by Lili Valente
So call this off, crazy. Stop trying to get pregnant before it’s too late.
But it might already be too late—sperm can live inside a woman for as long as five days, and I’m due to ovulate any second now—and I don’t want to stop.
I want Zack’s baby.
I want Zack in every way I can have him for as long as I can have him, even if it’s only for another day or two.
“I’ll call Theo,” I finally whisper, “and ask her to pick me up on Saturday. That gives us two more nights, but you’ll still have an entire week to write new songs without being distracted.”
Pain flashes behind his eyes. “Is that what you want?”
“I want your solo career to be wildly successful, and I’m willing to do whatever it takes to support that.” I force a smile. “Besides, I should probably get home and focus on the job hunt. I have money in savings, but more than a few months without income will make things tight.”
He tips his head forward, sending his hair sliding into his eyes, shielding his expression as he says, “All right. But let’s make the most of the time we have left.”
“Heck, yes, we will,” I say, ignoring the tightness in my chest.
This is for the best. And two nights is a long time. We can still make tons of new memories in two nights.
As if reading my mind, Zack sweeps me into his arms, making me laugh as I hook my elbow over his shoulder “What’s this for?”
“I’m taking you into protective custody,” he says.
“Protective custody?”
“From the snakes.” He starts across the grass toward the highest point in the orchard, a rise with a killer view of the surrounding mountains.
“Right. The snakes,” I say, my breath rushing out. “You made me forget about snakes.” My lips quirk into a wry grin. “Until you reminded me, of course.”
“Don’t worry,” he says softly. “I’ll make you forget again.”
And after we spread out our picnic blanket, he does, sliding his hand under my dress and into my panties, teasing me until I’m begging him to take me. So he does, both of us naked in the sunshine with the smell of warm apples and grass filling the air, making me feel like Eve before she was kicked out of the garden.
“If only she’d been more afraid of snakes,” I murmur as Zack and I lie side by side afterward, our fingers hooked together, catching our breath.
“What’s that?”
“Eve.” I roll my head to the left to catch his gaze. “If she’d been more afraid of snakes, maybe we’d still be in the Garden of Eden. Naked and unashamed.”
“I’m not ashamed,” he whispers, making my stomach flip.
“Me, either.”
“And I don’t really believe in that stuff,” he says with a half-smile. “I think we make our own heaven. Or our own hell. Right here on earth. Depending on how we decide to spend our time.”
I press my lips together, wanting to tell him that being with him feels like heaven. Better than heaven—paradise with more orgasms than my brief religious education during one of my mother’s recovery periods would have led me to believe.
But I can’t tell him that.
It will only make goodbye that much harder for us both.
So I simply squeeze his fingers tight before turning my gaze back to the trouble-free blue sky.
But it doesn’t look like a promise anymore.
It looks like a warning to make love while the sun shines because the rain is on its way.
Chapter Seventeen
Zack
After Colette and I get back to the house, I put away the leftovers while she changes into hiking clothes.
Then I pull out my cell and compose a text to Chip—
I’ll start working on some upbeat stuff next week, but I want at least four of the new songs on the album. This is who I am right now, and this is the kind of music I need to make. And if I need to make it, there are people out there who need to hear it.
From me.
Falling in love isn’t something to be ashamed of, and it shouldn’t be that hard to market. As someone reminded me today—every time I turn on the radio, men are singing about their feelings.
We can brainstorm marketing strategies if you want. I’ll come to your office in the city when I’m finished here, and we’ll figure out a way to make it work. It can be done and done well. No doubt in my mind.
Talk to you soon, once I’ve got a few new things to share.
I shoot off the text, drop my phone on the counter, and walk away.
I’ve made up my mind, and I don’t want to waste another minute of the time I have left with Colette arguing with my manager.
Either Chip can get on board with my new sound and be the advocate I need with the record company, or we can go our separate ways.
Life’s too short not to take chances.
I have a safety net to fall back on in the event Lady Luck decides she’s tired of smiling in my direction. But right now, it’s time to be true to the music. To myself. It’s time to say the things only I can say and write the songs only I can write.
That’s the reason I’m here—to bring my unique voice to the world.
And maybe, to love this woman…
I step into the living room just as Colette descends the final stair, sending her flowers-and-sunshine smell wafting through the room. She meets my gaze and smiles that big, beautiful smile that goes straight to my heart every time, and I know it’s true.
I was made to love her.
Hopefully, she’ll let me. Hopefully, I can convince her I’m worthy of her trust, and that if she takes a chance on us, I’ll make sure she never regrets it.
“Hike and then head into town for ice cream?” I ask, crossing to take her hand. “Or ice cream and then hike?”
“Hike and then ice cream,” she says, eyes dancing. “That way I won’t feel guilty about having three scoops.”
“Three?” I arch a playful brow.
“When it comes to ice cream, I’m shameless,” she says, pressing on her tiptoes to kiss my cheek. With her lips still warm on my skin, she adds in a softer voice, “And then we should hit the grocery store. I want to make you dinner tonight. Something special I only make for my very favorite people.”
