Chapter 39
Aidan
If Cielo can face potential cancer while barely flinching, I can surely sever ties with my record label. I have the realization as I stare at her gorgeous face on the exam table, my heart full.
Before I became a full-time musician, I worked with some damn good solicitors—one of them should be able to help me negotiate buying out my contract without destroying my professional reputation or going destitute in the process.
Paying back my advance and penalties is a certainty, though, meaning I won’t be able to help my parents again for a while.
But I know they’d want me to stand up and keep my integrity, just like Lo does.
My phone buzzes on the little counter next to the examination table where Lo is still resting after her procedure.
Her eyes dart to mine. “Gonna answer that?”
It’s probably Martin calling to convince me I’ve made the biggest mistake of my career and that he’s the only one who can guide me to the next step of success now. No thank you to that conversation.
When I pull my phone out, Nigel Culpepper’s name is on the screen instead.
“Babe,” Lo says softly when she reads it. “Pick up your phone.”
“He’s probably only calling to yell at me.”
Noisy paper crumples under her as she takes the device from my hand and places it between us. It vibrates one more time. Getting my hopes up is terrifying—but I’d done just that with Lo and been rewarded. I brace myself.
She taps to pick up on speaker and my heart races as it clicks on.
“You canceled our meeting today,” Nigel says abruptly.
No hello, no confirming that it’s me. The pause afterward is expectant, and I wonder if he’s waiting for me to profusely apologize and beg for a second chance. I won’t. There’s only one person worth doing that for.
Clearing my throat, I respond, “Yes. I apologize for the inconvenience. A personal emergency came up. I had to travel to Galway today on short notice.”
“You don’t write bullshit. And I don’t produce bullshit. So don’t give me bullshit.”
Cielo’s brows silently jump. People have warned me he’s blunt. Fine. I can be, as well.
“I couldn’t be there today because someone I love, the person I wrote those songs about, needed me,” I explain. “You’re right. You don’t produce bullshit and I don’t write it. The songs on the demo I sent over come from something real. A real person I couldn’t abandon in her time of need.”
A pause settles on the line between us. Lo doesn’t move. I don’t move.
“I’ve chosen not to work with bigger artists than you for far less.”
“I understand. I won’t apologize for going to the love of my life’s biopsy appointment.” I squeeze Lo’s hand.
“It’s the selfishness of this industry that makes me picky about who I interact with. My time is too precious to suffer wankers with their heads up their own asses.”
Nigel misunderstands me, then. But I’ve said my piece, consequences be damned.
“I liked the demo,” he finally adds. For the first time since our conversation began, I feel like I can suck in half a breath. “There’s something special here.”
Lo’s eyes sparkle. She’s inspired all my best work, and this is no exception. She brings out the best in me.
“When can you get here for us to start working on this album?” he asks.
An incredulous gasp leaves my chest, but I don’t know what to tell him. I won’t leave Lo when she needs me the most. Worry replaces that twinkle in her eye. This answer will be what decides it.
“That all depends on her test results.”
Her eyes pinch closed, and she squeezes my hand back.
“Good on you,” Nigel says. “How about you have your manager call me when you know?”
“Actually, Martin and I have parted ways.” I look over at Lo and gather myself. This was going so well, too. “And this isn’t the best time for me anymore. I’m in the early process of leaving my label.”
Pride fills Lo’s eyes at my words. If I didn’t already know it’s the right decision, that alone could have convinced me. Even if they let me record this album my way, it wouldn’t be because they respect me as an artist. It would be because it’s a collaboration with a hitmaker.
“May I ask what happened?”
“They care about my image more than the quality of the music. That’s not the kind of artist I wish to be.”
Nigel is quiet for a moment. I know what it looks like: volatile and flaky. Then he says, “The timing might be better than you think.” The cryptic response makes Lo and I glance at each other. “In the next year, I’ll be starting my own label and I’ve been looking for artists to sign.”
Lo’s face lights up as he and I make tentative plans to discuss more after I’ve hired an entertainment lawyer and figured out the label situation.
“And, Aidan?” Nigel says as the conversation winds down. “I hope it’s good news for your girlfriend.”
“Thank you.” I repeat a softer thank you, and the line goes dead.
“Holy. Shit. Holy shit!” Lo shouts, then cringes when she remembers where we are. She throws her arms around my neck. “Nigel freaking Culpepper wants to sign you. That just happened.”
Relief settles over me. I let myself go slack and fall back onto the hospital room’s stiff side chair. Lo follows, coming to rest on my chest and curling herself into my lap.
