stands, offering me his hand, I take it.
But he doesn’t lead me down the hallway toward the bedroom, where I expected him to. Instead, he stands in place, right there in front of the couch, not moving anywhere, and catches my other hand with his. Then he weaves all our fingers together, forming the single, interlocked shape of one fist between us. Everything in his touch says he wants to savor each second and treasure each touch.
He lifts our bundle of fingers until they rest directly over his heart, then presses them together flat against his chest. I can see them rise and fall with each inhale and exhale.
“Maisie,” he says, his voice husky and filled with the impact of our newfound physical bond. “There’s no doubt in my mind that I want to be with you. When I look into the future, I see you in every scene. I can’t even imagine the emptiness I would feel if you weren’t there.”
My eyes glisten. I swallow and lower my chin briefly before bringing my eyes back to his and listen with my entire being to this man that I have fallen in love with.
“I’ve spent all this time since I left the band hiding. Holding parts of myself back.” He pauses, brushing his thumb along the back of my hand. “But not with you. With you, I want to share everything—my thoughts and emotions. My music…my body.”
His voice catches slightly, and when he goes on, it’s steadier. “I want you to have all of it. Because I trust you with all of me.”
He squeezes my hand. “You and me—we see the real versions of each other. And we still stay. I know that now. And I hope you do, too.”
Without letting go of my hands, Beau softly caresses mycheeks, now damp with tears, with one of his thumbs freed from within our clasped hands.
These tears are not sad ones. They’re tears of joy, of feeling wanted.
In barely more than a whisper, I assure him, “I do. I do know that, Beau. And I trust you with all of me also.”
He nods, his eyes so full of love it almost seems as if it will overflow—too much love for one vessel, brimming past the edges of what one heart can hold. My world is completely changing. The night feels bright and golden, as though I’ve discovered buried treasure I get to keep forever. It’s not the room that’s changed—it’s me. All the past versions of myself have stepped aside to make space for this one, the one who gets to be loved like this.
Beau goes on, his voice holding back tears of his own, “And because of that—because what we have is so real—I want our first time to be within the bounds of a forever commitment.”
His words land in the center of me, glowing and powerful. A stillness takes over, not hesitation, but awe. Because this isn’t simply desire. It’s devotion.
“I want to give myself to you…when I’m your husband.”
I gasp softly, and in that second, I realize that’s what I want, also. I want to be this man’s wife and let the physical crescendo of our love wait until after we are married.
Beau releases my hands and pulls me into a tight embrace. I’m amazed how, in only this one week, I’ve come to love him so much. And how perfectly our bodies fit together. This space in his arms, pressed against him, was made for me.
After a few minutes, he presses a kiss to the top of my head, then rests his chin there and says, “Maisie, I’m gonnabe honest, I either need to walk you home now or take a cold shower.”
I laugh, not breaking the spell but loosening the pull between us just enough for us to make our way out the front door. Beau walks slowly, and I match his pace, not wanting the night to end.
I trace a finger over the back of his hand.
