Chapter 33
Maddy
Honestly, I can’t believe that I thought Ace was romantic when we were together because he would put out a blanket on the living room floor of our flat and make a little picnic with Yorkshire puddings he’d make for us.
Not that it wasn’t cute, it was, but poor Ace.
What romantic gestures he did do still pale in comparison to what Jett has planned for me tonight, something I didn’t even think was possible.
I am sitting at a table for two, but this is not a restaurant, and we’re not inside. Where are we? Well, it’s a runner-up to being one of the seven wonders of the world, and I’m not just being dramatic this time.
The table for two is at Stonehenge. The fucking Stonehenge, and somehow Jett convinced them to let us have a catered dinner after tourist hours, right in front of it as the sun begins to set.
The fading light bathes the ancient stones, and I gasp as the muted sun shines straight through the clouds and between the rocks.
I have toured this marvel as a child and again as a teen, but it has never felt as magical as it does with Jett here.
We swapped our leather for thick peacoats, and our server lit candles and iced the champagne.
He served us our first course and immediately disappeared into his catering truck to give us privacy. He was just adorable.
I try to focus on the incredible present and not the very near prospect of what will happen tonight when we have the Old Wardour to ourselves, but an anticipatory chill wracks through me anyway.
Jett pours the bubbles into my glass and proposes a toast, “Just wanted to say how proud I am of us, Baby, for being so busy and working so hard to get our way to the top, while still being together, pretty much all the time. No one thought we could do it, but I think we’re absolutely killing it at this whole being in love thing. ”
I clink my glass to his. “We’re like, really fucking good at it.
” I grin and sip. No, no, no, I tell my brain, don’t even think about the dreaded season three call and how your heart will feel like it’s in the blender on the puree setting when you’re stuck filming and Jett’s on stage in Tokyo, Paris, Rio …
“And how am I doing at my whole spoiling Baby Morningstar goal?”
“Jett!” I exclaim with a laugh. “You obliterated that goal with the sex alone. Truly, you do not need to do all of this; you already have me hooked, Baby.”
“But you like it, don’t you? This isn’t too—”
“Nothing you are, nothing you do, nothing you say, nothing you feel will ever be too much for me. This is the most perfect date I have ever been on, and to say I feel properly adored and spoiled, all of those descriptions are a gross understatement, Mr. Raven.”
“Fuck. Now you’ve done it, Baby. Now I have to see it. Mrs. Raven.”
I fight the urge to roll my eyes because I was about to demolish the truffle-infused scallops on my plate.
But that can wait a minute since Jett is so cute.
He wants to see one of his many goals he’s checked-off, my future name in ink.
I hope and pray I’ll never have to do another sex scene with Ace, but if I had to, it would be so satisfying to see his face when he caught a glimpse of this as the cameras avoid it.
I stand, walk two whole steps, and turn my back to Jett as he lifts my coat and my top while lowering my beltline enough to see his claim on me inked permanently across my lower back.
He curses under his breath and grips my hips before kissing every ornately scrawled letter.
“I swear, beautiful, if I ever win a Grammy or ten, the feeling would never compare to having won you. Owning you. It’s the best feeling in the world.
” My head is filled with otherworldly tingles as he traces each letter with his finger and again with his tongue.
“Sorry, darling, you need to eat, please, sit.”
“You’re what I want to be eating, darling.”
“I’m afraid you’re the one that’s going to be getting devoured tonight, Baby. Now, let me see you eat.”
I swirl the scallop in pesto mashed potatoes and savour the bite.
“Good girl.”
I moan, and he takes a bite of rustic sourdough, his eyes rolling back in his head, and, true, he doesn’t eat many carbs, but I don’t think it’s just because of the bread that he moans right back.
“So … earlier you said you had a dream about me last night?”
He groans, “Yes! That abhorrent Ava interrupted me before I could tell you.”
I love how much he hates my cast because, honestly, they’re all uptight twats.
“So … don’t freak out and go all Jett has powers and he can bend time and space and all that, but … I’m pretty sure it was a future vision, Baby. Like, I’m gonna make sure this happens.”
I down my champagne because I feel an idea ramble coming, and yes, every time those happen, the idea comes to fruition, we know this. I brace myself. “Let me guess, a sex dream?”
Jett swallows a bite and makes a buzzer sound, “Err! Not even close. Okay, so you were directing a slasher flick, like a really cool one, Baby. Not predictable at all. Mick wrote the script with you, and we were both in it. You and me, the final girl and the killer. And the soundtrack was all me, or like, at least half my songs and the other half we picked together. It was incredible, Mads, it’s … it’s what I want for us.”
A blubbery, happy little sound bubbles up in my throat and a tear rolls down my cheek. The way this man sees me, sees what I want and need, even in his sleep? He’s nothing short of a miracle.
My voice shakes with joy. “You want that for us? That’s the dream! Oh my God, you wanna act, Baby?” Oh shit, another happy tear. I have thought about what an incredible actor Jett would make many times, but his plate is full enough, and I didn’t want him to feel more pressure than he already does.
He nods and thanks our server as he brings red wine and wagyu steak. “You like that?”
“Like it? Jett!”
He leans over and wipes away another tear, licking it off his fingertip like a true weirdo.
“Baby, we’re doing it. As soon as my tour is over. I can even start composing some songs for it on tour once we know the vibe and storyline—”
I cut him off with a kiss over the table to show him how much this means to me and how the thought of getting to do this with him will keep me going; even if I have to be stuck in the North for months.
“Thank you,” I say against his lips. “I love you. You even make my dreams come true when you’re sleeping, that’s how I know you’re made for me, Baby.”
He grins, and I force myself to sit back down.
“Glad you like the idea as much as I do. That’s why, after we eat and the harvest moon rises and we walk around these old rocks while you tell me all the cool history about them under the full moon … we’re going to head to Old Wardour to … practice.”
I gulp audibly. “Practice … for our slasher movie that hasn’t been written yet?”
Jett knocks back his wine and nods. “I’m going to have so much fun capturing you, final girl.”
“You mean to tell me you’ve somehow procured masks and knives and—”
“Does that surprise you, darling?” His eyes twinkle with the most tantalizing mischief.
“No!” I admit in a horny huff. And just like that, I can think of nothing else for the rest of dinner.