“I didn’t see your text until late last night,” he says after a moment. “I’d turned off my phone, so I was avoiding everyone. Not just you.”
“But I’m not just anyone,” I say in frustration. “I’m supposed to be your girlfriend. We’re supposed to be a couple, united in everything.”
“I couldn’t ask you to choose between me and Tommy. At least, not initially. He’s your family, married to your sister. And that’s not a choice anyone should make. In retrospect, that was ridiculous, but in the heat of the moment, I wasn’t thinking straight.”
“Tommy hasn’t had any contact with his dad since he was twelve. He doesn’t know or care about him.”
“I know that now.” He extends his hand, resting it on my thigh, palm up.
And waits.
I put my hand in his with very little hesitation because…I have to. The need to touch him is stronger than my pride or anything else.
“One of the things I did while I was waiting today was book a virtual appointment with a therapist I found. I know I have some unresolved issues but I’m owning it. And I’m asking you to give me another chance. Because I love you too, Wynter.”
It feels like all the stress and anxiety of the last week drains out of me the minute he says those last few words. I squeeze his hand and then drop my head onto his shoulder.
“You hurt me,” I say gently.
“I know. And I’m sorry.” He kisses my forehead. “But I’m going to make it up to you. Whatever you want me to do, I’m here and willing.”
I smile. “I need you to make up with Tommy.”
“That’s next on my list.”
“I need you to promise you’ll never do this again. I can’t be with someone that runs when things get tough. And no matter how happy we are, how good our life is, there are going to be hard times. I have to trust that you’ll weather those storms with me, at my side.”
“Always.” He sits up and turns, putting his hands on either side of my face. “I love you. I’ve got some issues and I realize that now, but we’re good. If you want to get married or start making babies—I’m down for all of it.”
My eyes widen. “Babies? What about Ross Rockit?”
“Ross Rockit the solo artist is hopefully going to open for Onyx Knight for the European leg of the tour, but that’s it. I’m not interested in recording an album or starting over with my music career. I love my job. Yeah, I love performing too, but I’m not willing to sacrifice the good things I have going for an unknown. I have options, some ideas of things I might do going forward, maybe writing a song for Onyx Knight, stuff like that—but that’s secondary to us. You are my priority. I mean that with all my heart.”
I gaze up into his tired but handsome face. The silver-blue eyes that look like storm clouds. The full, red lips surrounded by a goatee laced with traces of silver. I reach out and trace his lips, his cheekbones, the line of his jaw.
So handsome. So talented. So vulnerable.
And now mine.
“I fell in love with a fantasy when I was twelve,” I say softly. “The music was real but the man wasn’t. Believe it or not, I cried the day of the bus accident. I didn’t know you but I felt like I did because of your music. I was devastated. Not just because people died, but because even at that young age, I could sense how much it must have hurt you. And I loved you. Not like I do now but in a gentle, ethereal way where I hoped you could feel how much love there was for you. How much support.
“Then we met and I saw how damaged you were. I can’t explain it. I just knew you were broken, that you still hadn’t recovered. Not really. Not even after so many years. But I fell in love with Ross Sanderson, and it changed everything. Me, my life, how I view the world—even how I view you. Because the man beneath the Ross Rockit façade is everything I’ve ever wanted and more. You don’t have to be anyone but who you are with me because I love all of you—even the damaged parts.”
“I love you, Wynter.” He leans in and his lips are tender against mine.
“I love you too,” I whisper.
“Can I take you to bed?”
“Yes, please.”
He rises and doesn’t wait for me, merely leans down and scoops me into his arms so he can carry me to the bed. He sets me down gently, like I’m fragile and precious, and I’m immediately swept up in his touch. His kisses. His love.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Ross
We strip away our clothes one slow, patient layer at a time. There’s no urgency because these feelings, the way we’re about to bare our souls, shouldn’t be rushed. The love I feel for her is strong but also fragile. Because life is fragile and I don’t want to take a second of this for granted.
