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But it’s the small moments that matter most. The way he brings me coffee in bed. How he insists on taste-testing everything I cook, even though half the time he burns his tongue because he’s too impatient to wait for it to cool. The proud look in his eyes when he catches me singing off-key to one of his songs while I work.
My business might be slower, but I’ve never been happier. Besides, glancing at the notebook where I’ve been sketching out ideas, maybe it’s time for a change. Maybe this is the universe’s way of pushing me toward something new.
Something that combines my love of food with this crazy, beautiful life I’ve stumbled into.
I just haven’t figured out what that is yet.
But for now, I hear Luke’s footsteps, probably drawn by the smell of coffee and whatever he thinks I might be baking. And I know, with absolute certainty, that I wouldn’t change a thing.
Well, maybe one thing—I should probably start keeping suntan oil in the bedroom.
Thirty-Four
Luke
“No way,” I say for what feels like the hundredth time, but the band isn’t having it.
“Dude, you wrote a love song,” Vince grins from behind his guitar. “An actual, honest-to-God love song. We should play it. Live. Tonight.”
We’re in final rehearsals for tonight’s one-off televised show, and I’m going to kill Kendrick for mentioning the song. She’d helped me polish the lyrics and turn my raw emotions into something coherent, but it was never meant for anyone else to hear.
Cass shakes his head. “Come on, man. You need to take the spotlight on this one.”
“Luke, you need to sing this. It’s beautiful, and It’syoursong.“ Kendrick chimes in.
“I’m not a singer,” I protest, fingers hovering over my keyboard. “There’s a reason I stay back here.”
“Phil Collins was just a drummer,” Nate points out, twirling his drumsticks. “Then Genesis needed a singer, and boom—legend.”
“That’s different—“
“Luke.” Cass’s voice cuts through my objections. “Play the damn song. Kendrick said it’s great, and she should know.”
They spend the next fifteen minutes badgering me until finally—finally—I play them the song. When I finish, there’s silence.
“Holy shit,” Nate whispers.
“Yeah,” Vince agrees. “We’re playing it. You’ll owe us, man, because that’s gonna make Lila cry.”
“We’re all gonna cry,” Emily corrects,already wiping her eyes.
I look at each of them—my bandmates, my family, really. Cass looking annoyingly smug, and so is Kendrick. Vince pretending to wipe away tears. Nate trying not to smile.
“Fine,” I concede, then hold up a hand before they can celebrate. “But only if I can sing it to her—directly to her.”
“Meaning?” Cass leans forward.
A plan starts forming in my mind. The song isn’t the only secret I’ve been keeping.
“Meaning I’d like her to be there, so I can tell her, ask her…”
Understanding dawns on their faces, followed by grins.
“You’re going to—“ Vince starts.
“Don’t say it out loud,” I warn.
“Oh my God,” Emily clasps her hands together. “This is perfect. Do you have the—“