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“I don’t need material things,” I interrupted. “Truly. My family doesn’t even give me stuff unless it’s something sentimental or a gag gift. Accordingly, everything I got you has special meaning for us. I also got Greatty a case of the 2019 Isosceles, and I absolutely need to see her face when she sees it.” It was her favorite red wine and at approximately seventy bucks a bottle, I knew they only bought it on special occasions.
“Oh, Kingston.” She rose up to kiss me and our mouths moved together easily.
I loved kissing her and didn’t know how I was going to go three days without doing it.
I really hated that she wasn’t coming to Florida with me.
“You’re a thousand percent sure you don’t want to come?” I asked, even though I knew the answer.
“I’m sure. I’ll see you on the twenty-seventh. If you want, I can be waiting for you.”
“Naked?”
“On the piano.”
“Oh, baby, that will be the best belated Christmas present ever.”
“But you can get that anytime,” she said, wrinkling her nose.
“There’s no reason why I can’t get my favorite thing in the world every day of the year.”
32
Devyn
Kingston spoiled the hell out of us for Christmas.
Greatty squealed with delight when she opened the case of wine, and then she sat with her feet tucked under her watching me open mine. The pair of Louboutins were my favorite and I immediately slipped them on. I would never have bought myself a pair of thousand-dollar shoes, but after our conversation about me wearing heels, obviously Kingston was showing me just how much he paid attention to things that were important to me.
Like the incredible red-bottomed shoes by Charles Louboutin.
Classic black pumps with a skinny heel and a little strap around the ankle.
They were going to be my favorite item of clothing and I planned to be wearing nothing but those damn shoes when he got home.
There were other things too, like a Betsey Johnson handbag shaped like a hot pink corset, a pair of glittery, turquoise Doc Martens, and the most amazing one-of-a-kind dress by Alexa Humboldt, made specifically to be worn on stage when I performed. It was a rich blood-red color, with black trim and ties. It laced up the front and back, showing off cleavage, and the kerchief style bottom would show off my legs when I moved during a show. There were no words to describe how much I loved it.
“There’s one more package,” Kingston said after I’d run to put it on and model it for him since he’d called using FaceTime.
“Kingston, this is too much,” I said.
“Open it.” He looked as gorgeous as ever in a plain gray T-shirt, his hair sticking up a little as he lounged outside by his brother’s pool.
The last package was more like a large manilla envelope, and I slowly pulled out the contents. It seemed to be a contract of some kind and I frowned as I read it.
It mentioned “Symphony of the Broken,” with wording that had to do with writing credits and royalties and a bunch of things I didn’t completely understand.
But I wasn’t stupid.
He’d done something amazing for me.
He was giving me the sole writing credit for the song.
So, if Onyx Knight wanted to perform it, they would have to buy it from me.
And I’d make royalties for writing that song for the rest of my life.
I blinked away tears and took a deep breath.
