34
Ryan drove backto his house on Riverside Road, his heart thumping inside his chest in anticipation of what he planned to do when he got there.
He’d known this was what he wanted from the moment he’d watched Grace cuddle Stanley in her arms after the little dog was found in the woods earlier that day. Seeing the tenderness on her face and her obvious affection for the scrappy terrier had melted the final icy shards of resistance inside Ryan’s heart.
The words his grandmother had uttered at the train station as they’d hugged goodbye had only strengthened his resolve.
Don’t wait to tell Grace how you feel, my boy,his grandmother had whispered.Whether she stays in Hamblehurst or chases after that job in York, you must take the risk and let her know how you feel about her before it’s too late.
His grandmother’s advice was sage, as always, but on this occasion, her words had only hurried him to do something he already wanted to do.
When they returned to his house and went inside, Stanley scampered to his bed in the kitchen-dining area, where he promptly curled up and fell asleep.
“Today has taken it out of the little guy,” Grace laughed.
“I’m not surprised,” Ryan said, and held out his hand. “Come with me.”
Her expression was curious as she slipped her hand into his. Ryan led her to the sofas in the seating area and asked her to sit down, and told her he’d be right back.
In his study, he picked up his acoustic guitar along with the blue leather notebook his grandmother had given him. Opening the cover, his eyes flicked over the lyrics to the song he’d written.
Lost And Found.
A smile crept across his face when he realised he’d rehearsed the song so many times inside his head since writing it, that he already knew the lyrics by heart. He no longer needed the notebook to remind him of any part of the song.
Returning to the living area where he’d left Grace, he sat on the sofa opposite and propped the guitar across his thighs.
When he let out a long breath to calm himself, he had another realisation—he didn’t need to calm himself. He was ready for this moment.
And he was ready for the risk he was about to take.
As he tuned the guitar, he looked up into Grace’s intent expression and smiled.
“A few nights ago, I played music for you, music you inspired me to write,” Ryan said. “But I wasn’t ready to share the lyrics, for reasons you already know. But I’m ready now.” He let out a soft laugh and added, “I think I was always ready, from the moment I wrote those lyrics, but I just didn’t realise it.”
From her spot on the other sofa, Grace held his gaze, and he saw the expectation and excitement in her eyes, the emotions flashing across her face as she waited for him to begin.
Electricity sizzled in the air between them, and when Ryan played the first chord of the song he’d written for the woman sitting opposite, its warmth and tenderness filled the room.
Ryan strummed the guitar and began to sing, the opening verse telling the story of a broken heart lost in a cold and lonely world.
The shift to the chorus brought the release of the major key and the plaintive call of a man who was falling in love.
And once he reached the bridge and the final crescendo of the repeated chorus, Ryan knew he’d opened his soul and laid everything on the line.
Lost and found, your heart is my home.
Lost and found, your heart is my home.
Lost and found, your heart is my home, my home, my home.
Ryan sang the last words, his voice breaking with emotion, and played the final chords that brought the song to a close. As the guitar strings stilled and the music faded, he looked deep into Grace’s eyes.
A week ago, the idea of sitting here in his house singing this song to this woman he’d only just met, singing these crushingly honest lyrics to this woman he’d only just met, would’ve seemed crazy.
To do so while staring deep into her eyes would’ve struck him as crazier still.
And yet it didn’t feel crazy at all. It felt completely perfect.
