Page 108 of Songs for Libby

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Sean said he had work to do and went back to his house for the afternoon. He came back for dinner, carrying a folder, which he set aside and ignored until dinner was finished and cleaned up. Then he picked it up and said, “Can we talk?”

“Of course,” I said with a furrow in my brow and followed him to the living room.

When I came to sit down beside him on the couch, he looked nervous, like he was afraid of my reaction. Which, of course, made me wary of what he was going to say.

He dove right in.

“I’ve found three houses in the area with adequate security. I’d like you to choose one.”

I scrunched my eyes at him, suspicious. “Why am I picking your house?”

“It’s not my house. It will be your house, in which I’m hoping you’ll be kind enough to let me use a guest room.”

I pulled my chin back then glanced down at the papers he’d spread out on the table. I thumbed through them.

“These are multi-million-dollar houses.”

“That’s what you pay for a secure house.”

“Why are you buying me a house?”

“So I can sleep at night knowing you’re safe.”

Okay, so that was…really sweet. And yes, the reporters had been too aggressive, and remembering the stalker fan girl still made me nervous, and I would love to feel like I wasn’t being watched, but… “What if we don’t work out?” I asked in a whisper, my eyes still on the papers.

“Then I’ll sell it or rent it out, and you can move back here. But we are going to work out.”

I smiled, loving the conviction in his voice. Loving that he was willing to lay out the practical solutions even though he didn’t think we’d need them. I ran my fingers over one of the photos printed on the semi-glossy paper, giving myself time to think. “You really think this is necessary?”

He let out a heavy sigh. “Libby…”

I looked up at him, worried by his tone.

“My guys have noticed a couple of cars parked on the street lately that shouldn’t be there.”

My heart rate jumped.

“They can’t be sure, but we think there are at least a handful of reporters who know where I live.”

I closed my eyes. “I suppose that was inevitable.”

His face was sad and apologetic when I looked back at him. “Sorry,” he said simply.

I chewed on my lip, not ready to give in yet even though I knew I would. “I want to keep working.”

He put his hands up, indicating I’d get no fight from him. “You can do whatever you want with work. And hopefully you and I will become old news soon enough. But I’ve got another concert coming up in a couple weeks, and if you’re here, alone, in this house, with all the media crawling around, I will go crazy.”

I looked up at him, surprised. “You scheduled another concert?”

He looked suddenly unsure. “It’s actually been scheduled for a long time, and Randy will kill me if I miss it, and the label might drop me, but I will get out of it if you think—”

“No. It’s good.” I smiled, a breath of relief escaping me. “I’m glad things are moving forward.”

“It’s sooner than I would prefer, but I’m glad it will be done before the baby comes.”

I barely kept myself from grinning outright. He so naturally took on the role of protector and advocate for me and my baby, like he didn’t even have to think about it before taking on a child that wasn’t his.