Maybe (27 page)

I’m blushing at his praise. He puts the guitar on the floor and leans in to the camera. “I’m coming home.”

“Do you think you can handle going back in time? You’ll be here yesterday.” Seventeen hours feels like an eternity.

“I don’t care. I’m coming home.”

The big breakdown came in Munich. He was hysterical and couldn’t go on. He begged me to come, and though I’d just started my job, I went. He paid for the flight and was holed up in a hotel room while Hollis and the rest of the band waited for him to get it together.

They were getting bigger. The crowds were larger, and there were cameras everywhere when they stepped outside. It was everything he ever wanted but an anxious nightmare at the same time.

I spent two days there and assured him that he would make it. We held each other. We slept. I kissed him fiercely, and we made love. And when I fell asleep, he was still awake, humming softly and trailing his fingers across my back and hips while bringing me to the edge with his hypnotic lullaby.

The next morning, I awoke to the acrid smell of permanent marker and Tyler sleeping on my stomach, curled into a fetal position across me in spite of the bed being big enough for him to have room. I woke him up with kisses along his scalp, and he clutched me tighter before sitting straight up in a panic.

“Ah, shit. Sorry.”

I looked at him for an explanation, but he offered none.

“Why do you look guilty?”

He grimaced and rolled out of bed, pulling me out with him. Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, he turned me to my side. My breath left my body when my eyes ran quickly across the expanse of marker that littered my back, from my shoulders down to my hips. “What the hell? Did you write a symphony?”

He looked embarrassed and explained that being apart had made the notes dam up. When I was sleeping, they had exploded with such force that he had to get it out. I was the closest available notepad, apparently.

It hadn’t come off for over a week, and when I got back to Austin, I made it permanent.

I can’t wait to show him.

Renting the apartment was an easy decision. He came with me and liked it, so we went with it. His furniture came out of storage, and surprisingly, my mom flew in to help me move. It was the first time since my father died that she had boarded a plane, and it meant a lot to me.

It meant a lot to her, too, because when she met Tyler, she got this sly look in her eye and pulled me to the side to say he reminded her of my dad in a lot of ways. And would he be coming for Thanksgiving?

He would. He promised.

Anything else I bought, he and I chose together. If this was going to be our place, then we’d make it exactly that.

I have very little time before he’s supposed to walk through the door, and I’m rushing in with Chinese take-out with enough minutes to spare to take a quick shower. I’m more nervous to see him now than I was that night in New York.

My heart is hammering in my chest while I wait at the kitchen table for him to arrive. My fingernails are almost gone.

I wait.

And wait.

Just when I’m getting antsy enough to call him, there’s a light knock on the door. I suddenly realize I’ve locked it, and he doesn’t have a key yet.

With shaky hands, I turn the lock. I take a steadying breath and open the door to the most exquisite pair of dark blue eyes. Tyler is standing in the breezeway with bags at his feet and one slung over his shoulder, trepidation and excitement passing across his face.

“Hi,” I say softly, finally finding my voice.

“Hi.”

We stand looking at each other for what feel like five minutes.

“Are you going to invite me in?” he whispers.

“Yes! Oh God, Mace. I-I . . .” My chin quivers, and I lunge at him. “This is so weird.”

He nods into my hair, and I feel his carry-on fall to the floor next to our feet. He tightens his grip around me, and I shiver at his touch, my eyes closing at the smell of him and the reality of his body against mine.

“You’re really here.”

His chuckle is low and deep, causing his chest to vibrate.

I lift my head to look at his face, and he’s smiling down at me with amusement. With a lift of my toes, I pull myself up to catch his lips in a kiss, and the butterflies explode a thousand times over in my belly. I don’t even know I’m crying until he whispers ‘shh’ against my forehead.

I take a step back and wipe my face. “Come in. I’ll help you with your bags.”

His brows furrow, and then he purses his lips. “That sounds like my line.”

“No. Your line was ‘I like your shirt.’ ” I’m staring at the one he’s wearing that says I’M A BIG DEAL (IN JAPAN). “I actually do like it. Maybe I’ll steal it.”

I hit his arm playfully and grab a couple of the lighter bags, taking them straight through the apartment and into the bedroom. When I turn around in the doorway, he’s standing still as stone in the living room.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“I guess I didn’t expect it to feel like home so fast. This is really . . . our . . . apartment. Mine and yours.”

“Yeah, it is. Do you want to look around at the new stuff?”

He shrugs, and I walk back out to take his hand. I lead him through the living room and around to the open corner that’s surrounded by windows, where his little piano is set up. I show him the office. When we walk into the bedroom, his eyes light up, and he lets out a long breath.

“So you like it?” I run my hand over the thick down comforter.

“You got the one I liked.”

With the best sultry voice I can muster, I reply, “I know.”

His eyes find mine again. “Is there dinner? I’m starving.”

“Go take a shower and clean up. I’ll have everything plated by the time you get done.”

He mumbles an agreement and walks sluggishly back to the bathroom. His jet lag seems to be setting in, and I wonder if I’m moving too fast for him. Maybe he should sleep first.

He emerges from the shower in only his jeans, barefoot and glistening with rogue droplets of water that are falling from his hair. I watch him take in the scene and raise his eyebrows. “What is this?”

