Page 98 of Tough Love
The thought stabs painfully at my chest.
“Whatever you need to do,” I say, plastering on a forced smile. “I understand.”
“You’re so amazing.” He leans over and kisses my head. “You know that, right?”
I shrug, smiling despite my pain. “I better go get dinner started.”
“Yeah, okay. I’m going to have a quick shower if that’s okay?” He rolls away, stretching out over the mattress as I stand.
“Of course. Take your time.” I lean down and give him a kiss. “Like you a lot, mister.”
“Like you even more,” he says as I back away, snagging me by the wrist to pull me in for another one.
If only I had the guts to tell him the truth.
The way I feel about Evan is way more than like.
Way more.
I love him.
Always have.
THIRTY-THREE
“I stopped by home and picked something up on my way here,” Evan says, reclined on the sofa.
I turn away from the latestMarried at First Sightepisode and raise my eyebrows. “Yeah?”
“Mmm. I thought maybe this Friday I could save you ten bucks.”
A smile creeps onto my lips. “What are you talking about?”
He grins, rolling onto his side to face me properly. “I’ll show you.”
“Okay.”
He dashes across the living room to snag his keys, and then disappears out the front door. I sit watching the TV, yet not taking in a single thing the contestants say as I wonder what he’s got with him. He reappears a few minutes later, closing the door softly, given Briar’s already in bed.
Evan sets a guitar case down beside the sofa, sitting down and then leaning over to click the catches open.
“No way.” I clap my hands excitedly.
He smiles, pulling the acoustic guitar from its velvet enclosure and positioning it on his legs.
“Are you going to sing it again for me?”
He shakes his head. “No.” His piercing blue eyes hold mine captive as he sighs. “Something better.” His fingers flick the strings as he checks the tuning. “Something that made me think of you every time I heard it, so I made it my mission to learn how to play it.”
God, could my heart swell any more for this man? “What is it?”
“A song by Tiki Taane. I’m sure you’ve heard it.”
He drags in a deep breath and starts, mucking up one of the notes. “Ugh. Hold on.” He closes his eyes, seeming to count in his head as he nods ever so slightly, and then plays.
The distinctive beat ofAlways On My Mindfills my small living room. His voice carries the melody perfectly; he was made to play this song.
He sings of undying love, of the perfect girl, the dream.