Page 44 of All Tied Down

Because he did those things and still allowed me to keep my dignity in a moment of nostalgic oversharing.

A moment of vulnerability.

A moment that was never meant to be said aloud.

GARRETT

On any given day while on tour, I can stand on stage in front of tens of thousands of people and sing.

Rock.

Lose myself in the music.

And never feel as stripped raw as I do in this moment.

“It doesn’t make you a bad person, Garrett, and it doesn’t make your parents bad either. Maybe I wouldn’t have stayed if my mom had lived. Maybe I wouldn’t have been so terrified of what would’ve happened if I left.”

The words are like a bass drum pounding in the back of my mind as I hold my hand out for Emerson and guide her to the sidewalk. There’s no security here tonight.

No cameras.

No official stop on the itinerary of our fake marriage.

It’s just us and her father and a memory of a time when things were simpler.

It’s a lot to live up to and even more knowing that she shared something unintentional with me in the car. There’d been a breath of time that had come to a standstill between us—when the gravity of what had been said lay like a weighted blanket in the front seat.

I don’t know how but I’d felt her panic.

Her need for me to let it go.

And I did with a silent promise to take her secret to the grave.

“Are you ready?” she asks, her fingers laced with mine as we cross the sidewalk to the door.

“Are you?”

“Yeah,” she says, her smile soft. “I’m just Emmy here. Mr. and Mrs. Dominic are the only ones that call me that—it’s another reason I can’t stay away.”

The words I fucking love you want to burst out of me because how could anyone look at this woman and think anything other than forever and mine and I will give you anything your heart desires.

But I don’t say that because now is not the time. Following her lead, we step into the small, dimly lit restaurant with the red-and-white tiled floor and old paintings of Italy framed on the walls. My stomach growls at the onslaught of garlic and bread and sauce I know is cooking in what’s most likely an equally small kitchen.

They’re probably going to have to roll me out of here because I’m going to have to try everything on the menu. Is this the kind of place that has a menu? Maybe they just give you what the special is and that’s it.

“Mr. Dominic, it’s so good to see you,” Emerson says, clasping the old man’s hands in hers and kissing both of his cheeks.

“You’re just as beautiful as ever.” He beams, his silver hair curled in the front, the way Elvis had worn it, and his eyes bright as he studies her. “And who did you bring me to feed tonight?”

“This is my husband, Garrett. He’s a musician.”

“Husband?” He scoffs as I extend my hand. “What, no invite to the wedding?” His accent is heavily Chicago Italian and it makes me smile as we shake.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you. And as for the wedding, it was spontaneous while we were on vacation. I’m hoping she’ll let me plan something here.”

He harrumphs but winks at Emerson who I very intentionally do not look at because there’s no way she’d let me plan anything.

Not with the clock ticking on this arrangement.