“Sorry. I’m speechless.”
“Hmm. I’ve been told I have that effect on people. Take a look around,” he urged, biting his bottom lip as he fiddled with the remote control.
I put my hands on my hips and studied the living area, noting other decorative touches, like the roses on the table next to the wineglasses and art books. He’d staged this like a designer presenting a finished product to a client.
Being surrounded by familiar belongings and personal photos after weeks of upheaval felt like a warm hug.
It felt like…
“Welcome home, my love,” he whispered.
A moment later, the opening chords to “Your Song” by Elton John filled the room.
This was the song I’d played for him on my guitar the night we’d got caught in the rain and at the nightclub just before I begged him to give me a chance. The song I’d sung to him the night I asked him to marry me and again at our wedding. It was…ours.
I didn’t have as much time to play anymore and c’mon, it would have been weird to play the same damn song all the time. But we turned it up whenever it came on the radio and shared a glance or a touch…no words required.
I hadn’t heard it in a while. I hadn’t realized how much I needed to hear it right now. I spun to face him, my heart nearly bursting from my chest as I studied his toned physique in his snug blue tee, artfully ripped designer jeans, and the purple polish on his toes. So damn beautiful.
Aaron tossed the remote on the sofa and opened his arms. I swept him up and held him close as we danced cheek to cheek, swaying like branches in the early autumn breeze. Or maybe shuffling like an old married couple who fit each other like a glove. I buried my nose in his hair and breathed him in. And damn, I wanted to cry. He smelled like home.
Forget the house, forget the things we’d bought together, forget the job, the constant hustle, the desire to be more, do more.…It was background noise. None of that shit defined me. Everything I was and needed to be was right here.
I could see it in his eyes, the tilt of his head, the sweet ghost of a smile on his lips.
We danced till the last chord faded, jolting when a raucous AC/DC song blared a moment later. I played air guitar to make him laugh, then picked him up and twirled him in a circle, almost knocking over a candle.
He blew a few of them out before ushering me outside.
I paused to admire the new outdoor seating area Aaron proudly announced was purchased with his most recent paycheck. He posed Vanna White-style, circling his hands and talking a mile a minute about the designer with deep pockets who loved Aaron’s work on his most recent campaign.
I nodded, oohing and ahhing over the state of our yard with its refinished deck and hip furniture. I congratulated him on his success, listening with half an ear when he went into detail about a fringe jacket that our friend Seth wore for a photo shoot years ago that was somehow in style again. And I think he wanted to use it for a new spread. Maybe? I lost the train of conversation, but that happened sometimes. Aaron glided into hyper gear when he was excited about something.
And there was a lot to be excited about. I reminded myself of that when he urged me to kick back and relax on the new sofa while he went inside to rescue the wine bottle.
I tried, but I couldn’t sit still. I set my glass on the coffee table and wandered to the edge of the deck, looking up at the inky sky lit with stars.
The trees rustled in the light breeze and crickets chirped noisily. It was surprisingly warm out here for early autumn…and peaceful. I perched on the top step with my elbows on my knees, willing the peace to settle over me. My head was whirling.
We couldn’t move. I couldn’t ask that of Aaron. Kelleford made it sound like it was just a choice…stay or go. But nothing was ever that simple. Ignoring this kind of opportunity might be career suicide. And I wouldn’t know it until someone younger and less experienced climbed ahead of me, took the position in LA, then returned to DC and got the coveted marquee spot in the nation’s capital. I’d be fucking gutted.
But this was home. Right?
I mean…it was starting to feel like it. We had our friends and family nearby. The drive sucked, though. And maybe the neighbors did too.
Fuck.
My hand shook as I pushed it through my hair, releasing a ragged breath. I had to stay calm, be cool. I didn’t want Aaron to worry or—