And then…
“You know, while I’m gone,” he says, his voice hesitant, halting, “I’d understand if you and … if you and Connor?—”
I recoil.
I literally push back in shock.
“What—are you—are you telling me to date him? Are you breaking up with me?”
“NO!” He rakes a hand through his hair. “But I’m trying to stop focusing on what I want!” He exhales sharply. “Like you said, it’s fake. If you need to be seen with him a few times, if you need to—to kiss him,” he says, his voice catching like it’s choking him, “I can tolerate it. If you feel like you need to fake date him, be seen with him for your career, I can handle it.”
A sob shakes my chest, but there are no tears.
It’s all exhaustion and emotion.
“Do you think I need to?”
“NO! Not even a little, but…” He lets out a rough breath. “I gotta be honest, I’m trying hard not to be so selfish, trying to put you first, and I think I’m doing a trash job.”
I laugh, breathless and stunned.
“You are,” I say. “Telling me it’s okay if I fake date a guy who wants to use me for PR is a trash job. It’s okay to be a little selfish.”
He sighs, his breath stirring the tiny hairs on my neck.
“Good,” he says with an exhale. “Because making you happy is the most selfish thing I’ve ever done.”
He kisses my neck, and I whisper, “Dang. That’s a good line.”
He snorts before kissing me again.
“Just promise me one thing, Queenie.”
“Mmm?”
“Open up to your band while I’m gone. Or Alicia. Someone. You’re too warm to go cold while I’m back home.”
My eyes refuse to open, but I nod, because even as tired as I am, I know he’s right.
“Okay.”
And when he picks me up and carries me into my room, the last thing I remember is his lips pressing to my temple and his whisper:
“I love you.”
And because I’m too tired to process or filter or second guess a single word, I mumble, “I love you, too.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
PATTY
It’s finally here.
The concert in Memphis.
I’ve been waiting for this day for three months.
Plus a decade, give or take.