“This,” I say while I pretend to present him with a fine meal, “is our first dinner together in our apartment. You know I don’t cook, and I’m pretty much the laziest person in the world. So welcome home. Here’s some Chinese food.”

He looks at me with the sweetest face. “Home.”

I take the seat opposite him, and we eat quietly, trying to adjust to being with each other again. When we’re done, I clear the table and instruct him to take a seat on the couch, which he does, looking utterly exhausted.

“We can just go to sleep if you want.”

His head snaps up, and he yawns. “No way.”

I proceed with my plan and walk around the couch to bend and retrieve the gift I have for him. “Here,” I say proudly and hand it over.

He takes the large frame in his hands and flips it over, a look of wonder washing over his tired features. “Wow.”

“I’ve worked on it for the past few months, but I think I got all the important stuff.”

It is my map. Each place we’ve been together is marked with a tiny pin, and concert tickets or pictures are tacked on. The two of us in Austin. The band in front of the bus. My portion of the tour.

His fingers run reverently over it while he scans each item with intensity. When his eyes find the center of Texas, his stare fixates on the picture he stole of the two of us, and he lets out a laugh. “You stole it back.”

With the pins spread out and overlapping, there is something very distinctive about the pictures. I can see the change that had happened between us. It is in the way we smile, our eyes and lips. If someone were to compare the first picture to the last one, we wouldn’t even look like the same people.

Tyler puts it down and glances my way. “That’s probably the nicest thing anyone has done for me. You ruined your map.”

“I didn’t ruin it. It’s perfect now. You deserve it. I really missed you.”

His lips are on mine instantly, hands cradling my face and chest pushing me back onto the couch cushions. My hands rest in his hair, pulling softly through the damp strands. His kisses are insistent and needy, and I return them because I feel it, too.

“I missed you.” His tongue slides into my mouth, and I accept, taunting his slowly until he moves against me with more confidence. He grips my hips as his knees settle in between my thighs, and he trails his fingers up my sides and under my shirt. “There it is,” he says when his fingers graze over my skin. “Holy shit.” His voice catches, and he closes his eyes to take a breath. “Just touching you is making me want to explode.”

“Then don’t stop.” He’s holding back, and I’m worried.

He shakes his head. “Not on the couch.”

I smile at his reasoning and push against him slightly. “Okay.”

“What?”

“Scootch.”

He gives me a look that says I’m crazy and rises up to let me slide out from underneath him. I turn my back and start walking slowly toward the bedroom. Right before I turn the corner, I pull my shirt over my head and drop it to the floor, covering my breasts with one arm and glancing over my shoulder.

He comes running, and my heart races at the sound of his feet hitting the hardwood floor.

“Turn around.”

I pull my hair into one hand and turn slowly when he approaches and touches a finger to my hip.

“When?”

“After Munich,” I say softly. I close my eyes while his fingers trace his notes across my hip and follow the path around the front and over the top of my panties.

“It goes farther?” He raises a brow, and I release my hair with a coy smile.

“I guess you’ll have to find out.”

Tyler’s fingers dip into the panties and roll them down my legs until I’m standing completely naked before him. He drops to his knees and runs his nose across my pelvis. “I can’t believe you did this.”

“Really? I think you mentioned it first.”

His arms encircle my waist, and he lifts me, placing me gently on the bed. I kiss him, working diligently to get his jeans off. When he’s naked, he settles his entire body onto mine, matching skin for skin, heartbeat for heartbeat. I pull him in for another slow kiss and wrap my legs around him to let him know I’m ready. It has been too long.

“I want you. In our bed.”

“My pleasure,” he replies, that cocky grin of his playing along his lips when he nudges himself inside me.

He moves slowly out and back in, his breathing slow and deep while he grips my thighs and rolls us over so that I’m straddling him. His thumb rests over the clef note, and he lets out a soft moan.

I rest my hands on his thighs, and he lifts one of his palms to my aching and neglected nipples. The other hand slides down the front of my hip to my clit, and he strokes the nerves there until I can’t take any more. I come, calling his name while I’m trembling above him.

Tyler’s eyes are wide while he watches me come down, and then he pulls my chest to his so that my face rests in the crook of his neck. His hands trail down my spine and come to rest at the base, and his breathing picks up while he presses deep inside me. He gasps for air and clutches harder while he pulses and then stills. I hold him until his body finally relaxes and he lets out a long, satisfied breath.

“Welcome home,” I whisper in his ear and feel his cheek lift in a smile. “You’re tired.”

His eyelids flutter closed, and he stifles a yawn. “Not yet.”

“You don’t have to lie to me.” Moving slowly, I go to the bathroom to clean myself up and then bring him a glass of water. He shakes his head and laughs while we drink side by side in the bed.

Tyler excuses himself, and I settle under the covers, watching him in our bathroom. He’s comfortable here with me. When he comes back into the room, he grabs his jeans and rummages around his pockets.

I hear him get into the bed behind me, and his arm snakes across my chest. I feel his fingers slide into mine . . . and then something slides onto my ring finger.

I sit up quickly, blinking in the dim light at the diamond that now sits there.