I crossed the room so fast Itripped over the edge of the rug, stumbling into Fox’s chest. He caught me evenwith one hand occupied, steadying me before he passed the case over.
“Go on.” He nodded to thecouch. “It’s yours to play with.”
Laughter welled up in thepit of my stomach. Fox hadperfect boyfrienddown to a fine art.
Even if he had tried toteach me to iron.
The lesson hadn’t stuck, and nowI was teachinghimhow to use strategic folding to save the effort. Hewasn’tsold on the idea yet, but I planned on wearing him down. Life was too short toiron.
All that time spent ironingcould have been spent cuddling, and I was determined to reclaim it.
“Any particular order I needto taste these in?” Fox asked, heading over to the counter.
“Left to right,” I said.
The familiar scent oflacquered wood rose from the guitar case as soon as I opened it. This wassolid, full-grain mahogany, and must have cost a small fortune. It was a simplething, but it was beautiful all the same.
I dug the pack of stringsout of the pocket in the top of the case and got to work, glancing up at Fox ashe tasted the various cups of tea.
“Thoughts?” I asked, windingthe first string into position. I hadn’t done this in so long that it felt slowand clumsy, but I didn’t care. Holding a guitar again made mehappy.
“My first thought is thatyou don’t need to go to all this trouble,” Fox said. “It means enough to methat you bother to make me a cuppa at all.”
I shrugged. “It means a lotto you,” I said. “You’re so easy to make happy. You like cups of tea andblankets fresh from the dryer and cooking shows. Even though you can’t cook.”
“I like watching other peopledo things they’re good at,” Fox said. “Fell in love with you watching you sing.And write. And just… be yourself, at your best. At your happiest.”
“So you’re more in love withme now, right?” I asked, winding another string into place. “Because I’m happierthan I’ve ever been.”
Fox smiled a shy smile,looking down into the cup of tea he was holding. “Hurts to look at you,sometimes,” he said softly. “My heart feels like it’s about to burst with joyat just… having you around.”
“Mine too,” I admitted, smilingdown at the string I was adjusting.
It was a lot easier to writelove songs now that all I ever had to do was look up and see Fox sitting on theother end of the couch, relaxing after work. Being near him made me feel sofull of love and want and need that I had enough feelings to write anotherhundred albums on the back of.
I’d filled two thicknotebooks since I moved in here.
It’d only been three weeks.
“This one,” Fox said,tapping on the side of the three and a half minute mug. “For preference. Butyou don’t need to time it down to the second.”
“I love you.” I twisted thelast string into place, ready to be tuned. “It’s no big deal to learn a tinything like this.”
“It’s a big deal to me,” Foxsaid. “No one else has ever learned. Not like this.”
I looked up at him again,meeting those impossibly green eyes.
“Lucy texted me today,” Isaid. “To tell me that she’d found people who wanted to talk to me about buyingthe rights to some of my songs.”
“Oh,” Fox responded. “That’s,umm… that’s good, isn’t it?”
He didn’t sound… happy?
Maybe he didn’t understandwhat a big deal it was.
“It’s exactly what I want,”I explained. “It’s what I’ve always dreamed of. I don’twantto be famous. Idon’twant people wearing t-shirts with my face on them. I just wanna… write songs.For other people. It’s enough for me to know.”
“Then it’s wonderful.” Foxsmiled at me, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Do I take it that means you’replanning to move back to LA?”
