Sway

by Melanie Stanford

  I give myself to you again

  My heart is more your own

  Than when you broke it years ago

  You pierce my soul

  Tell me you still love me

  Tell me it’s not too late

  Give me one more chance

  Let me sway you

  Back to me

  Eric didn’t look at me while he sang—his eyes were on the keys. His voice danced along my skin leaving droplets of sweat behind. My breath rose to his crescendos and fell at his descents.

  Don’t say I forgot you

  Don’t say I never loved

  There’s no one else but you, babe

  You pierce my soul

  He finally looked at me. I was frozen—locked in his song, his voice, his gaze, as tightly as if he was squeezing his arms around me and holding me in place.

  I’ve been weak, I’ve been resentful

  But I’ve never been inconstant

  I think and plan for you alone

  Can’t you see and understand?

  Tell me you still love me

  Tell me it’s not too late

  Give me one more chance

  Let me sway you

  Back to me

  The way he was looking at me, singing to me, begging me, I knew. The song was for me. It was a wish, a plea that I come back to him. As if there was any other option. As if I wanted anyone else but him.

  Give me just one word

  Give me just a look

  Give me one more chance

  Let me sway you

  Back to me

  You pierce my soul

  Let me sway you

  Back to me

  Sway you

  Back to me

  A few more notes and it was over, the last chord echoing quietly through the room. We stared at each other in silence, both frozen in our last position. And then he was up, off the piano bench and standing in front of me in one fluid movement.

  He reached out and cupped my face. “Well?”

  Tears stung my eyes but I didn’t want to cry. Not now. Not when I was so happy.

  “You could never be too late. I haven’t stopped waiting. I would wait forever.”

  Eric started breathing faster, his own nervousness finally breaking through.

  “I never stopped loving you.” I barely managed to choke out the words. I inched my body closer to his, my head tilting back. “I made a mistake. I regretted it a second after it happened. But…” But he hadn’t let me take it back.

  “No, I was afraid. I was so terrified that your family would tear us apart piece by piece. I couldn’t run, so I pushed you away. I made the mistake.” He shook his head. “I tried to move on, to forget you. But it has always been you. I love you. Then. Now. Always.”

  My lips met his. He kissed me, hands lightly resting on my hips. Then he pulled back, far too soon. My heart filled with dread at the crease between his eyebrows.

  “I hate to ask this, but I have to.” He searched my face. “Are you sure? I mean, really sure?”

  “Yes, you bozo!” My eyes flashed, I clenched my jaw. The tears were gone, replaced with fierce determination. My hands grabbed his shirt in fistfuls and held on tight. “Nothing, and no one, will change my mind.” I yanked him closer. “Ever.”

  It was all he needed. His mouth crashed onto mine. His hands squeezed my hips, pressing me into his body. His heart pounded underneath my fists. I let go of his shirt and wrapped my arms around his neck, drawing him closer, wanting to feel his heart beat against mine.

  It was even better than I remembered. I forgot myself, the past, all the mistakes and heartache, and just reveled in his kisses. Kisses that were mine again. Kisses that I would never give up.

  Later, much later this time, he pulled back, both of us left breathless.

  “Ava,” he said at last. “I love you.”

  I smiled.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  I wanted to disappear into Eric’s world and forget my own completely, but that wasn’t possible. I had a family I cared about and loved. A family I hoped would be just a teeny bit more supportive this time around. So I put them to the test—inviting my family and Eric’s for dinner at the beach house.

  Our relationship seemed as natural to most as it did to us. Richard and Sophia, and Adam and Britt shrugged it off as if they assumed we’d gotten back together weeks ago. But then, they were Eric’s family, not mine. The Elliots would be a harder sell, or so I thought.

  To everyone else, Beth pretended like she’d been the first to know. To me, she said without malice but perhaps a hint of jealousy, “You get everything.”

  Lacey’s shock was only momentary with Sam there to clear things up. Only Mari put up a fuss, probably more for her own benefit than ours. Charlie put a stop to it when he announced that he’d booked a vacation for just the two of them to Mykonos.

  Later, when Lexi caught us kissing in the kitchen, her only reaction was, “Nice.”

  We broke apart just as she was snapping a photo on her smartphone.

  I pressed my lips together, trying not to let the taste of Eric’s mouth distract me. “It was until you interrupted.”

