Page 45 of One More Made Up Love Song (Midnight Rush #2)

I reach for my guitar, mostly because I doubt she’ll let me kiss her again if I don’t.

“So the arbor your dad built,” I ask as I tune up. “Does he anticipate you getting married anytime soon?”

I really like the fact that the question makes her cheeks redden. “I—no,” she quickly says. “He does not have a timeframe. Just thought the arbor would be nice to use when I do get married. Assuming I want to get married on the farm.”

“This would be a really beautiful place to get married,” I say, and her gaze locks on mine.

“You think so?”

“Absolutely.” We’re quiet for a beat before I say, “Your mom showed me a lot of pictures. A lot of you and Daphne. I wish I’d met her.”

Ivy’s smile softens. “Yeah. Me too. But she would have been tough on you.”

“For more than just the fake dating thing? I thought you said she would have loved me.”

“She would have. But she would have teased you about your fame. Definitely about your tattoos. And about the picture of you that was used for all the merch on your first solo tour.”

I groan. “You wound me. You know how much I hated that photo. But what’s wrong with my tattoos?”

“I love your tattoos,” she says, and my heart flips over. “But Daphne would have had questions. She would have made you explain your reasons behind every single one to prove you didn’t get them just to look more like a rockstar.”

“I mean, they don’t exactly hurt my image.”

Ivy grins. “You’re shameless.”

“Unfortunately, that’s part of my job description.”

“Is singing a part of your job description, because it seems like you’re stalling,” Ivy teases.

I scowl at her, but she’s right. My guitar has never been so perfectly in tune.

“All right, so this one will go on the new album. It’s probably the first single, actually.”

She nods and pulls her legs onto her chair, wrapping her arms around her knees.

I blow out a steadying breath, glance up at her one more time, then I start to play. I repeat the first few measures of the song, waiting to settle into the rhythm, the feel of it. Once I do, I start to sing.

About noticing the gold in her eyes for the first time. About a relationship that shifted and changed without me realizing, turning into something so much better than what it was before.

When I finish the song, Ivy doesn’t say anything. She just looks at me, her body so still, my nerves ratchet back up, and I start rambling to fill the silence .

“So anyway, that’s the song. I didn’t add the key change until right at the end, and I wasn’t sure about it at first, but Leo said it was good, and I think it fits with the vibe, but if there’s anything you don’t like about it, you can absolutely still tell me…”

My words trail off when Ivy stands and moves around the small wicker coffee table, stopping in front of me. She lifts my guitar out of my arms and sets it in the chair she just vacated, gently leaning it against the seatback. Then she kneels on the couch beside me and lifts her hands to my face.

“The song is perfect,” she says. She presses a kiss to my lips. “The key change is perfect.” Another kiss. “I love every single thing about it. Every word.”

I lean up to capture her mouth one more time, feeling an impulsive need to keep her right here, right next to me forever. It’s illogical to crave something so much, but this, the taste of her, the feel of her skin—I could do this every day and still not feel like it’s enough.

“I don’t know what to do with this feeling,” I say in between kisses, my words brushing against her mouth. “I feel like I’m on fire. You consume me, Ivy. I can’t stop kicking myself for how long it took me to recognize—but I’m so glad I did. I’m so glad you didn’t give up on me.”

She pulls back, a smile in her eyes. “You’re doing a lot of talking right now,” she says, and I grin.

“I process verbally.”

She climbs onto my lap, her knees on either side of my thighs, and brushes her nose against mine. “Process this, then.”

Her kisses are slow, languid as she moves from my mouth across my jaw to the spot just below my ear. I am lost in how good she smells, in the way her hands are cradling my face, the way her lips feel against my skin.

But mostly I’m overwhelmed with a crystal-clear certainty that no emotion I’ve ever experienced compares to this. It feels good to be loved by my fans. To win awards. Receive the accolades.

But this is so much better—so much more. This is permanence. Acceptance. The belonging I didn’t know I needed until I found it.

Ivy deepens the kiss, her tongue brushing against mine, and I move my hands to her waist, my fingers slipping under the hem of her t-shirt until they’re pressed against her warm skin, just above the waist of her jeans.

She feels like silk, and I’m suddenly aware of where we are—out here on her parents’ porch—where any member of her family might find us at any moment.

I shift my hands out to her hips and give them a squeeze, breaking the kiss, but then a sound escapes the back of her throat that weakens my resolve, and I’m lost in her mouth again.

Finally, she pulls away, brown eyes sparkling as she grins. “Okay,” she whispers, humor in her tone. “You can talk again.”

I smile and shake my head, closing my eyes. “No words.”

She presses one more kiss against my lips, then climbs off my lap so she’s sitting beside me.

I tilt my head, following her movements with my eyes, then hold out my hand.

She threads her fingers through mine.

“Can I ask you a question?”

She nods. “Of course. Ask me anything.”

“Do you promise you’ll tell me the truth? ”

She wrinkles her nose. “You want me to promise before you ask me the question?”

I nod. “No secrets. No lies. That’s what I want with you.”

She takes a deep breath. “Okay. I promise.”

“When Vivica Rose asked you when you fell in love with me, did you tell her the truth?”

She closes her eyes, her face scrunching up. “Don’t make me answer that.”

“You promised,” I remind her. “Please, Ivy.”

She sighs and opens her eyes. “Fine. No. I didn’t tell her the truth.”

I frown. I did not expect her answer to be no. “You didn’t,” I say, a statement more than a question.

“No,” she says gently. “But only because I knew I was in love with you long before then.”

