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I don’t think anybody has ever done that for her, and I’d like to be the first. For that and a lot of other things.

The seriousness of what I’m starting to feel isn’t lost on me as we head into the hotel. I’ve stayed in The Hardin a few times before. Those visits were usually me hiding in the back suite for VIPs, so it was quiet while I worked. Everywhere I’ve been was centered around my work, my shows, meetings. This is the first time, for real, that I’ve stayed at The Hardin.

The clerk behind the counter smiles as we approach.

“Good evening, Mr. Taylor,” she says. “We’ve got you all checked in. The valet is bringing up your bags now. Did you need a dinner reservation?”

“I’d love one, thank you,” I say. “But make it late. We’re going dancing first.”

Sabrina is wide-eyed and waiting behind me, her purse clutched in her hands. My dick isn’t behaving all that well in my pants, but I’m going to keep it down until later. This isn’t about me; it’s all about her tonight. I thank the clerk again and put my hand on Sabrina’s waist, ushering her to the left and all the way to the end of the hall. It’s tall, with smooth white walls and a black floor and ceiling. Along the right side runs a little fountain encased in glass.

She’s quiet until we get to the room, and I shut the door. Her eyes skim over the clean, minimalistic space, the fully stocked bar, the wine on the bedside table.

“Are you trying to impress me?” she asks, smiling.

I set the bags down and go to her, brushing her hair back. “I don’t know. Is it working?”

“Maybe,” she whispers, coming close.

I kiss her mouth. “You’ve been perfect this whole time. Thanks for…giving me what I needed.”

“Of course.”

Her voice is barely a breath. The tension between us ripples—not sexual, something far deeper and more delicate.

“Where are we going tonight?” she asks.

I brush her hair back, holding her face. “There’s a bar with dancing. It’s like upscale honky-tonk—luxury yeehaw, if you will. I’d love to take you there for your first Tennessee experience.”

A crease appears between her brows. “Wouldn’t it make sense to wait for Nashville?”

I shake my head. “Nashville means work. Once we get there, I won’t be able to just go out. Memphis is a safer bet for me. Is that alright?”

Her eyes soften. “Of course. I get it.”

“I promise I will give you the whole experience.”

She pulls back, trying to hide her smile as she heads to the bathroom. I loiter in the hall, unable to tear my eyes away. Her smile hovers in the door, and then she slams it shut, and I think I hear her soft laughter. The shower comes on. I take a breath and hold it, leaning my head back to exhale. Having her with me makes everything good. And clear. And normal.

In the silence, I let that sink through my veins.

In the last few days, she became a sanctuary.

Distantly, I can hear her singing off key in the shower. It breaks me from how heavy my thoughts are. My phone goes off, and it’s the DoorDash shopper arriving with our bags. I grab my door key and head downstairs, retrieving the bags. On the bed, I lay everything out, including the condoms and lube. When she comes out, wrapped in fluffy white towels, she sees them and gives me a look.

Not a displeased one.

“Gonna go shower,” I tell her, touching her chin as I go by.

I hurry through my own shower—not because we’re running late, but because I want to see her get dressed. When I come out, towel around my waist, she’s on the edge of the bed, putting lotion on. Except…she’s in a little strappy lingerie set. My entire body and mind shut down and do a full reboot that takes a couple seconds.

“Goddamn,” I say hoarsely.

She glances up. “You weren’t supposed to see yet.”

“Sorry, I was just….”

She stands, and all the blood leaves my head. I want to remember this forever so I can look back on it in five decades. Maybe, there’s a chance we end up together. If that happens… God, if that happens, the slim chance it does, I want to hold this sight in my head forever. When we were both young and dumb and dying over how much we want each other.