Page 212 of Love Felt Like This

“I love you.” His grip tightens on my waist as he bends at the knees to meet me at eye level. He repeats in a plea, “I love you, and I said we shouldn’t do this, but I was so wrong. I love you.” And with a shaking breath he repeats again, “I love you.”

It’s one thing to assume, but to hear Griffin say the words…I’m floating again, drifting into a different world. The stage, the lights, the audience…they cease to exist.

It’s just him. It’s his brown eyes, like the woods around Elk Grove. His long hair, swaying like a curtain between us and the world. It’s his tears, streaking beside his nose and down to his lip. I trace my thumbs over his cheeks to clear them away.

“It’s okay,” I whisper. “It’s all okay.”

He heaves in a breath.

“It’s okay,” I repeat.

“I can’t stop it,” he murmurs. “It doesn’t matter how far I travel or how busy we both get, my soul can’t stand not being near yours. It aches for you at night and searches for you during the day. It’s deeply, desperately, hopelessly in love with you, and I can’t—I can’t—stop it. And God, I don’t want to, B. I need to watch you create. I need to drink coffee with you every morning, midmorning, afternoon, and evening. I need sleepless nights with you beside me and my girl. I need to hear your laugh, your voice, and all the others you imagine along the way. I need you, Beverly. I need you.”

I rise to the tips of my toes, letting my soul meet his, and the taut string from the past three months finally loosens, as if satisfied it’s found its missing half. I clutch his face and press my forehead against his.

“I’m yours, Griffin,” I say. “I love you.”

He drags me closer until we’re chest to chest, until our lips ghost over each other, then meet. We’re kissing, and the sighs echo through me, sinking into my chest as hands capture hair, cheeks, jaws. I know Griffin Patrick Harvey. I know how his heart beats, and I know that it beats for me, just like mine does for him.

He pulls away, and a low sob chokes out of him.

“Beverly…”

“Griffin,” I tease back.

He lets out a low, bubbling laugh. He dips his palm into my hair, cupping the nape of my neck.

The crowd outside the stage comes back into focus. White noise erupting into cheers. His arm slides up my spine, and the other winds down to my lower back. It feels like I’m dreaming, but I know even dreams aren’t this good. Griffin pulls me into an embrace.

No, I’m awake. I’m here. I’m absolutely alive with Griffin.

He darts his eyes toward the crowd, then back to me.

“B…I’m dragging you into this world we can’t escape from. We’ll always be watched. We’ll always be criticized. We’ll always spend too many days apart. And I’ll always want more. But damn it, as long as I’m coming home to you…”

I smile. “Griffin, you are always coming home to me.” His shaking lips quiver at the edges. He pulls me into a kiss, and we stand onstage together, under the spotlight, with tears spilling from his cheeks to mine. Breathy exhales from me to him.

I don’t care what will come tomorrow or who will recognize me or where that will leave us. I don’t care what our schedules will look like or how often we’ll be apart. I don’t care, because right now, I’m here. Right where I belong.

Post: Pictures from the Los Angeles concert are posted to Griffin Harvey’s official social media page. Griffin Harvey and Beverly Lark embrace onstage, illuminated in blue and yellow stage lights. The caption reads “Love Felt Like This.”

Comments

[disabled]

Chapter Forty-Five

And the Winner Is…

Griffin

Seven months later

“Griffin! Griffin! An interview!”

I clutch Beverly’s hand and pull Ava up onto my hip as we pace across the red carpet to a roped-off area with reporters. A woman beaming from ear to ear looks nice enough, so I gravitate toward her.

“Thank you so, so much. Okay.” She twists with a flourish toward a camera behind her. “We are here with Griffin Harvey, five-time Grammy Award winner, who is nominated yet again tonight.” She twirls back to us. “How does that feel?”