River tells me, “Once I read the note you left me, I knew I had nothing to worry about, no reason to be jealous.”
He believes me and I believe him; we both trust each other because, after all, isn’t that what love is—knowing someone can crush you, but believing they never will, trusting them not to?
We talk about everything else that has happened between us over the last few weeks—our urgent sex needs, his tantrums, my running away, my avoidance, and his need to protect me. These are talks from the heart and they open up many old wounds for both of us, but it is okay. We even discuss his fervent need to protect the women he loves. He has a hard time explaining it, but I get it. I think it stems back to his father’s selfishness. In the end we both decide we will work toward communicating better.
We also talk about the tour. He doesn’t want that life and I respect him for knowing when too much is just too much. He tells me Xander, Nix, and even Garrett aren’t talking to him right now. He makes a joke that he’s glad his mother is out of town or he’s sure she would have organized a sit-down. We both laugh at the thought, but we’re also laughing because the seriousness of this rift among the band is more than we can bear.
Finally, we talk about what happened the last two nights, and how that couldn’t happen again. We both agreed. I regretted that I didn’t go home and stayed the night here alone the same way he had the night he stormed out. He knew why I went to a hotel, but I needed to know why he didn’t come home. He explained that he went to Smitten’s and was pretty drunk by the time Xander, Nix, and Garrett found him there. They all went back to Garrett’s house and spent the night arguing. Xander and Nix walked out and then Garrett and him drank until they both passed out. When he woke up Garrett took him back to get his car and then he came home, but by that time I was gone. All that was left was my note. He told me after he read my note he, too, found the strength to look past the chaos. So much had happened in such a short period of time and we just weren’t prepared for it. Neither one of us ever doubted the true strength of our relationship, but we doubted each other’s investment in it and that was the scariest part.
After baring our souls to each other we lie together, embracing as if we are one. We know our love is strong; we have withstood what we hope to be one of the biggest issues we will ever have to face—Ben’s return. I know we are much stronger because of it.
Once the hard conversations are over we enjoy the peacefulness of just being alone together. I’m lying on my side, mindlessly twirling one of my diamond stud earrings and he’s watching me intently.
“Did I ever tell you my parents had a thing for birthdays?”
He smirks. “Most parents do, Dahlia.”
“No, I mean really. They had an obsession. They would start asking me what I wanted for my birthday months ahead of time. For my twelfth birthday I told them I wanted a carousel. Now I meant a musical one, but they rented out the merry-go-round at Griffith Park for an entire Saturday afternoon. It was amazing.”
With a wicked grin he slides his fingers down my bare stomach. “I could rent it out for your next birthday and we could have some fun if you’re still into merry-go-rounds, that is?”
“Hey.” I feign offense. “What can I say?—I was twelve and liked riding the ponies!”
He laughs so hard he’s almost crying. “You walked right into that one.”
Laughing along with him I say, “Yeah, I did.”
Holding his stomach, he takes a deep breath and manages, “Okay, tell me about another outrageous birthday present.”
“See these?” I say, pointing to my earrings. “Well, for my thirteenth birthday I told my parents I wanted something that sparkled like Ariel’s mermaid tale. And these are what I got.”
He kisses my forehead. “They’re beautiful. And Dahlia, I can understand why your parents wanted to always make you happy. They loved you.”
Then, as if deep in thought, he starts caressing my back and humming the “Happy Birthday” song. I suddenly have a strong desire to hear him play. It’s been so long since we’ve shared that intimacy and I’m craving it. “River, can I ask you to do something?”
He leans over and kisses me then he whispers in my ear, “Sure. Are you ready for dessert?”
I almost forgot what I wanted to ask him when his lips meet mine again, but I quickly remember. “Well, of course, but first will you play ‘Never in Pieces’ for me?”
He props up his elbows. “Now?” he says as he leans back down and resumes kissing me, this time trailing feather-soft kisses up my neck.
“Yes, please,” I beg.
He sits up and gets off the bed. “God, why can’t I ever say no to you?”
“Because you love me so much?” I smile at him.
“Yes I do, my girl, that I do,” he says while pulling up his boxers. And I notice what I didn’t notice before, that he’s wearing his Pac-Man boxers.
My breath quickens just watching him. I suck in a breath and happy tears form in my eyes. “You wore my favorite boxers.”
He grins his familiar heart-stopping grin and winks at me as he tugs on the waistband and nods. Then he picks up his guitar and sits on the edge of the bed. The muscles in his back flex in a way that makes me want to lick a line around each one. He twists sideways and his abs and pecs ripple with each movement. I bite down on my lower lip in anticipation as he sets himself up. His strong arm cradles the guitar as he rests it on his thigh. He looks over at me and pats his free hand on the bed, motioning for me to sit next to him. Closing the distance between us, I study him further as he begins to play. His nimble fingers pick the fret board and I am mesmerized as he moves with an effortless ease. Watching him I can almost feel his fingers touching me with the same gentle ease. My eyes travel from his fingers up his arm. I study the muscles in his forearm, how his leg bobs up and down as his shoulders rock back and forth.