A sense of relief washes over me, a peace and purpose settling into my heart at the sound of her words. I knew I was in love with you.

“Do you remember that time you got the flu?” she asks. “At the beginning of your Heartbeats tour?”

“Vaguely?” I’ve been sick more than once on tour, so I don’t know exactly which time she’s referencing. But I know that all times have been terrible.

“We were on the bus, and you wouldn’t let me into your room because you didn’t want me to get sick, but you also didn’t want to be alone.”

“So I made a bed on the floor next to my door, and you sat on the other side,” I say, remembering that night, how much of a comfort it was to know she was close.

“That’s when I knew,” she says. “Up until then, you’d been this larger-than-life rockstar, but that night, you were just a guy.

We talked for hours, and you were either high on your meds or high from your fever because you were so incredibly honest. And vulnerable about stuff that made you seem so normal.

” She shrugs. “I was cramped and uncomfortable and desperate for sleep and I still didn’t want to be anywhere else.

I figured that could only mean one thing. ”

“I guess you didn’t want to tell that story to Vivica Rose.”

She leans over and gives me a quick kiss. “I do like having some things that only belong to us.”

I nod, agreeing with her, but I’m still struggling to wrap my head around her having feelings for so long without telling me. “That was still years ago, Ivy. Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

“Because when you hired me, I promised I wouldn’t fall in love with you. And I wanted to take my job seriously, and it just felt like such a clichéd thing to do. Falling in love with my rockstar boss.”

“It would not have been a cliché,” I argue. “I would have…” My words trail off because honestly, I’m not sure what I would have done.

“See?” she says gently, calling me out. “I might have been pining away all this time, but your feelings are relatively new, right? Had I said something sooner, we might not be here right now.”

“I like to think I would have wanted to try,” I say. “That it would have woken me up sooner.”

She shrugs. “Maybe. But maybe not. And for that reason, I’m okay with how things have played out now.” She nudges my leg with her knee, which she has pulled up under her. “No regrets. We’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

She’s right. I know she’s right. “So, speaking of your employment. I know you mentioned wanting a job with Voltage Records, and I’m still happy to write you the best recommendation in the world.

But I’ve also been thinking about the changes to your employment package that come with being my manager.

And before you make any final decisions, I was hoping you’d hear me out? ”

She grins. “Are you trying to woo me into not quitting?”

“Yes,” I say without hesitation. “Unabashedly.”

“Okay. Give it your best shot,” she says. “But I’m not making any promises.”

“So, the downside is you’re going to lose your salary,” I say. “The upside is that instead, you’ll get twenty percent of gross artist revenue.”

Her eyes widen. “Freddie, that’s…”

“I know,” I say. “You’re worth it.”

She clears her throat. “Okay, well…that’s definitely something to consider.”

“I was also thinking we’d have to do something about your sleeping arrangements on the bus. That little bunk—it’s too small for a manager.”

She lifts her eyebrows, a smile playing around her lips. “Is it now?”

“Definitely,” I say, keeping my tone serious. I lean over and kiss her, my lips hovering over hers when I say, “The bed in my room, however…”

She laughs and pushes against my chest. “You really are insufferable.”

I capture her hand, weaving our fingers together and pull it close to my chest, holding it there as I look at her.

“I will support you if you want to work somewhere else. But I also don’t want to tour without you.

I want you close. I want every opportunity to build on this. ” I motion between us. “On us.”

“I want that too,” she says, and my heart expands enough to fill the entire back porch. “Honestly, Freddie, half the reason I wanted to quit was so I could figure out how to fall out of love with you.”

“That sounds horrible,” I say, and she grins.

“Well now it does,” she says through a chuckle. “I don’t want to quit. But we have to hire you another assistant. My job is too much for one person.”

“So maybe we need to hire you an assistant,” I say.

“How about an assistant that does whatever we need?”

I squeeze her hand. “Good plan. We can start looking as soon as we’re back in Nashville.”

She holds my gaze. “I love you.”

I kiss her one more time. “I love you too.”

“When did you know?” she asks, her mouth still close to mine. “That you loved me?”

I think back over the last couple of weeks. It feels like so much more time has passed since I kissed Ivy outside of Margot’s beach house, but that probably has everything to do with the intensity of what I’m feeling.

Then again, those feelings have probably been building for years. I just didn’t recognize them until now.

“I don’t think I can pinpoint a single moment,” I say. “It feels more like I just…woke up. Like the feelings were already there, but the room was dark so I couldn’t see them. Then the light turned on and…there you were.”

“Cool, cool,” she says, her tone glib. “So instead of suffering in silence for four years, I could have just turned on the light. So good to know.”

I smirk. “Had you just kissed me, Conway, we could have started this so much sooner.”

“Don’t you dare pin this on me,” she says, laughter in her tone. “You’re the clueless one.”

I lift our clasped hands and tug them to my mouth, kissing the back of her palm. “True. And I’ll never stop trying to make it up to you.”

“Good,” she says. “Because the number of times I had to listen to you profess your fake love to me and ignore your marriage proposals when I remembered your dinner order was the worst kind of torture. You definitely owe me.”

I groan. “I’m really the worst, aren’t I? I asked you to marry me all the time.”

“You did,” she says. “And my heart broke a little every time.”

I lean over and cradle her face in my hands, pressing a long kiss to her lips. “I’m sorry I was such an idiot. I’m sorry it took me so long to catch up.”

I hold her gaze. I could almost ask her to marry me right now. That’s how sure I am of this— of her . But I settle for making a promise I know I’ll be able to keep.

“The next time I ask you,” I say, “I promise I’ll be asking for real.”