  She arched an eyebrow at me. “We’ll talk later.”

  So far, no one seemed to have a problem with the news. But there was still my dad, and Aunt Rose.

  After dinner, Dad walked into the living room where we were all visiting, cell phone in hand. “It pays to use face cream. I’ve always said.” The way he sat in his chair was like a king bestowing us, his subjects, with his magnificence.

  We waited.

  “No one’s going to ask?” He looked tremendously disappointed.

  “I will,” I said. “Why does it pay to use face cream? Except for the obvious reason, of course?”

  He glared at me. “The obvious reason is the most important! Wrinkle prevention. What could be more important than that?”

  I held back an eye-roll.

  “It’s all thanks to my cream that I look this good. And now, I get to share it with the world.”

  “What do you mean?” Beth asked.

  He stared around the room, drawing the moment out. “Behold, the new face of Botticelli for Men face cream.”

  My mouth dropped open. “No way! That’s great, Dad!” Sounds of congratulations floated around the room. Beth planted a kiss on his cheek. Dad beamed.

  Aunt Rose and I exchanged a glance. We both knew what this meant—more money to pay off his debts and getting Kellynch back sooner.

  “I’ll be in magazine ads, commercials, the works. Who knows, maybe I’ll even get back on TV.” As Dad began to tell us how he’d landed the contract, I put my empty plate on the floor and then settled into Eric. He wrapped his arm over my shoulders and pressed his cheek against my head. Aunt Rose’s eyes met mine. She smiled. It was a smile of relief.

  “If any man should advertise face cream, your dad is the man,” Eric said into my ear.

  I smiled up at him and he took the opportunity to peck me on the lips.

  Dad’s words faltered. He raised an eyebrow. I held my breath.

  He nodded.

  My whole body relaxed as I let out the breath I was holding.

  A few minutes later, Dad focused on Eric. “So, what’s next for you? Planning to go back on tour?”

  I gaped. Since when did Dad know anything about Eric or his band?

  “A new album first,” Eric replied. He concealed his own surprise well but I could tell he was just as shocked that my dad was acknowledging his presence.

  “I have some new songs in the works,” Eric continued. “Another tour in a year or so.”

  “I should get that in writing,” Sam said.

  Adam snorted. “If it’s sooner than a year, there will be a mu
tiny.”

  “When you start the new tour, I hope you don’t plan too many stops.” Dad shifted in his chair, crossing one leg over the other. “I don’t like being away from my daughters for long, especially now that I have Ava back.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” Eric said while I tried not to faint.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  One year later

  School was out for the summer but I found myself busy with a temporary gig. Sitting on a piano bench inside the Saddledome, my fingers pounded out notes at a feverish pace. The arena, nestled in downtown Calgary, Alberta, was packed with twenty thousand fans, all screaming for one man and his band. Calgary was one of many stops on The Eric Wentworth Band’s sold out Sway Tour, and Eric had just finished singing “Cry Me a River,” a song that still made me cringe.

  “You guys are the best!” Eric shouted into the mic. “Calgary sure knows how to make a guy feel welcome!” The crowd roared in approval.

  His voice quieted to a normal level. “I have the best fans in the world. It’s because of you that our third album, Sway, has made it to number one!”

  The crowd screamed some more. I flipped the pages of my sheet music to the next song.

  “You may not know it, but ‘Sway’ is a song close to my heart.” His smile was magnified on the large screen behind him. I watched Eric enchant the audience like he enchanted me every day.

  “Okay, I’ll admit it, a lot of songs feel close to my heart.” He laughed sheepishly. “But this one…”

  I’d heard him talk about the song before in other tour stops. Each time his speech changed a little. Each time I felt a thrill at his words and my heart would pound in my chest as if it was the first time.

  He rubbed the back of his head with one hand. “This song is an apology, but it’s more than that. It’s me, begging and pleading with the woman I never stopped loving after more than eight years apart, to take me back.”

  More screams.

  “And can you believe it? She did!” Behind him, Adam blared out a dum-da-da-duuuhhhh on his trumpet. There was a collective laugh in the arena. “I know,” Eric said with a grin. “Do you want to meet her?”

  Oh no. I slumped on the bench, hoping somehow to disappear. He’d never done this to me before. What was he thinking?

