Page 37 of Last Chorus (A Perfect Song Duet #2)

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

evangeline

I slip out of bed as dawn brightens the crack between curtains. Wilder’s arm curls over my absence, a small frown flickering across his brow before smoothing as dreams reclaim him.

Drawing a blanket over his shoulder, I study his peaceful face. Dark lashes twitching against golden skin, chaotic waves of hair fanning his forehead and cheek, lips a little swollen and chapped. My fingers lift to my own lips, still tender from last night, and trace the edges of my smile.

We made out like teenagers until we couldn’t keep our eyes open anymore, then stumbled upstairs and fell into bed. I can still hear his whispered, “Love you always,” right as we drifted to sleep.

Leaving him to rest, I retreat to the guest bedroom to dress and brush my teeth, then head downstairs to make a cup of tea. As it steeps, I pull my phone from the charger on the counter and call Lily.

She answers on the second ring, grumbling, “I can’t wait for the day I can sleep past six again.”

“Aww, you won’t miss our morning chats?”

“We’ll move to a decent time. Like ten or eleven.”

I laugh. “I hate to break it to you, but you have another eighteen years before you can sleep in again.”

“More like twenty,” she mutters.

Grinning at the reminder of what she whispered to me at the party yesterday, I ask, “Have you told Rye yet?”

“Hold on.” A door closes in the background and her voice lowers. “No. I’m going to take another test today. Maybe it was a fluke.”

I take my steaming mug to a couch and sit, tucking my legs beneath me.

“Do you want it to be?”

“Not really, but… kind of?” She sighs. “I know it’s lame, but I wanted to get married before we had another baby.”

Inspiration strikes and I straighten eagerly. “You’ve seen Wilder’s property. The gazebo on the water? And there’s a beautiful clearing that would be perfect for a reception. We could plan a wedding in no time at all.”

There’s a small, shocked pause. “Are you serious? ”

“Totally serious. Except for the doing it ourselves part. We’d definitely hire someone.”

She laughs shrilly. “And Wilder would be okay with this? You’re sure?”

“I’ll ask him today, but I’m sure he will be.” I smile to myself. “I have ways of sweetening the deal.”

Lily squeals, the sound muffled like she’s covering her mouth.

“Is that a yes?”

Another squeal. “Yes! Let’s do it. Oh my gosh, this is amazing. Can I call you later? I have to tell Rye we might be pregnant again and that we’re finally getting married.”

“Of course. Say hi to—” I laugh when I realize she’s already hung up.

“I love that sound.”

I whip my head around, a different smile blooming at the sight of Wilder turning the corner into the living room.

“What are you doing up? It’s barely seven.”

He shrugs, not answering. I’m not sure I’d hear a reply anyway, my brain fogging as I take in his bare chest and the pajama pants riding low on his hips. My eyes wander greedily, lingering on the dips of muscle cradling his ink-littered abs before dropping lower.

Pajamas beat gray sweatpants any day of the week .

“And I love it when you look at me like that,” he purrs.

I hide my smile behind my mug. “Are you flirting with me?”

He pauses to yawn and stretch, the movements slow and intentional, arms lifting, muscles bunching and extending as he rotates and bends from side to side. I ogle him shamelessly until a chuckle lifts my gaze from the music notes wrapping around his hip.

Even his dimples look smug as he sits and pats his lap. I dutifully unfold my legs and give him my feet.

As his thumbs work magic on my soles, he says idly, “Everything, and I mean everything I do, is me flirting with you. Case in point—the tattoo you were just staring at.” He lifts my feet so I can see it. “Do you recognize the song?”

Leaning forward, I study the notes and my mouth drops open in shock. Not only is it the Night Theory song that put us on the map, it’s my handwriting.

Wilder snorts. “I don’t know whether to be offended or proud that the thought of my dick is so distracting you’ve never actually read the music.”

I trail a finger over the notes, gratified when he shivers. He lowers my feet back to his lap and resumes massaging them .

I can’t seem to stop smiling. “What about when we argue? Are you still flirting then?”

“Definitely.” He slants a knowing smile my way. “I knew that comment I made on New Year’s would piss you off.”

I laugh, then lower my voice in a comic impersonation of his. “‘You’ve never even seen me flirt. In any case, I think we can agree that ship has sailed.’” I punch his shoulder playfully. “Asshole.”

He grins, lifting my foot to kiss my ankle. “Undeniably your asshole.”

I arch a brow. “Speaking of…”

Wilder throws his head back and laughs, the sound rich and lovely, his stomach shaking under my feet.

I watch him in a lovestruck daze, my ears and heart full.

He’s still grinning when he plucks my mug from my hands and puts it on the coffee table, then pulls me into his lap.

Grabbing his shoulders, I roll my hips and grin as his eyes darken.

Just when I think he’s going to crack, his hands tighten on my waist to stop my movements.

“Fairy, wait.”

The regret on his face protects me from the sting of rejection, but I still frown. “What’s wrong?”

He hesitates, fear flashing in his eyes. And I know .

“Already?” I whisper .

Confusion draws his eyebrows together. “Already what?”

I move off his lap and settle beside him, then reach for my tea. A long sip fortifies me.

“Katherine warned me something bad was coming.” I glance at him, catching his shocked expression before resignation replaces it.

He leans forward on his elbows, fingers tangling in his hair. “What did she say exactly?”

“‘A storm approaches, and only together can you keep the light safe.’ She made it clear that you’re the light.”

Head jerking up, he twists to face me. Reading the wary hope on his face, I belatedly realize his fear wasn’t about whatever news he’s received but about my reaction to it. He was worried I was going to leave him.

Taking his closest hand, I thread our fingers together. “She basically told me to pull my head out of my ass and trust you. And I do, Wilder. I trust you—and us—implicitly. Whatever it is you need to tell me, I’m not going to run. I’m not leaving you. We’re going to face it together.”

A moment later his mouth is on mine, the kiss deep, fierce, and all too brief. Cradling my face, he whispers, “You’re amazing. I love you. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything yesterday. ”

I nip at his lower lip. “It’s okay. I’m used to you withholding crucial information due to misplaced protective instincts.”

He huffs a laugh. “I take it I have Katherine to thank for last night?”

I wince. “Pretty much.”

“So stubborn,” he murmurs, his eyes alight with humor.

“I would have gotten around to confessing my love eventually,” I mutter.

He gives me a quick, smiling kiss. “You need to eat before this conversation. Veggie omelet and a smoothie okay?”

I almost protest, but his knowing look stops me. With a sigh, I concede that he’s right. My stomach is already grumbling at the mention of food, and it won’t be long before I’m officially hangry.

“That sounds good.”

Hearing the undertone of irritation, he smirks. “Proud of you, baby.”

I grab a throw pillow and chuck it at his head.