Page 45 of Waiting for Acceptance (Nashville Nights #5)

LAUREN

Vincent Fitzgerald already has more of my heart than I’ve ever been able to give another person, and I don’t know what to make of that.

Last night was one of the most incredible nights of my life.

From the look on his face when he walked through the door, to the late-night talking over a silly little made-up card game, I don’t think I’ve smiled that much with a man… well, ever.

When I roll over and reach my hand out where his body should be, I feel that the bed next to me is empty, and a familiar feeling overwhelms me.

I sit up, looking around the room, squinting when the sunlight filtering through his bedroom window shines right in my eyes.

I get up and slip on the T-shirt I was wearing last night, then head to the bathroom before going to look for him.

I hear the faint sound of a piano playing coming from the living room and when I walk in, I see a shirtless Fitz sitting at the old piano in the corner of the room, his hair a mess and a cup of coffee not far from his reach.

I tiptoe further into the room, trying to place the familiar tune, smiling when I figure it out.

When I find where he’s at in the song, I slide onto the bench next to him and begin to sing along to “Yellow” by Coldplay.

The look of shock and amusement on his face when he looks at me causes my cheeks to redden.

I watch his hands move over the keys and continue to sing until the song comes to an end.

I can’t help but bite the inside of my lip nervously as he watches me.

“Morning, Trouble.”

“Good morning.” He cups my cheek and kisses me, then turns around, straddling the piano bench to face me, so I mirror his movements.

“Where did you learn to sing like that?” The smirk on his face makes me feel like a middle schooler with their first crush—completely awestruck.

I shrug, playing a few keys with my right hand, catching another shocked look from him. “My parents had me in music lessons at six and piano at seven, up until I was a senior in high school.”

“Why’d you stop? Did you not enjoy it?”

“I don’t really know,” I answer honestly. “I think I got to a point where I just went against most things my parents wanted for me, or from me, and even if it was something I enjoyed, I didn’t want to give them the satisfaction.”

“I can understand that,” he mumbles and I look up at him again.

“Yeah… I thought you might.” I smile softly at him, prompting him to grab ahold of my legs, pulling me closer to him. My legs drape over his hips, as he presses his forehead to mine.

“Have I told you just how much I loved spending my birthday with you?”

“Really?” I whisper, his hands cupping either side of my face.

“Really.” His soft lips meet mine again, but this kiss is different than any we’ve shared before.

It’s slow and full of purpose. With every swipe of his tongue, my body yearns for more of this—more of him.

My hands wrap around his neck, my thumbs moving lazily as he pulls my body closer to his, until there’s no space left between us.

Ginny is sure not to let our moment last for too long, jumping up on the piano scaring the shit out of not only herself but me as well. I jump back and gasp, just as she meows and takes off into the other room.

“Jesus Christ,” Fitz says, also a bit startled by the noise. I can’t help but burst into laughter over it. “She’s a little menace.” He points to his room and my mouth pops open.

“She is not! She’s an angel.”

“An angel that clearly had some kind of concentrated catnip at about 3 AM. Did you not hear her in here? I fully expected it to look like I had been robbed when we woke up this morning.” I laugh again, knowing that he’s right but having no intention of telling him so.

“That’s when she likes to exercise.”

“She needs a new routine then. Or a kitty Bowflex or something. Shit.” I roll my eyes and look over to see his gifts from last night are out and opened on the coffee table.

“How long have you been up?” I ask, moving to pick up the Frank Sinatra vinyl.

“Not too long, just wanted to get up before you to make some coffee.” He shrugs, grabbing his mug from the piano and taking a sip as he stands next to me.

“Do you really like your gifts? You won’t hurt my feelings if you say no. I know this is all…new.” Ok, I would be a little hurt if he said he didn’t like the Sinatra vinyl, I actually thought really hard about that one.

“I love them. Seriously. You know I’d tell you if I didn’t.

” I look up and see the old version of Fitz I got so used to back in Nashville and my eyes roll again.

He sets his coffee mug back down and pulls the vinyl out of my hand, putting it on the record player before he comes back with his hand outstretched.

“Dance with me, Trouble.” I give him a sassy look, then slowly place my hand in his.

I let out a gasp, followed by a giggle when he pulls me quickly into his arms. Holding one of my hands out to the side, his other rests on my lower back.

He spins me around his living room, singing in a not-so-terrible voice, “Fly Me To The Moon” by Frank Sinatra.

He boops my nose and winks at me, singing some of the lyrics with a surprisingly smooth voice.

Making it hard to focus on anything other than the way he so confidently leads me around the room.

My cheeks are practically cramping from smiling so hard when the song comes to an end and he dips me.

“Not bad. Maybe I should have let you take me dancing that night after all.” I smirk at him and he raises a brow at me.

“We may not have made it to where we are now, had we only gone dancing, though.”

I frown, confused. “What do you mean?”

“Now I can dance with you in the living room and the bedroom.” He bends down, throwing me over his shoulder. When my shirt slides up, it reveals that I have nothing underneath it.

He slaps my ass and then— “Ow!” I squeal when he bites my ass.

“Sorry, Sweetheart, but you look absolutely ravishable.”

“It’s ravishing,” I correct him, just before I get thrown onto the bed.

He smirks at me. “Not this time, baby.”

