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“Right here, baby.”
I couldn’t turn around, couldn’t look at him. “I’m so sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry about.” He continued to play, the notes smoothing the ends of my frayed nerves. He didn’t speak, but the callouses on his fingers communicated what I could not fail to understand, and the strings of his guitar untangled the convoluted reasoning that knotted my brain.
“Thank you for the pictures… I wanted to call you, but I was caught in a thinking trap.”
“I know. It’s okay. We’ll work out a system.”
“You’re not mad?”
“No,” he answered simply.
“Did I…” I unsuccessfully attempted to swallow the lump in my throat then pushed my voice past it. “Did I hurt your feelings?”
His fingers continued to dance over the strings. “Scared me a bit, but I already knew I wasn’t going anywhere. It was the kick in the pants I needed to be the man you need going forward. Remember I was a love virgin before you.”
I smiled. “Indeed.”
“It’s true. No other woman could fit the space God created in my soul for you. He made me to fall in love with you and you alone.”
“You might need to give up your nickname,” I teased gently.
He ignored my self-deprecating jab. “I learned a song for you.”
“Will you play it for me?” I asked softly.
“I have a couple to play for you,” he murmured. “I’m not good with words, but I can recognize my truth in someone else’s. Consider these my own heart’s strings.”
He played Nathan Wagner’sLoveas though it expressed his heart’s deepest desire. Because it did.
I rolled over so that I could see him, golden and beautiful, lighting up all my dark.
The second song,Worthwhile, also by Nathan Wagner, had me pressing my face into my pillow to stem the flow of my tears. When the music stopped, the bed dipped, he curled his long body around mine, and I could finally breathe.
Vulnerability. Exposure. The stripping away of walls and defenses. To be known and accepted. That’s the path to belonging. That’s the antidote to loneliness.
“Lucky?”
“Yeah, baby?”
“I might have overreacted.”
He chuckled softly. “Yeah, baby.”
“Can you give me a few days?”
“So long as you let me sleep beside you for the rest of them.”
He waited while I had a shower, which I sorely needed, helped me change my bed, and made me something to eat. The last thing he did before he left was hand me a picture in a frame.
“Willa gave me this for you,” he said softly. “It speaks volumes.”
I took it from his hand and gasped. It was us at Willa and Barrett’s wedding. The photographer had caught me with a soft smile on my face, my hands frozen in time as I knotted the tie around Lucky’s neck. Lucky’s eyes were focused on my face, lips parted, his expression a mix of wonder, worship, and not a small amount of confusion.
“I look like I’d just been hit by one of Cupid’s arrows.” He laughed. “You didn’t stand a chance, baby. I was made to love you.”
Chapter Forty- Nine – Pussy Intervention
