Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 85135 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85135 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
“Oh,” he says. “You were coming here.”
“To see you,” I say.
“I’m in love with you,” he says matter-of-factly. “That’s why I called.”
My heart lifts and twirls in my chest like a ballerina on pointe shoes.
“I’m in love with you too,” I reply, trying to mimic his tone, but desperate to be touching him. Desperate for him to hold me.
He nods like I’m not telling him anything he doesn’t already know. “But we have some stuff to figure out. Some things to say.”
“Okay,” I say, desperate to hear every word he has to say.
“First thing is, I’m sorry. For running. I shouldn’t have done that. I think I’ve been running from things a lot, rushing from place to place, searching for…you.”
“Me?” I ask.
“I don’t want to do that anymore. I want us to run at life together.”
I exhale. Is it possible that this beautiful, caring, joyful man in front of me wants to be better? For me?
“Okay,” I say. “What else?”
“I’ve spent my life thinking I need to fill my days with all sorts of…things and experiences. Work. Sports. Doing. I’ve realized what I really want—what I need—is to be by your side. Since the accident, I’ve been so grateful to have survived that I’ve never wanted to take a moment for granted. But really, that’s not what’s important. I don’t ever want to take you for granted. I want to be next to you, side by side, and I don’t care if that means we’re sitting in front of the TV or we’re making apple pie together or I’m standing in the wings of Wembley Stadium, watching you perform.”
My heart lifts in my chest, like it’s grown wings and is desperate to fly over to Beau.
“I want that too,” I say.
“And if you want to live in New York, that’s where we’ll live.”
I shake my head. “I don’t. I want to be by your side too, remember. And you belong here. With your family. In London. This is your home. New York is just somewhere I lived.”
He sucks in a breath. “Okay. I like that. And when you’re touring, I can take some time out of work and—”
“I don’t want to tour.”
“I thought that’s what you were doing next year?”
“The plan’s changed. I have a few dates I’ll honor, but nothing that will keep me on the road for very long.”
“What happened?” he asks.
“Being with you showed me that I haven’t been making choices based on what will make me happy. I’ve been trying to please all these people in my life—mainly Matt. But Tommy and Felicity and the machinery around Vivian Cross…when I took a step back, I realized that for years before you, and for the weeks we’ve been apart, I haven’t been happy. So I made some changes, particularly to the course of my career.”
“How do you feel about that?” he asks.
“Happier.”
He grins and it’s infectious. “How’s Tommy about that?”
“He’s adjusting. It’ll be tough for him, but he cares about me and I know he’ll support me. It’s not like I’m quitting writing or recording. I’m just Mariah Carey-ing the situation.”
“Mariah what now?” he asks.
I laugh. “Never mind. I’m just not going to do much touring. It means I’ll be poor.”
“Well that’s okay,” Beau says. “I have plenty of money.”
I laugh. He’s always tried to convince me he’s wealthy. Maybe he is. I just don’t care. “And what about you? Are you going to get a permanent job as a doctor somewhere?”
He stands and rounds his desk, then pulls me up and into his arms. It feels so good to be near him like this. He smells so good, better than any man should, like the air after a thunderstorm. I snake my arms around his waist and look up at him.
“I was ready to ditch it all and come and live with you in New York. Now I have to rethink. Starting the business in London will be easier. I know more people here.” He smiles and presses a kiss on my forehead. “There’s something else,” he says.
My eyes widen. What else is there? We figured out where we’ll live and how we’ll approach our careers from now on.
“I want to marry you,” he says.
An embarrassed smile unfurls on my face. “You do?”
“Yeah, like as soon as possible. I don’t want some fake engagement. I don’t want to be your warm-up guy. I want to get to the main event as soon as possible. I want the real thing.”
“Okay,” I reply, nodding.
“I know I haven’t hired out Wembley Stadium and proposed in front of the world.”
“That’s for sure,” I say, laughing. “But I don’t need that.”
“I want it to be for us. Not the world.”
“I want a nice wedding though,” I say. “Doesn’t have to be big, but I want my siblings and my parents and Tommy and Robbie and Felicity and Betty. And I want all your family there too.”