A Love Song for Always - Piper Lawson Page 0,8
a balloon.
“I was thinking how we were apart on New Year’s. You wanted somewhere with a view of the stars.” Taking my hand, he leads me to the edge that overlooks the view below. He gestures to the sprawling acres of West Hollywood. “How’s this?”
I laugh. “Star-studded.”
His grin tells me he’s happy that I’m happy. There’s no better feeling than seeing this man happy, knowing I had a hand in it.
“It’s really beautiful,” I say, “but I can’t wait to head to the island. Where we can see real stars at night. I want to sit out under them with you.”
Our waitress comes over with a bottle of wine.
The label has memories lighting up my brain. “This is what we drank when you followed me to New York.”
When the waitress disappears, he lifts his glass. “To us. Then. Now. Always.”
The simple toast is perfect, and I clink my rim to his. “Always.”
I take a long sip, the red wine thrumming in my veins the second it hits my stomach.
“What’re you getting?” I ask him after we glance at the menus.
“Steak. You?”
“A salad. Haley and I are going to see my dress in the morning, and I need to fit into it.”
He leans in, his expression filling with blatant interest. “Tell me about this dress.”
My lips twitch. “No.”
“One hint.” His impatient exhale reminds me he’s not used to people denying him.
“No hints.”
“You’ll tell me anything I want when those heels are locked around my waist in a couple of hours.”
Heat floods me.
“I guess we’ll find out.” I pick up my wine again, twirling the stem. “I can’t believe Dad and Haley get here tomorrow morning. Or that Sophie’s going into first grade next year. I still remember when Haley was pregnant with…”
His gaze drops to my stomach, and I stop mid-sip of wine.
“What?” I ask.
“I keep thinking about what you’ll look like when you’re pregnant.”
The way he says it, warm and sexy, tells me exactly what he thinks I’ll look like.
It’s something we’ve talked about but not in a few months.
“My childhood wasn’t the greatest, but whose was? You said I needed something bigger than myself to believe in. I didn’t understand it at the time, but I do now.” His gaze searches mine, and the hope I see affects me every bit as much as his words.
“You told me once you want children who glare at us with my eyes and scream at us with your mouth.” My heart is kicking so hard it might escape my ribs.
“I’ll be a musician forever, Annie. We both will because it’s in us. But I don’t need to have a career like your dad, selling out stadiums for over a decade. I get why he did it though. For you.
“That’s why I want to do this deal. Artists flame out all the time, and the next person to burn out could be me. Your dad is the exception, not the rule. This label, run right, will provide for us after I stop being on stage. If you ever decide to stop, for kids or any other reason, you won’t have to worry. Nor will our kids, or their kids, or their kids’ kids.”
His commitment makes my heart ache. He grew up with nothing, and I know how important security has always been to him. There’s no amount of money in the world that would shake loose that fear in him.
“If it’s only an investment, why not leave it in the hands of the lawyers and financial managers? You’ve worked hard for this time off. We both have,” I remind him.
Tyler’s brows pull together. “I don’t think I realized how big an investment it was when I signed on. But once I started looking through the paperwork, I found something I didn’t expect. Memories. We met at Wicked. I got to know you there, in Philly all those years ago. It’s a piece of our past, and it could be a piece of our future. Only if we want it,” he finishes, sensing my uncertainty.
The tiny lights tucked into the trees leave his face mostly in darkness, and I itch to trace my hands over those planes.
It’s hard to argue with a sentimental Tyler Adams. There are few things he holds precious, and the idea that he treasures those times when we first hung out... My romantic heart can’t find it in me to deny him.
Still, I hate the thought of sharing him this week for a second longer than necessary. I feel as