IT WAS SO HARD not to spoil the surprise. It physically hurt not texting Mae back but seeing her this surprised, it’s all worth it. The second the door opens, my bag has dropped to the floor beside me, and she’s in my arms.
Lifting her off the ground, I hang onto her tightly. She’s buried her face into my shoulder, and she’s clinging to me like I might disappear if she loosens up. I pull myself back slightly so I can see her face. She doesn't give me the chance to look her over; instead, she greets me with an emboldened kiss before nuzzling my neck. “How did you get in here?” she murmurs against my skin. Her lips are soft there. I never want to put her down.
Dalton and I planned this earlier today, and he was almost giddy to be in on the surprise. Giddy is not a word I would ever think to use to describe him but that’s just how happy he was to do something for Mae. “Dalton let me in.”
“Those traitors were in on this?” she asks, pulling away. She slides from my grasp and lands on her feet in front of me.
“I hope you’re not mad,” I plead while handing her the flowers.
She shakes her head with a smile and says, “Not mad.” Letting her hair out of a disheveled bun, she glances into her penthouse and bites her lip. “I promise I’m not mad, but you didn’t give me a chance to clean up.”
“You’ve seen my house,” I say with a shrug.
“Yes, and it was clean!” We both laugh but by the end of it, she’s stepped aside, and I walk into her space for the first time. It’s cozy. I would have expected a penthouse in the heart of Nashville to be modern with bright surfaces, but it’s cozy here. There’s brown leather and shelves full of books alongside her awards.
“I watched the game,” she says, motioning to the TV that’s playing highlights from today’s games. She places the bouquet on the mantle of her fireplace and turns back to me with a certain nervousness. I can see her eyes darting between the pile of laundry on the lounger and the pile of paper that inevitably hosts her most recent lyrics.
“I know. Raleigh told me.” We’d been texting almost all day about Mae and how we could make this quick trip work.
“You played well.”
“I know.”
She narrows her eyes at me and crosses her arms. “Just how long have you been planning this little trip?”
Not wanting to give myself entirely away, I shrug and entertain myself with the strap of my bag. “Raleigh gave me her blessing this morning.”
“I’m sure that was a fun conversation,” she mumbles. It had been. Raleigh was over the moon about it. She’s mostly business whenever I see her, but today she was a pure romantic.
When I look up from my bag and get to truly take Mae in for the first time today, I remember the events of the night before. When she catches my eyes on her, something breaks and her eyes gloss over. “I told myself I was done crying over this,” she says, angrily swiping at the fresh tears and collapsing onto the ottoman next to her.
Not wanting to waste another minute, I cross the room and kneel down in front of her. She leans forward and buries her face into my chest. She heaves with a few sobs, which only makes me hold onto her tighter. I run my fingers through her curly hair, doing my best to let her know that I’m here for her.
I’d hoped my sudden appearance would be a comfort, but as I think more about it with her in my arms, I realize that she might not have had anyone to share this emotion with. She’s close with Raleigh and Dalton, yes, but she’s still their employer.
“I don’t know why I’m crying. I’ve been fine all day.” She pulls away and tries to dry her own eyes, but I push her shaky fingers to the side and run my thumbs across the wetness on her cheeks. Pulling myself up next to her, we sit with our legs touching; our hands are entwined.
“Because you went through something awful,” I say, swallowing. “Mae, when I was watching, I wanted to kill him. I don’t think I’ve ever felt such anger before.”
She tilts her face towards me, and I swear I see the hint of a smile. “You’ll have to get in line. Chris has dibs.”
Huffing with a laugh, I pull her back against me and lay a kiss on her head as we sway back and forth. She always manages to find a joke, and I love her for that.
“I missed you, girl,” I whisper into her hair.
“I missed you too, Wyatt. I’m glad you’re here.”
***
This evening with Mae has been pure bliss. We talked over coffee and tea in her kitchen for an hour, and then she finally showed me her music room. The place I’ve seen in social media posts, behind-the-scenes videos, and multiple late-night FaceTime calls is even more wonderful than I could imagine. Her singles and albums that went platinum are framed on the wall beside her piano, and various instruments are strewn about in an organized chaos.
Grabbing her guitar, we go back to the living room where we sit and continue our conversation. The words we share are about nothing important and somehow about everything important. We don’t bring up last night’s events or today’s game. Right now, we’re in each other’s company, and that’s what we talk about. Us.
When the conversation trails off, she leans her head back onto my lap and lays the guitar across her body. Every so often, I catch her strumming the guitar. “Have you been writing all this time?” I ask as she hums a new tune while running her fingers across the fretboard.
“Not the whole time,” she answers in a daze. Her fingers continue to switch between chords. “Just the last 10 minutes or so.”
“Want to play it for me?” Her gaze shifts, and her fingers still.