“Shake a leg, baby. So much New York to see, so little time,” Fitz calls from the door as I finish tying my shoes.

“Don’t rush me! It stresses me out.”

“Well, I have plans to de-stress you later, but only if we make it out of the apartment on time.” My stomach flutters and I stand, throwing my fanny pack over my shoulder.

“Ok, boss. I’m ready to go.”

He looks me up and down and laughs. “You look like a tourist.”

I glare at him. “Then allow me to look for a new tour guide.” I walk past him, placing my hand on the doorknob and turning it before he slams his hand on the door to keep it shut.

“Don’t be a brat,” he warns.

I look up and challenge him. “Or what?”

“I’ll keep you locked up here all day.”

I slide my hand up his T-shirt, running my fingertips along his abs before teasing the waistband of his boxers.

“Mm. Don’t tempt me with a good time.” His hand slides off the door, heading straight for my neck, when I pull it open.

“Is Rockefeller Center on the list? I’ve been dying to see it in person. ”

He growls in response. “You drive me fucking crazy, you know that?” I wink and blow him a kiss as he follows me out the door.

When Fitz said he had a whole day planned for us, I had no idea just how well he had planned it.

We took more photos than I care to admit in Times Square.

He surprised me with a picnic lunch in Central Park.

We even went to the MET and the Statue of Liberty, before ending our day of touring at Rockefeller Center.

“Huh.” I stand back and look at the busy streets, hearing Fitz laugh from beside me.

“It’s a lot more magical when the tree is lit for Christmas.”

I turn to face him, crossing my arms over my chest. “Yeah, I think that’s the image I had in mind when wanting to come here.”

“Then I’ll have to bring you back for Christmas. Start shining your skates now.” He wraps his arm around my shoulders, planting a kiss on the tip of my nose. “Okay. You see enough of New York yet?” he asks, and I exhale so hard I feel my whole body sag.

“Yes. I am exhausted.” The smile on his face makes me curious.

“Good. We have a couples massage in forty minutes. Let’s grab a coffee on the way.”

Oh my god, this is the best day.

Our flight back to Nashville is delayed, and even though I am exhausted from this weekend with Fitz—in all the best ways—I don’t mind sitting in the airport with him.

We got stuck sitting on the floor since every seat in our boarding section is full, so we’re propped up with Fitz’s back to the window and mine against his chest. His arms hang lazily over me while I scroll through the photos I took this weekend.

The one of us from his dad’s party makes us look so high class, which feels absolutely insane.

Then I select the picture of his apartment set up with everything I got him for his birthday, the video of me singing “ Happy Birthday ” to him, a photo of Ginny sleeping on his back—before her midnight aerobics started—one from Times Square, and another of my favorites from our picnic in Central Park.

I click out of the app and set my phone up against my carry-on with the camera on a timer, then I look up at him and before I can say anything, he leans down and kisses my nose, making me smile.

I don’t know what to make of him. Most guys hate taking pictures or have something to say about you wanting to capture every single moment, but Fitz never has…

I wonder if he’s just programmed that way from having to be in photos for business so often.

I grab the phone and click on the picture, smiling so hard I feel my cheeks getting warmer.

“That’s a good one.” I agree and click back over and finish making my post, captioning it; Surprising the birthday boy in New York, 10/10 recommend. Nashville here we come.

“You are insanely good at marketing, you know that?” I shrink at the simple reminder that that is exactly what this is. Marketing a relationship for better business. “Hey, look at me.” I turn around and see Fitz with his phone out.

“What are you doing?” I frown.

“For someone who took pictures all weekend, I’m surprised you have to ask.” I glare at him and hear his camera click, causing my eyes to widen.

“Fitz! I wasn’t ready.” He keeps clicking away, earning more and more frustrated looks from me.

“Oh my god, you look so pissed.” He laughs, causing me to giggle—against my will.

“I am!” I go to grab his phone and he stops me by linking our fingers.

“I got you now, Trouble. Whatcha gonna do?” I lean forward and lick his camera lens and his mouth pops open. “Ok, now you’re just being a brat.” He wipes the lens off on his hoodie, still not letting go of my hand.

“You bring out the brat in me, Fitz. Your suffering is self-inflicted.”

“Well, as long as you’re my brat, I can handle it.” He smiles, pulling me back to him, and I suddenly forget why I was even mad. He kisses the top of my head, moving his lips so I can hear him. “Are you?”

I look back at him. “Am I what?”

“Mine.”

“You tell me.” His hand wraps around my neck, and he kisses me like there’s no one else in the airport but us. My body practically melts into his, loving the way he claims me with his lips.

“Yeah, Trouble. You’re mine.”

“Fuckin’ better be,” I mumble under my breath. Though our close proximity doesn’t allow me the distance needed to keep him from hearing.

“Don’t worry, Sweetheart. I’ll prove to you, again , just how mine you are as soon as I get you home.”

“Why wait?” I glance over to the bathrooms right across from where our terminal is and I see the spark in his eyes as soon as his jaw tightens.

“Get up. Now.” I shiver with anticipation as he lifts me to my feet. He grabs our bags, including Ginny in her cat carrier, in one hand and mine with his other, walking with purpose toward the family restroom.

Who the hell am I? And what the hell am I doing?!