“You’d really do that?”
“I’m not giving anything up, Autumn. I’m getting my life back, and I want you in it. Every day. Not just on a screen.” He kissed my knuckles. “I’m not quitting music. I’m redefining it. Choosing how I do it, and I’m choosing you. I’m choosing us and a life that includes both the things I love instead of forcing me to pick one.”
Tears spilled down my cheeks. “Cole.”
“I know it’s not perfect. There will still be trips to Nashville for studio time. Weekend shows in Charlotte or Atlanta. But my home, our home, will be here in Asheville with you.”
I grabbed his face and kissed him hard. He responded immediately, pulling me off the chair and into his arms, his hands in my hair, his body solid and here.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered against his mouth. “For pulling away and not fighting. For being so scared I couldn’t see what you were offering.”
“Stop apologizing.” He kissed down my neck. “Just tell me you want this. Tell me you want us.”
“I want us. I want all of you. Every complicated, beautiful, chaotic piece of you.”
His smile could’ve lit up the whole world. “Good. Because you’re stuck with me now.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
“Move in with me,” I said.
He pulled back, eyes wide. “What?”
“Move in with me. My apartment’s bigger than a hotel room, and if you’re staying in Asheville, you’ll need a place. So. Move in.”
His smile could’ve powered the sun. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s a big step.”
“I’m tired of small steps. I want all of you. The parts that make music and the parts that come home to me. I want us. Eventually, we can look for a place all our own, but for now…”
He kissed me, soft and sweet. “Yes. Absolutely yes.”
Then he swept me up like he’d done that first night in my apartment, and I yelped.
“Cole!”
“Celebrating.” He carried me to the bed, laid me down gently. “We’re celebrating.”
“How?”
His hands went to the zipper of my dress. “I have some ideas. You look incredibly sexy in this dress, and I can’t wait to get you out of it.”
And just like that, we were starting over.
Together.
Chapter 10
SIX MONTHS LATER
I stood in our backyard—ourbackyard, with a garden I was slowly killing—watching Cole and Decker set up for a show. Garbage lounged on the patio in a patch of sunlight, his bow tie from the engagement party still tucked in his collar like a trophy. Salem perched on the fence, black tail swishing, tolerating the chaos with typical feline disdain. He still hissed at me, but he loved Cole.
We’d adopted them both the week we moved in together. Eli pretended to be sad about losing his “favorite chaos agent,” but I’d caught him crying when we loaded Garbage into the car.
