CHAPTER SIX
KNOX
We’ve been walking in silence ever since we got here, a stark contrast from the drive we took to get to the beach during which we rambled and ranted nonstop.
Maybe the carb coma is kicking in, or the caffeine is wearing off.
Or maybe, it’s just the question that’s been lingering at the forefront of my mind ever since Arizona made that remark about Kenley not believing these feelings were mutual.
I knew the whole ride over I was going to ask once we got here.
Walking barefoot in the sand, stars and moon overhead and the waves crashing in peaceful rhythm alongside us, seems like the perfect setting to scrap small talk and get serious.
And yet, I’ve been struggling the get the words past my lips for the last five minutes.
“Tell me why you’re having a hard time believing I could genuinely be interested in you.” Not exactly a question after all. But something tells me I’ll get better results phrasing it this way. And I want results. Real insight. Not a brush off, denying the issue.
“You mean outside of the whole ‘you could have any woman you want’ thing?” she counters. I make a mental note of her attempt to make a joke out of it, but I don’t react.
“Tell me,” I softly reiterate my former request, squeezing her hand gently.
Even in the dark I can see her expression well enough to know she’s fighting with herself about the answer. When she finally opens her mouth, it’s only to snap it shut again a second later. She does this at least three times, before words actually start to spill out.
“Here’s the thing. And it’s a thing I generally don’t open with and will likely wish I hadn’t, but you asked and for some stupid reason I believe you sincerely want to know, so here it is.
I have successfully attracted two types of men in my life.
One, the super charming-but-not-so-nice abusive sort which I married, by the way, and two, the ‘this chick seems like an awesome idea’, but really, I’m going to end up with the woman I’m truly in love with and just can’t have right now sort.
Conveniently enough, both types of men always seem to enjoy the idea of having me, like I’m some strange sort of novelty item they love to own but can’t seem capable of genuinely falling in love with.
” She throws her hand up in a hurry, waving it back and forth as if to negate something she’s just said.
“Which I’m obviously not suggesting I expect you to do. ”
“Fall in love with you?”
“Yeah, that part.” She drops her hand again and turns her head to stare out at the ocean. I’d be perfectly fine thinking she’s enjoying the view, but I know she’s really just pulling away from me the only way she can since I’m still holding onto her other hand.
I stop and use the grip I have on her to gently, but firmly, swing her around to face me. “Expect it.”
“You’re insane.” Only, if she really thought that she’d probably be back to putting some distance between us, not standing within inches of me.
“You don’t really believe that,” I say quietly. Her mouth is lacking any hint of a smile, but her eyes are lit up the same way they were when I first found her standing outside The House of Rock.
“You’re playing me.”
I’m not even surprised to hear her say that. I don’t answer right away, just watch her watching me, trying to anticipate my reaction. It’s as if she’s expecting me to look hurt. To pout or throw an insult her way. Guilt at the very least.
I’m not about to do any of those things.
I’m not even going to argue. Or deny it. I’m just going to tell her the truth.
“I’m waiting for you.” I lean down to kiss the top of her head before I start walking again, guiding her along as I do. “And not at a distance either,” I go on. “You try pushing me away all you like. It’s not going to work.”
“Why?” she demands. “Why me? Why?
“Are you asking me why because you need to hear it to talk down whatever mean girl lies your brain is spewing right now in an attempt to keep you from getting hurt or because you really don’t know?
” I know about that inner mean girl shit.
And I know about the assholes who come along and know how to turn that voice up by a hundred.
Saw it happen with my own sister. She was just in high school then, and it’s been twenty years since, but she still has moments where she wages war against the inner dialogue he left in his wake.
“I just need to know.” The fight is waning from her voice.
I stop again. This time, I turn myself toward her.
I can already tell it’s going to be an ongoing balancing act for a while, choosing when to be assertive to make her feel secure and when to give her the space to back up and let me come after her.
“I don’t know why,” I tell her as honestly as I can.