I wrap an arm around her waist, hugging her close, my chest filling with a sweet, scary ache.
Sweet, because there’s nothing better than holding the person you love.
Scary, because I know there’s a good chance we won’t be able to make this work.
Colette is no dummy. She has to know the emotional songs I’ve been writing are about her. But instead of asking to hear them, she made plans to leave. Either she doesn’t feel the way I feel, or she doesn’t see a future for us for some other reason.
Maybe I’ll be able to change her mind.
Maybe I won’t.
Either way, I’m going to treasure every second of the time we have left.
Kissing the top of her head, I draw her closer until we’re chest to chest. I can feel her heart thudding against my ribs.
“Are you always hard?” she murmurs in a husky voice.
“No,” I say, smiling as I kiss her hair again. “Just whenever I’m touching you. You do things to me, Sunshine.”
“You do things to me, too.” She lifts her chin, her lust-filled gaze locking with mine, making me even harder. “Maybe we shouldn’t go out. Staying in can be fun, too…”
I shake my head. “Nope. You’re not getting any more of this until tomorrow. Once a day. You know the rules.”
Her bottom lip juts out. “I never should have told you about sperm count.”
“I’m glad you did.” I cup her ass in my hands, giving it a squeeze. “It turns me on, knowing I only get you once so I’d better make the most of it. Boundaries can be hot.”
She arches a skeptical brow. “Hmm…maybe you are too boring for rock ’n’ roll.”
I laugh and bite my lip. “Keep it up, woman, and I’ll show you bor
ing. With your hands tied to my headboard while you get that spanking you’ve been begging for.”
“Oh, yeah?” Her eyes glitter. “You promise?”
“Cross my heart.” I swat her bottom, making her laugh as we start for the door. But when we reach the foyer, I stop, remembering her shopping plans. “Just a second, let me grab some bags for the groceries before we head out.”
“Oh yeah, good thinking.” She takes her purse from the table by the door and slings it across her chest, pulling out her phone. “You get those, and I’ll call Nancy and tell her we don’t need her to cook for us tonight.”
“Perfect.” I jog into the kitchen, opening cabinets until I find a soft cotton tote small enough to wad up and shove in my pocket.
I’m about to head back to the door when my phone dings. I cross to the counter, glancing at the screen to see half a dozen text alerts from Chip, but I don’t read them.
Instead, I reach down and turn the phone off.
Colette’s my focus right now. The battle with Chip will still be here in two days; she won’t.
Unless I can change her mind.
I’m a nice guy, but I’m not afraid to play hardball when it comes to the things I want. And right now, there’s nothing I want more than this woman in my life.
For now and for the foreseeable future.
Chapter Eighteen
Zack
We decide to start our hike out of the backyard, wandering past Nancy and Jed’s cottage as we start toward town.
“Have fun!” Nancy waves from the vegetable garden, where she’s camped out on a tiny portable bench pulling weeds. “Call if you decide you want a ride back.”
I lift a hand, and Colette calls, “Thanks so much! Will do.”
As we disappear down the tree-lined path, moving into the cool shade, she adds in a whisper, “But I want to walk back if that’s okay with you. I want to walk a ridiculous number of miles.”
“I thought you said you were tired.” I peer down at her, searching her face.
“I did, and I am.” She shakes her head with a heavy sigh. “But if I’m going to be able to fall asleep without pouncing you tonight, I’m going to have to be really, really tired. Like a bone-deep level of exhaustion.”
“We can pounce all you want,” I say, my cock thickening for the twelfth time since this morning. This woman is turning me into a sex fiend, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. “I can’t come, but you can, and I insist you do. Preferably on my mouth while I’m playing with your—”
“Stop!” She reaches up, covering my lips with her hand. I nip at her fingers, making her laugh as she pulls them away. “I told you how I feel about coming without you. No. We’ll both be good and abstain. It’ll make tomorrow morning even better. Delayed satisfaction can be fun.”
“Isn’t that what you were just teasing me about?”
“No, you said boundaries could be fun. I don’t like boundaries.” She scrunches her nose. “Or possibly I just don’t like talking about them. My mom dated this guy named Chad when I was fourteen.” She rolls her eyes. “He was always talking about how important boundaries were, but only when it came to people inconveniencing him with their needs. Like if my mom needed a ride to the grocery store because her car was in the shop, he’d remind her that they weren’t dating exclusively and that taking her shopping infringed on his boundaries. Meanwhile, dating a woman he was supposed to be sponsoring through her recovery was fine. And of course, anytime he needed a favor, my mom was supposed to come running.”
“Sounds like an asshole,” I say.
“Totally.” Colette shrugs. “But all my mom’s boyfriends were assholes in one way or another. Growing up, I thought getting mixed up with a man was the stupidest thing a woman could do. As far as I could tell, it just made you a miserable, insecure wreck who couldn’t be trusted not to turn on your daughter when she clashed with your Dickhead of the Month.”
I hug her closer to my side. “I’m sorry about the dickheads. But I’m glad you decided to give guys a chance.”
