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“She loves it,” he corrects me.
“Toronto is home for us. But this is a good place to stay when we visit.”
“Is that something you want to try to do more?”
He’s digging, and I can understand why. A recently added portion of my previous tour starts next month, and Tinsley’s first fight follows my first show. We’ll be gone often. Our new place in Toronto is nice because we don’t have a roommate. But we come to Vancouver often. It’s like when we were kids. For a long time, I never came home. Never wanted to visit anyone besides Mom. Things are different now.
I want to come home more. This house will help with that.
“Yes. Tinsley wants that too.”
“Have you given any more thought to performing at WIT’s fair this summer?”
Cooper’s father asked me to last week. His arena always puts on a fair in the summer, but he’s never wanted me to perform before. I told him I’d think about it.
“My music isn’t for kids,” I mutter.
He chuckles. “Fair enough. Just think about it and let him know. We’d love to have you do it anyway. Skip the curse words, and they’d be none the wiser.”
The calm in his voice—the lack of expectation or judgment regardless of my decision—has me agreeing before I can stop myself. His responding grin hits me hard. I leave him in the kitchen directly after, my skin itching.
Tinsley finds me in the spare bedroom a minute later. She wraps her arms around me from behind. Her touch soothes my restlessness.
“Was that a good or bad conversation with your dad?”
I cover her hands with mine as they splay over my pecs. “Good. It overwhelmed me.”
“It’s okay to get overwhelmed. The two of you are still getting to know each other again. I’d say that’s normal. Can I help?”
I lift our hands from my chest, hovering them over my lips. Taking in the view of our backyard, I remember the last time we were here. The way the moonlight illuminated her figure as we stood in front of this window. How easily it was for her to tame the monster inside of me that fought for control.
Our story isn’t a fairy tale, but it’s ours. I’m not a Prince Charming, and she’s not a damsel in distress. We’re above that. A king and queen of our own making.
“You’ve already helped me, Golden Girl. I love you.”
She presses her cheek to my back and whispers, “And I love you, Mr. Dark and Twisty.”
THE END