“I just know that something switched on inside me the second I heard you telling off that chick about misinterpreting my song. Which is about the beauty of each new town, by the way, and not about hooking up. Which I’ve done plenty of as well, but which this song is not about. ”
“I’m not feeling better about this,” she mutters, looking up at me sternly.
I grin. “Yeah, you are. Because the longer I go on about any of this, the more you’re getting out of your head.
And your head isn’t going to tell you anything important right now.
Hell, my head has been listing off reasons I should be halfway to Tennessee by now ever since I told you I was meeting you for pancakes.
But I’ve been ignoring my head. Because my goddamn heart is screaming a hell of a lot louder.
But it doesn’t use any fucking words. Just keeps pumping this feeling through me. ”
“What kind of a feeling?” she whispers, and finally, in her eyes, I can see it. Without a doubt. She feels it too.
KENLEY
Goddamn, the man gives a good speech. I’m desperately hoping he delivers another.
Just one little push, and I’ll believe it’s all possible.
Him. Me. The feeling I’ve had in the pit of my stomach since the first time I heard one of his songs.
Like he mattered. Not because of his music or his talent or any of the Knox Marley rock star bullshit. He just mattered. To me. Inexplicably.
When the silence between us drags on, I scramble for my own words, my own speech to convince him to answer.
Then, just as I’m about to open my mouth and blurt out whatever comes, he responds.
And it’s not at all what I expected.
His free hand reaches up to gently cup my cheek before it runs through my hair and curls around the back of my neck, drawing me to him. Within seconds, his lips are crushing mine and I’m swept up in a kiss I may never recover from.
“Next question,” he breathes against my lips, only allowing just enough distance between us to break the kiss.
“Are you capable of doing this?” I whisper. “Tell me honestly, are you capable of having something real with a boring forty- something single mom who keeps a garden and enjoys a cross-stitch project before bed?”
“You like to cross-stich?” He smiles and it lights up his eyes in the most adorable way.
“I do. Now answer mine.”
His hand slides from mine and his arm wraps around my waist. Being held by him feels safer than it should.
“The hooking up plenty was in my twenties and early thirties.” He chuckles softly.
“You’re not the only one in your forties here, remember?
I’m a grown-ass man. I want grown-ass man things.
Like a single mom who gardens and enjoys a cross-stitch project before bed.
” He tips his forehead to mine. “But you sure as shit aren’t boring.
So, the answer is yes, I’m capable of doing this.
I’ve been capable for a long time. Contrary to public opinion, that’s not been the issue.
Just didn’t have someone I wanted to do it with.
” He twists his mouth back and forth before he adds, “I know a little something about being that novelty item myself. So, I guess I need to ask you too. Are you capable of seeing me beyond the Knox Marley persona?”
I don’t answer right away. Not because I don’t know the answer, but because I want to make sure I say it right.
“When Arizona first wanted me to go get in line for the meet and greet, my instinct was to bolt. Just get the hell out of there. The idea of standing face to face with Knox Marley scared the shit out of me. But then, the second I saw your face on my phone screen, I saw you . I heard you . I felt you . And there wasn’t anything scary about it.
Then you told me you were coming outside to see me, and I was thrilled.
Until you hung up, and I thought, holy shit, Knox Marley is coming out here to see me.
But then, there you were and being with you felt completely natural.
” I smile, thinking about those first moments between us.
It’s still surreal. Not because of who he is, but because of how we – me and him together - felt.
“But then after you asked me for my number and went back inside, all I could think was, Knox Marley just asked for my number! It sounded insane inside my own head. And then again, out loud when I told Arizona.” I close my eyes, formulating the final piece of my answer.
“I guess my point is, if all I could see was Knox Marley the persona , then all I would be able to see is how crazy this is. Because Knox Marley the persona, isn’t real.
And therefore, anything happening between me and him, isn’t real either.
” I shake my head. “I’m a sucker for fairy tales and devour cheesy chick flicks every weekend, Knox, and even I couldn’t sell myself on an insta-love between a single mom and a rock star.
But two strangers meeting and feeling an instant, undeniable connection?
That’s a story I’ve believed in since I first saw Cinderella and fell in love with love to begin with. ”