I look at his face—even with his eyes closed he’s beautiful. Strong jaw, sculpted nose, smooth skin—as I soak in the sight of him he’s fully entranced in the music he’s creating. And then he opens his eyes and smiles and I melt. His green eyes gleam and his dimples come to life. He’s the epitome of sexiness and he’s mine. He glances over at me as he sings the chorus and my smile couldn’t be any bigger. And just as his body sways to the beat of the chorus so does mine.
There are no pieces, I promise you
Glass can shatter and bones may break
But I will always call, I will always find you
Our love is strong
Let me ease your mind, let me in, I will always love you
I will always love you
We’ll never be in pieces
River is my future. I love him, I trust him, I need him. I lay my head on his shoulder and peek up at him. I’m completely captivated by his adorable expression while he’s so engrossed in the music. When he finishes playing he sets the guitar down.
“I love that song.”
Happily he says, “I love you.” He laces his fingers in mine. “Are you tired?”
I look at the clock; it’s only noon, but feels like midnight. I yawn a little and he laughs. “I think that would be a yes,” he says as he pulls me down to the bed.
“River, can we stay here tonight?” I just want to put my head on his chest and listen to his heartbeat . . . to shut out the rest of the world for just a little while longer.
He kisses my head. “Yeah, I was planning on it,” he says as he yawns and stretches. I think he’s asleep before I even close my eyes.
Hours pass while we both sleep soundly. When I wake, I can see the sun is just about to set. I turn toward the window trying not to wake him. The view that I ignored when I first arrived is magnificent. The beach is so beautiful and the mountains are majestic. This sunset would make a beautiful photo.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” he whispers in my ear.
I turn toward him and give him a soft kiss. “I thought you were still sleeping.”
“No, I was just laying here thinking.”
“What about?”
His body covers mine and he props himself up on his hands, one on either side of my face. “Our life together. What it will be like.”
“What do you see for us?”
He collapses his full weight on me. “Besides this,” he says, kissing me, tugging on my lower lip before rolling to his side and draping his arm around me. Pulling me close, he grins. “I see us together, married. Having kids. Doing fun family things that our kids will never forget.”
I feel myself tremble as I imagine our perfect life—our children’s lives being complete unlike either of ours were as children. “How many kids do you want?”
He shrugs his shoulders. “As many or as few as you want.”
Smiling so hard, my face hurts; I run my fingers along his cheek. “Three, I think three. Yours is the perfect-sized family.”
Kissing my fingers he says, “Yeah, it is. Three is a good number.”
His eyes smile with that light I love and I ask, “What?”
He rubs his hand over my stomach. “I was just thinking about how beautiful you’re going to look pregnant.”
Tears of joy escape my eyes before I kiss him. Kiss him with love, with adoration, and a happiness that makes my stomach flutter.
He nestles his head on my shoulder and we lay quiet for a while, listening to the rain and just enjoying being together.
After a while River looks up at me. “I love you,” he whispers and his warm breath sends a shiver down my spine.
“Me, too.”
“You love yourself?”
“No silly, I love you.”
I feel his mouth against my neck. “Can we promise to always use words to tell each other how we feel?”
“Of course,” I say because I can promise him that. I want to spend my life with him. I love him more than words can ever express.
Reaching his hand down between my legs, he smirks and coyly says, “I’ll take ‘of course’ as a green light in any conversation we have from now on.”
Giggling because it wasn’t long ago that he said “of course” couldn’t be assumed in any conversation and now he’s laughing about it, I hop off the bed and go find my jeans. Reaching into my pocket I pull the guitar pick out and close it in my hand. Back in bed next to him, he just looks at me skeptically. Opening my palm I show him the pick that reads, “I love you.”
Eyeing the pick he says, “I knew which one was missing immediately and I want that back, you know.” Then he gently lifts my hand and kisses it and the pick together. “I love you, too.”
God, I love everything about him and I don’t want to wait another day to be his wife and have his babies. I prop my elbow on the pillow and rest my chin on my hand. Pressing into him so that our bodies are melded together I ask, “River Wilde, will you marry me?”
“You can’t ask me that, I’ve already asked you that question.” His hand moves to my backside and pushes me further into him—solidifying us as a single unit.
“No, I mean marry me tomorrow. We can go home, grab a bag, and head to Vegas.”
His hand slides down my thigh. “I don’t know. My proposal was much more romantic. I’m the kind of guy who likes to be wined and dined, and, besides, I’m not sure we can hop a flight to Vegas naked.”
Hiding my smile I tell him, “Alright Loverboy, no making fun of my proposal. It was impromptu.”
He grabs my left hand, lifts it to his mouth, and kisses my ring. “I would love to marry you, Dahlia London. Tomorrow can’t come soon enough.”
I smile widely and lean in to kiss him.
He pulls away, and draws an x over his heart. “And I promise you’ll never regret marrying me.”