“Nigel gets it, more than Martin does,” I say. “I didn’t expect that.”
“You fired him? And left your label? Today?” she asks.
“I haven’t spoken to the label yet, but they’re trying to turn me into a douchebag. You were right, I need to keep my own creative control. As for Martin, he wouldn’t listen when I told him how important it was to be here today. He tried to convince me to stay for the meeting.”
“If I knew you were trying to cancel it to see me, I’d have done the same thing.”
My hand smooths over her hair as she presses her face against my chest. “We’ve been apart too long. You can try, but you won’t keep me away.”
Back in Lo’s apartment, we deposit our shoes tidily by the door and she tugs me by the hand toward the bedroom.
Early evening light streams through the window that faces the funeral home’s rose garden. I draw the curtain shut as she collapses onto the bed still in my ugly jumper. Lying on her side, she avoids putting pressure on the biopsied hip. I claim the other side of the bed, lying down and facing her.
“How are you feeling?” I ask.
“Glad you’re home.” Lo reaches out and caresses my bare jaw. “Why’d you shave your beard again?”
“Because you’re into my dimples. I don’t care what the label’s focus group liked.”
“I like you however you feel most comfortable.” She drops a finger into one of the dimples.
I turn to kiss the palm of her hand. “You like me?”
She smiles. “A little bit, yeah.”
We might receive news that changes our lives soon. We might learn it was a false alarm. Either way, I’m staying by Cielo’s side and she knows that now.
“Can I hold you?”
Lo turns and presses her back against my chest. I breathe in rosemary and drape an arm around her soft belly.
It’s so comforting, I assume she’s drifting off to sleep until she nudges her backside against me with a little wiggle.
Then she does it again. Subtle but unmistakable.
I slide my hand from her stomach to graze her breasts and am rewarded with a short gasp.
“Are you sure?” She’s still in pain from the biopsy and there is a bandaged wound to avoid. I don’t want to rush it.
“I don’t know if I can trust my own body right now. It feels like it’s going to betray me,” Lo answers softly. “But I can trust you to make me feel good.”
She twists to face me, kissing me softly at first, then passionately. I bury my hands in her thick hair and suck her tongue until she’s grinding back against me.
“I’ll be gentle,” I promise in between kisses. She wants to get out of her head, and I’ll help her do that. “Tell me exactly what you need.”
“Your hands.”
Lo carefully removes her trousers and my jumper to reveal a bandage on her hip that I’ll avoid, but I brush her hair off her collarbone and hook a finger in the strap of her bra, slowly taking it down one side at a time.
Brushing my nose along her exposed neck, her jaw as I do.
Some of the tension in her shoulders melts away when I unfasten her bra and the cups fall.
She shivers as my hands brush her pebbled nipples.
Lying on my side behind her, my hands explore her voluptuous body, still relearning every swell and dip.
I want to memorize every perfect inch of her.
Lo guides my hand first to her mouth, sucking two fingers, then places my fingers beneath the waistband of her knickers.
Soon she’s clenching, keening, quivering under my touch.
I grind against her for some relief, but this is all about her.
I don’t need anything else. Her pleasure—her escape, her grounding, her emotional rest—is more than enough for me.
Then she whispers, “I want you, Aidan.”
“I’m here. I’m yours, babe.”
“I’m yours.” She hauls me closer, smothering me in a fiery kiss.
It only takes a few moments to slide on a condom that I grab from her nightstand. My hands trail up the small of her back to hold her firmly in place as I slide in from behind. Cielo moans and brings them back to circle her clit—I do so love it when she tells me what to do.
Despite the injury, she still takes me so well, eagerly rocking back till I’m deep and we form a cautious, slow rhythm.
I can’t help but look down, admiring the way her round arse jostles with each gentle thrust. Tension coils deep in my stomach as I try to make this last for her, but the intensity builds quickly.
Her body is rigid, breath coming in short gasps.
She’s close, but she’s holding on to control too tight to let it happen.
“Give in, Lo,” I whisper in her ear and give the lobe a soft nibble. “It’s okay to let go.”
With a shudder and a delicious moan that I feel deep in my own body, she gives in. Climax surges through me a moment later. It’s so intense that I can’t even speak, I just repeat her name over and over.
I fall onto my back and Cielo curls into my side, resting her head on my chest. My heartbeat must be frantic under her ear, but I feel at peace when she brushes a lock of hair from my forehead.
Lo is the strongest person I know; she inspires me to be a braver man. We can face whatever the future holds together when the time comes, but in this moment, we’re safe. We’re home.