  Eric turned around. He motioned with one hand, his other still gripped around the mic. “Come on.”

  The spotlight trained on me just in time for the crowd to see me shaking my head.

  “Ahhh, I think she needs some encouragement, folks.”

  The roar of the crowd intensified. As if that wasn’t loud enough, Eric raised his hands in the air a few times and the noise level increased by a thousand decibels.

  I slowly stood from the bench and adjusted my black dress.

  “There’s my girl.” I joined Eric center stage and he wrapped one arm around me. “This is Ava Elliot, temporary piano player, forever muse.”

  I stared at him instead of the audience. He lifted the mic off the stand and turned to face me.

  “Ava, there is no woman in the world equal to you. None as beautiful, as intelligent, as talented, as poised, as elegant. And none as madly in love with me as you.”

  I laughed while the crowd roared. I would’ve bet good money that most of the women in the audience were screaming their disagreement.

  “From the moment I walked into music class in tenth grade and you looked at me from the piano bench… This is gonna sound cheesy, but I knew. I knew my crappy life was about to change.” He reached one hand up and stroked my face. “I knew you would save me.”

  I hadn’t saved him. Without me, he would have saved himself. But maybe I lifted him out of the darkness a bit, the way he did for me.

  “I decided right then, you had to be mine. Forever.”

  My heart pounded in my chest so loud I hardly heard the crowd screaming through the arena.

  Eric’s hand moved from my face, down my arm, to my hand. He clasped my hand in his. He dropped down on one knee.

  The roar of the crowd faded as I became woozy.

  He pulled something out of his pocket. A blue sapphire ring surrounded by diamonds. He lowered the mic and said so only I could hear, “I believe this belongs to you?”

  I grasped his hand tighter. Butterflies beat inside my stomach and my skin tingled, hot and sweet.

  He put the mic back to his lips. “I love you, even more than I did back then. You are the music that fills my soul. The music that allows me to breathe. The music of my life.” Eric’s ocean blue eyes sparkled under the stage lights. “So what do you say? Will you be mine, forever?”

  A smile stretched my cheeks.

  “Marry me?” The crowd roared.

  I didn’t hesitate. “Yes!”

  His eyes twinkled. “I don’t think they heard you.” He put the mic to my lips.

  “YES!”

  He slipped the ring on my trembling finger. The mic fell to the floor with a bang as Eric rose from his knees and swept me into a crushing hug, spinning me around the stage, my feet off the floor. He put me down and then entwined his lips with mine. I pressed my body against his, forgetting about the twenty thousand strangers watching me make out with my fiancé.

  The kiss had to end eventually. I didn’t want it to, but then it didn’t matter either. Because we had a lifetime ahead of us. And this time, no one could sway me, not even myself. He and I were exactly where we were meant to be.

  Acknowledgements

  It would be ridiculous of me not to thank Jane Austen for writing a book I really got, and the 2007 movie adaptation, which inspired me to write the book in the first place, to Rupert Penry-Jones who was the face of my Eric, and to Michael Buble who was his voice.

  To all the people who made this book better than I could’ve made it on my own: Emily Stanford, Michelle Merrill, RuthAnne Frost, Amanda Hannah, Dahlia Adler, Prerna Pickett, Lindsey Frydman, and LeighAnn Kopans. And to my editor Noah Chinn, who took the book to a whole other level and brought the funny while he was at it.

  A big thank you to Gabrielle Prendergast for designing a cover that I want to smoosh every time I see it. To the entire team at Samhain for believing in my book and making it a real thing.

  I can’t forget the wonderful group Querying Authors, for all of their support, advice, and vast knowledge. The same to the ladies of VioletTendencies for welcoming me into their group and answering all my questions.

  Last but definitely not least: to my family for never doubting that I could do it. And especially to Jeff, Jade, Logan, Kori, and Avery for allowing me the time to follow my dream. Hugs on the page, because you know I’m not good at them in real life.

  About the Author

  Melanie Stanford reads too much, plays music too loud, is sometimes dancing, and always daydreaming. She would also like her very own TARDIS, but only to travel to the past. She lives outside Calgary, Alberta, Canada with her husband, four kids, and ridiculous amounts of snow. SWAY is her first novel. You can find her at www.melaniestanfordbooks.com, on Twitter @MelMStanford and on Facebook @MelanieStanfordauthor.

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  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.