It’d been a fun night. They’d ridden both the ferris wheel and the swings. Underneath the quiet hum of the old fashioned light bulb marquee for the Palmer hotel, Avery leaned over and impulsively hugged the much smaller girl. “Thanks, Sam. I know you probably would have preferred to stay in with JR, but I really needed a distraction. It feels like forever since I’ve laughed so hard.”
“You’re welcome, but I wanted to go, too.” Sam smiled and squeezed Avery back. “I’d better head up though. I’ll see you in the morning,” she said over her shoulder as she entered the glass doors ahead of Avery. “New York City, girl! Your old stomping ground.”
Hard to believe, Avery thought to herself. Madison Square Garden.
She stepped off the elevator on the reserved floor, surprised that it was so empty. She headed to her room but slowed when she heard music. Someone was playing the piano in the room next to hers. The notes were turbulent and beautiful and vaguely familiar. She drifted into the open door without even thinking about it.
Marcus.
She closed her eyes and leaned against the wall of the suite, the sound saturating her senses. In the notes that he played, she heard crashing thunder, saw flashes of lightning, and felt the rain soaking her face in a torrential downpour. She knew why it sounded so familiar. It was a piece she’d heard him working on during sound checks since Seattle. The melody was so poignant and hopeful that her eyes flooded with tears.
When the last note faded out, she absently wiped her cheeks and opened her eyes.
Marcus was standing right in front of her, hands in his back pockets. “Happy Birthday, Avery,” he said solemnly.
Holy Crap. She’d completely lost track of the calendar with all that had been happening.
“The doorman told me you were on your way up,” he confessed. “I’ve been working on the song since before we left on tour. I’d hoped you’d put lyrics to it someday, but then…” He trailed off, glancing away. His blue eyes were glassy when they focused back on her. “I thought I’d call it ‘Shelter.’”
“It’s beautiful,” she whispered. “I don’t know what to say. It’s the most incredible gift anyone’s ever given me.” She stepped forward and stood on tiptoes to kiss his stubbled cheek. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” His eyes were dark and intense as he stared into hers.
She knew she should extract herself from the situation. But she didn’t want to. She wasn’t going to fight it anymore. She wanted to press her body against his. Wanted to feel his lips on hers. She wanted…him.
Marcus cleared his throat.
“Huh?” she blurted, startled from her thoughts.
“I have one more gift for you.”
“The song was more than enough,” she protested, letting him take her hand.
“It’s just a little thing,” he told her, wrapping his fingers more tightly around hers, leading her further into the suite. “I just asked and well, he wouldn’t let me pay for it.”
“Holy shit!” Her eyes widened as her gaze came to rest on the red, black, and white EVH Frankenstein that was propped up on a stand with a red bow laid loosely over it. She set the bow aside and picked it up, running a finger over the signature. “It’s even signed by him,” she whispered. She turned back to Marcus, clutching the guitar to her chest, tears brimming in her eyes. “Marcus Thomas Anthony,” she whispered. “You were right. You don’t fight fair.”
“Not where you’re concerned, Ace.” He sauntered closer, eyes locked on hers. “I was an effing idiot. Let go of the best thing that’s ever happened to me. A woman like you… kind, generous, and genuine, well, there aren’t many of those around. That thing you did for the guy during the photo shoot, the way you always check on Ray’s mom, how you helped JR and Sam when they needed it. Some might think about doing things like that, a few might actually do them once in a while, but you live it out every day. Then there’s the bonus stuff. Your beauty. That irresistible body of yours.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Not being able to touch you has been an absolute living hell. I can’t even close my eyes without remembering how you feel, how you taste, how you smell, and how it feels when we’re together.”
“Me, too,” she admitted, voice soft as the fade at the end of a song.
He reached out for the guitar, smiling so