“I’m hoping,” her breath seemed to catch, and her words cracked. “I’m hoping we could actually stay married. I have an entire closet at your house waiting for me. I just… I don’t want to hurt you.”
Hands on his hips, he stared at the beige hotel carpet as something cracked inside him. Something that he hadn’t realized had hardened.
“Our house,” he said. “Community property, and all that. It’sourhouse.”
“I love you,” she murmured.
“That’s the best news I’ve heard in a long time, Noodle Cup.” He didn’t grin, but he didn’t frown either. This was happy. This was perfection.
“I made you so much pie,” she said. “So. Much. Pie.”
“I’ve been promised a lot of homemade pie for a while now,” he said, sauntering toward her. “But it never comes through.”
“Oh.” She looked up at him as he got closer. “I came through.”
He touched the side of her temple. “Are you okay?” he asked, gently. “I close my eyes and see you falling. I can’t breathe when I think about you hurt like that.”
“I’m fine. My skull is remarkably dense, it turns out.” She smiled and lifted up on her toes to brush her mouth against him. “That came in handy.”
He’d been pretty certain that the butterflies-in-his-stomach days were over, but there they were. She kissed him and he got all kinds of butterflies.
“What comes next?” he asked. “After the pie?”
“We could make plans, but sometimes you plan a big white wedding and still wind up in a red dress getting married on a pirate ship.” She stepped closer to him. “And that turns out pretty epic.”
“We do have a lot of fun,” he said.
“You asked what happens next? I have to finish filming while you finish the tour. Then after we meet back in Denver and when opportunities come up, we coordinate so we’re not away from each other for so long.”
“I like that plan.” He wrapped his arms around her, holding her against him, letting the pieces of his life click into place and all the extra bullshit fall away.
“I’m not giving up my career, but I’m not giving you up either,” she murmured.
“That’s good, since I’m not giving up my career, and I’m not giving up on you either.” He pressed his lips to the crown of her head. “I also did something today that I thought you’d like.”
“Yeah?” She snuggled against him in that way of hers.
“Mom called and asked me to fly to New York to meet with some bigwig she needs on her side. He’s a Dimefront fan. I told her she could bring him to a concert, but that’s it.”
“You seriously did?”
“I even answered her call on the first ring and didn’t panic about the birds chirping.” He waggled his eyebrows.
“Now thatisprogress.” Somehow they were going to make this work, he had faith in that now.
“I love you, Knox,” she said against his shoulder.
“I love you, Irina,” he said right back.
They stood that way for a long, long time. Grasping onto each other and not letting go.
But when they finally did, she showed him to the bedroom, where she’d laid out more pie than he’d ever seen in his life. There was cherry, apple, blueberry, chocolate, vanilla, butterscotch, even a pizza.
“That is a lot of pie,” he said.
“Promised and delivered.” She squeezed his hand.
Yeah, he loved his girl, and he’d keep writing her songs as long as she’d listen because as long as she kept making him pie, he’d keep eating it.
