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"That's my line." I shake my head, something she feels more than sees, and her head picks up.
"No, you don't get it. I love you more. I love you more than my career. I love you more than songs. I used to say the bass of a good song was my heartbeat, but that's not true. My heartbeat is your heartbeat; you were gone for seven years, and I didn't feel it once. Not once, Stella."
Silence fills the room and she shifts over me, putting a hand on each side of my face and staring into my eyes. Long moments pass before finally, she whispers. "No one."
"What?" I ask, confused and a bit concerned.
"No one," she repeats.
I wrap an arm around her waist, holding her close and the other moving to brush her hair back.
I don't understand.
"No one has ever loved me more."
"Stella—" I try to say, but she cuts me off.
"No one has ever loved me more, Riggins. There's always been something, someone above me."
"Never again," he whispers in my hair. "I'll always love you more. You've got all my love and more forever."
EPILOGUE
FOREVER
I wake up in a cold bed.
I’m unhappy about it, which is new, considering I haven’t been unhappy since Maine, not really.
It’s been an interesting few months since Riggins and I went to Maine since we uncovered our history and put it back together. We’ve written under the stars, finishing the songs for the next Atlas Oaks album, and I’ve sent a few to my agent. It seems songs written by the duo of Riggins Greene and Stella Hart are a hot commodity, and more than one bidding war has occurred.
We finished the upstairs of our house and two weeks ago, we threw a much delayed house warming party. The whole band and friends the band and Riggs have made over the years came over. Some of which I knew, and it was great to see them again, others I’d never seen before.
Evie came too, though she’s in a strange position between our mother and me. I’ve stuck to my promise to cut her out completely, but my twin’s entire personality is so intertwined with getting reassurance and positive reinforcement from her.
In my gut I know one day, she’ll hurt Evie, but when that happens I’ll be here waiting.
I haven’t spoken to either of my parents, though somehow (I blame Reed, who has the biggest mouth on this planet), word of what she did to Riggins and me has gotten around, making her even more of a pariah than she was before.
All that to say, life has been good. Really fucking good. We still have our struggles, and we absolutely argue—that’s a given. But every night, I go to sleep with Riggs next to me, and every morning, I wake up with him in our bed, which is why I’m irritated with this morning's proceedings.
I shuffle out of the bedroom, squinting and grumpy. When I get to the kitchen, I blink a few times and see the clock reads 10 am.
How did I sleep so late?
Opening the cabinet above the coffee maker, I reach for the bread. Yawning as I untwist the bag, I place a piece into the toaster before reaching for my pills. On one of the bottles is a bright yellow post.
Had an early meeting.
Text your sister.
All my love, R
I roll my eyes at the note, grabbing the bottles and tapping out my pills before downing them with water before starting my coffee. When it’s brewing, I reach for my phone to text my husband.
Where are you?
He texts back quickly.
