I don’t do anything about it.
I wipe a piece of hair from her forehead after she settles onto the pillow next to me. “God, you’re beautiful.”
Her cheeks flush. “Christopher.”
I kiss her. “It’s true. I think God put you on earth just for me.” I get out of bed. “Wait here.” I run across the room and grab my notebook and a pencil, then jump back in bed.
She giggles. “Did you get inspired again?”
“You always inspire me, babe.”
I sit against the headboard and look at her as words effortlessly flow out of me and onto the paper. She scoots up and sits next to me, looking over my shoulder as I work.
“Is that the way you really feel?” she asks.
I drop the notebook and pull her close. “I love you, Abby Evans.” I look her straight in the eye. “I swear I’ll never say that to another woman.”
“Ever?”
“Ever.”
She breaks into a brilliant smile. Then she picks up the notebook and sings the lyrics I wrote, sounding like a goddamn angel. She sings even better than she plays the flute. Every word makes my heart pound. She finds just the right melody to bring the lyrics to life, and I vow to record it exactly like she’s singing it.
When she’s done, I trap her under me. “Join the band. Do you know how big we’d get with you as our lead singer?”
“You already have a lead singer, and he’s brilliant.”
“Okay, co-lead singer. You can play the tambourine or something. That would be so sexy. With your throaty voice you’d be like a young Stevie Nicks.”
“I’m not singing for Naked Whale. My dad would never allow it.”
“What if I asked him? I can be very convincing.”
“You’d do that?”
“Of course. That’s how much I want you.”
She smirks. “Are we still talking about singing?”
I lean down to kiss her. “Maybe.”
She wiggles out from under me. “Let’s get dressed. It’s almost time for your mom to get home.”
I pull on my boxers. “Are you working tonight?”
“No.”
“Why don’t you come with me to rehearsal? Sing a few bars. See how it feels.”
She looks at the floor. “I don’t know. Maybe you shouldn’t push your girlfriend on the rest of the band.”
“Are you kidding? They love you. Come on. Just one song. Then we’ll see what happens.”
“Which song?”
I know exactly what I want to hear her sing. I wrote it as a duet, even though I sing it solo. “‘Across the Room’.”
Her eyes meet mine. “That’s the one you wrote the day we met.”
“Maybe I sensed even then you’d be a great addition to the band.”
She holds up a finger. “One song. That’s it. I mean it, Christopher. I’m not promising anything.”
I race around the bed and pull her into my arms.
“Don’t get too excited,” she says. “There’s the whole getting my dad on-board thing, and you know how he hates rock bands.”
“We’ll start singing Christian music, then.” I wink.
She laughs loudly. “Naked Whale singing Christian songs? I don’t think so.”
“You have no idea how far I’d go to get you.”
She wraps her hands around my neck. “You already have me.”
“And that makes me the luckiest man alive.”
We hear the garage door opening, so we go to the living room and turn on the TV. Mom walks in with an armful of groceries. Abby hops off the couch even before I do.
“Hi, Mrs. Rewey. Can I help you with that?”
“I’ve got it,” I say, taking the bags from my mom. “What’s for dinner?”
“I was thinking pot roast. Abby, would you like to eat with us?”
“That sounds wonderful. I just need to clear it with my dad.”
“I’ll text him and let him know I invited you,” Mom says, fully aware of Dr. Evans and all his rules. “Seven o’clock work for you?”
“Seven sounds great,” I say. “We’re going to rehearsal in a few. Abby’s going to try singing today.”
Mom puts down the milk carton in her hand. “You don’t say? I think that’s a fine idea. You have such a lovely voice, dear. I’m sure you’ll be a great addition to the band.”
“See? Now why can’t my parents react like that?” Abby says.
Mom laughs and touches her shoulder. “You’re a girl. That’s the difference. I’m not sure I’d be okay with everything Chris does if he weren’t a boy. I know that’s sexist, but it’s just how it is. Cut them some slack. They only want you happy and safe.”
Mom’s always been my biggest cheerleader. It’s hard for me to imagine parents being any other way. But Abby’s parents—her