Chapter 17 #2
“Maisie,” he says, his voice husky and filled with the impact of our newfound physical bond. “There’s no doubt in my mind that I want to be with you. When I look into the future, I see you in every scene. I can’t even imagine the emptiness I would feel if you weren’t there.”
My eyes glisten. I swallow and lower my chin briefly before bringing my eyes back to his and listen with my entire being to this man that I have fallen in love with.
“I’ve spent all this time since I left the band hiding. Holding parts of myself back.” He pauses, brushing his thumb along the back of my hand. “But not with you. With you, I want to share everything—my thoughts and emotions. My music…my body.”
His voice catches slightly, and when he goes on, it’s steadier. “I want you to have all of it. Because I trust you with all of me.”
He squeezes my hand. “You and me—we see the real versions of each other. And we still stay. I know that now. And I hope you do, too.”
Without letting go of my hands, Beau softly caresses my cheeks, now damp with tears, with one of his thumbs freed from within our clasped hands.
These tears are not sad ones. They’re tears of joy, of feeling wanted.
In barely more than a whisper, I assure him, “I do. I do know that, Beau. And I trust you with all of me also.”
He nods, his eyes so full of love it almost seems as if it will overflow—too much love for one vessel, brimming past the edges of what one heart can hold.
My world is completely changing. The night feels bright and golden, as though I’ve discovered buried treasure I get to keep forever.
It’s not the room that’s changed—it’s me.
All the past versions of myself have stepped aside to make space for this one, the one who gets to be loved like this.
Beau goes on, his voice holding back tears of his own, “And because of that—because what we have is so real—I want our first time to be within the bounds of a forever commitment.”
His words land in the center of me, glowing and powerful. A stillness takes over, not hesitation, but awe. Because this isn’t simply desire. It’s devotion.
“I want to give myself to you…when I’m your husband.”
I gasp softly, and in that second, I realize that’s what I want, also. I want to be this man’s wife and let the physical crescendo of our love wait until after we are married.
Beau releases my hands and pulls me into a tight embrace. I’m amazed how, in only this one week, I’ve come to love him so much. And how perfectly our bodies fit together. This space in his arms, pressed against him, was made for me.
After a few minutes, he presses a kiss to the top of my head, then rests his chin there and says, “Maisie, I’m gonna be honest, I either need to walk you home now or take a cold shower.”
I laugh, not breaking the spell but loosening the pull between us just enough for us to make our way out the front door. Beau walks slowly, and I match his pace, not wanting the night to end.
I trace a finger over the back of his hand.
Above us, the stars have gathered in the dark navy sky as silent witnesses, solemn and gleaming. I don’t want to break the calm, but I have to know.
“There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you,” I whisper. “A day or so ago, before all of this…I heard you playing.”
Beau’s brow furrows slightly. “When?”
“I was outside the music hall. I saw someone leave. You didn’t see me, and I didn’t mean to eavesdrop—it just happened, and your voice…
” I pause, searching for the right words.
“It didn’t sound like a performance, not even a rehearsal.
It sounded as though your heart was unraveling, right there in the chords. ”
His body goes still beside me. “You heard that one?”
I nod. “It felt different. As if you were letting yourself bleed onto the strings. And I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since. What was that song?”
He exhales slowly. “It wasn’t…isn’t…finished. Barely even started. I never meant for anyone to hear it. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think about what it would mean if you ever did.”
“I know,” I say. “But I did. And it felt…I sensed it was the truest part of you.”
Beau looks away, his voice low. “I wrote that one in fragments. After the cabin getaway. After that kiss. After I realized I was already too far gone to pretend our relationship didn’t matter to me.”
We’ve reached Botaniq?e now, and we stand on the sidewalk outside the shop. I pause for a full breath, in, out, heart thudding against my ribs. “It felt like a message you weren’t ready to say out loud.”
He nods, slowly. “I wasn’t. Not then. But I am ready now.”
His voice caresses me, “It was about you. Every note. Every word I couldn’t say to you yet, I poured into that song.”
“I don’t need to hear you play it again,” I whisper. “But I needed to know…” My voice trails off.
The silence folds in around us.
“We hadn’t spoken in three days that night I heard you playing,” I whisper. “And I was terrified you’d already decided there wasn’t a place for me in your heart. That you’d casually discarded me.”
I slide my hands along his jaw, gently turning him so our eyes meet again. “When I heard you singing that you wanted…” I blink, feeling a burn behind my eyelids. “That you wanted the real me… I felt found.”
I wipe a tear from my cheek. “As though you’d been searching for me, desiring me. I already knew I loved you. But the moment I heard you singing then, I knew there was no going back for me. It was your music that told me you loved me, too—and somehow, it made me feel safe enough to believe it.”
He places his palm over the hand I still press to his jaw and wraps his fingers around mine, his eyes closing for just a second. Then they reopen, steady and bright. “I didn’t know if you’d ever tell me that,” he says softly. “But I hoped.”
He looks deep into my eyes with no shields. “Maisie, that song frightened me, too. Because it was confirmation to me that I love you. And I thought maybe I’d ruined it before I ever had the guts to tell you.
“It also scared me,” he swallows hard, “because it didn’t just sound like me. It was me. And somehow, it sounded like you, too.”
I consider that: how we’d both been carrying the same ache in different shapes.
He lets out a breath.
I squeeze his hand.
“So yeah, I was hoping. But I was also hiding. Because that song wasn’t just for you. It was you. And if I got it wrong, I didn’t know how I’d live with that.”
“Beau, my love,” I pull him into my arms. He strengthens the embrace, shaking slightly with the depth of his emotion.
Then I speak into his chest, directly to his heart, “You didn’t get it wrong. You got it right. So very right.”