“Once I was older, I realized my mom was the problem. Gram always said her chooser was broken.” She glances up at me. “How about you? Did you want to get married when you were a kid? Or have a serious relationship or whatever?”
“I didn’t think about it much,” I answer honestly. “I mean, I liked girls—really liked them,” I add, making her grin. “I wanted that kind of connection. But I’ve always been a ‘live in the moment’ type, even when I was young. I figured if the opportunity presented itself, I’d see where it went, but I wasn’t daydreaming about it or out hunting for it. Does that make sense?”
Her brow furrows. “It does.”
“But?” I prompt after a moment, sensing she has more to say.
“But I think the universe gives us what we’re looking for,” she says, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “And if you don’t make a conscious choice to move toward what you want, you’ll end up asking for something subconsciously, which can be dangerous. The subconscious shouldn’t be behind the wheel, you know? Especially unsupervised.”
I ponder that a moment, unsure of what to say. I’m embarrassed to admit that unless I’ve just woken up from a crazy dream or something, I don’t think much about my subconscious.
“I know it sounds kind of out there,” she adds, holding up a hand, “but think about it. Every day, we’re making choices that impact the rest of our lives. Those choices are informed by lots of things, but mostly, we tick along on autopilot. Habitual, unconscious behavior is the human default. I can’t remember the exact number, but only something like five or six percent of our choices involve conscious thought and willpower.”
I nod. “Yeah, I listened to a podcast about that. I remember the number sounded crazy at the time, but the research backed it up.”
Her expression brightens. “Right! So it’s super important we use what choice we have to move us closer to our goals. Whether that’s eating healthier meals or finding our dream job or looking for a partner who ticks all our boxes…whatever. If we don’t, then there’s a good chance we’ll end up with whatever or whoever randomly crosses our path, which is more of a crapshoot than I’m comfortable with.”
She shudders. “Or we’ll be like my mom and hook up with whoever seeks us out, and that can be downright scary. She attracted narcissists who preyed on vulnerable people like it was going out of style. And yeah, I know she had a lot working against her, but if she’d consciously looked for someone who would be a healthy fit, maybe she would have ended up with better men.”
“That makes a lot of sense, actually,” I say. “Colin used to do stuff like that when we were kids. He was always meditating on success and making vision boards, these big, elaborate collages of all the things he wanted to happen for the band.”
Colette points a victorious finger at my chest. “See! It works. Or at least it can work. I think you have to be realistic in what you wish for.”
“Why?” I ask, playing devil’s advocate. “Why limit yourself? Why not see how influential your willpower can be?”
She arches a brow. “Because I can’t fly? No matter how much I wish I had wings?”
“Maybe you can,” I challenge. “Figuratively. What would make you feel like you’re flying?”
“I don’t really want to fly; I get airsick. But…” She crosses her arms over her chest, lips pressing together. Finally, she shakes her head. “I don’t know what my unrealistic dream would be. I’ve always been a simple dreamer, I guess.”
“And what are your simple dreams?”
“I’d like to keep making money using my artistic side and help make positive changes in the word, but honestly…” She shoots a furtive gaze my way. “Well, neither of those is at the top of my list.”
“So what is?” I press.
She bites her lip. “It’s not very progressive of me, I know, but…I’ve always wanted the fairy tale, the thing women have wanted since the dawn of time. To find
a partner who makes me feel safe and loved and special, and to make a home with him where our kids feel the same way.”
“Now who’s being sexist?” I tease. “Don’t you think men want the same thing?”
“Um, no, I don’t,” she says, laughing. “I have yet to meet a man who doesn’t put his career first.” She bobs her head from side to side. “Okay, so that’s not totally true. I’ve met a few, but they put fun and friends first, not love or family. I think the dream of a happy nest above all else is usually a feminine dream.”
“You’re probably right,” I say. “But it’s a good dream. An important dream. Though, hearing you talk about it like that kind of makes me feel like an asshole.”
She blinks. “What? Why? You’re not an asshole. Not even a little bit.”
I stretch my neck to one side. “I don’t know. Maybe I am. I’ve always taken my grandparents and the amazing home they made for me growing up for granted. But thinking about it now…” I shrug. “None of my dreams would have had a shot in hell of becoming a reality without them.”
“That’s not true,” she says, before conceding, “but yeah, it would have been harder. Launching from solid ground is much easier than launching from a flaming dumpster being swept downstream in a flood.”
I grin. “That meme has resonated with me way too often lately.”
She nods, her eyes going wide. “Right? Every time I turn on the news this year, I feel so helpless.” She sighs, a troubled look tightening her features. “Sometimes, I wonder if it’s responsible to want to bring children into a world like this one, with so much suffering and danger in it.”
I stop, turning to face her on the trail. “Of course it is.”
Her brows pinch closer together. “You really think so?”
“I do. Children are hope. And that seems like exactly what the world needs right now. Lots of hope. Lots of compassion. Lots of people trying to love each other the best they can, even when they disagree.”
Her eyes begin to shine, and she blinks faster. “Where did you come from?”