Page 50 of True Blue

Still, though, their words landed behind my ribs and stuck there.

Am I being selfish?

Am I only concerned with my own dreams?

Am I making Teddy move when part of him wants to stay here?

Every time I bring that up to Teddy, spinning out worst-case scenarios about us breaking up, him resenting me, this move ruining everything, he kisses me softly and says the same words.

“Indie, you are the love of my life. There is no one else out there for me.”

And each day, I believe him more and more.

And his mother’s words cut me less and less.

“I love you, Teddy bear.”

“And I love you, honey,” Teddy says, squeezing me gently before Heath starts waving him over from the small karaoke stage. Teddy meets my eyes, grins, and clears his throat. “Showtime.”

“Knock ’em dead, Springsteen,” I tease.

He shakes his head. “You and the eighties.”

“It’s not my fault. Born in the U.S.A. is one of the greatest albums of all time.”

He smiles at me, kisses the top of my head, then jogs up to the front and takes the microphone.

Luke whistles loudly, catching everyone’s attention and directing them toward Teddy.

“Thank you for coming,” Teddy says into the microphone, looking unfairly attractive under the dim, warm lights.

“To celebrate the love of my life. Indie has brought me the greatest joy, not only from being my girlfriend—somehow, I managed to make that happen. Nana always says to never look a gift horse in the mouth. Indie is the greatest gift I’ve ever been given, and I’ll never take her for granted.”

A soft wave of awws moves through the room, making my cheeks burn.

“If you’re fortunate enough to know Indie, you know that she’s strong. She’s brilliant. She’s sexy as hell⁠—”

“Teddy!” I grit out, my face flaming as his friends hoot and holler, good-naturedly.

“But above all, she is the kindest woman in the world, and I cannot think of anyone more deserving of this opportunity. After all the hard work, you deserve this and more. Indie, my honey,” Teddy places his hand over his heart, and everyone in the room lets out touched murmurs.

“I love you more than all the stars in the sky, more than all the fish in the sea.”

Tears sting my eyes as everyone in this building eats up Teddy’s heartfelt speech. I smile at him, even though my cheeks are flaming under the attention.

“I love you,” I mouth.

His smile goes softer somehow.

“And this is for you, baby,” Teddy says, nodding to the side where Heath and Luke each grab a microphone and climb onto the tiny stage with him.

“Oh my God…” I mutter as the trilling opening of More Than A Woman by The Bee-Gees plays.

Teddy starts singing in a desperate attempt to mimic Barry Gibb’s falsetto, though his voice breaks on just about every syllable.

Ellie had told me, during a passionate debate about the seventies and her love of disco, how her husband would play this record and twirl her around the kitchen. He would croon it into her ear, eyes fixed on her like she was the only person on the planet.

The way she described it made it easy to picture—because it’s the same way her grandson looks at me.