Refrain (Soul Series Book 3) (7 page)

I swallow back emotion scorching the inside of my throat. I wondered why he took an extra day in New York. I pouted over him spending today of all days on his “appointments” instead of with me. I resented not having his full attention all the way here, and apparently . . . it was all for me. All to make this birthday this special.

“I can’t believe you did all this.” I hook my arms behind his neck, straining up and into him. “Thank you.”

He tightens his hands at my waist, easily lifting until my feet aren’t quite on the ground anymore.

“I wish every day was your birthday,” he whispers over my lips. “It’d give me an excuse to show you what you mean to me all the time.”

A man this closed off from most people, a man with so little reason to trust, opens himself to me every day and trusts me with everything he owns. Trusts me with his home and his heart. And yes, even though he may not be hearing wedding bells quite yet, he trusts me with his future. It overwhelms me, the privilege of his love. And even with Aunt Ruthie right behind me and dozens of eyes on us, I don’t even care. I wriggle closer to him, wind my fingers in the cool strands of his hair and capture his lips between mine. And it’s not a cute kiss. It’s ravishment, a battle waged with lips and teeth and tongue. As glad as I am to have all our friends here, I couldn’t care less if everyone else just walked right off into the glorious sunset and left me and this man to celebrate alone in each other’s arms.

He laughs against my lips, slowly dripping my body down the front of his until my stilettos touch the floor again.

“Damn, Pep.” His voice is husky and a small smile rests on lips faintly red with my lipstick. Lust lingers in his eyes. “Save some for later.”

I laugh a little self-consciously and wipe the lipstick from his mouth. I start to pull away, but Rhyson bends to whisper in my ear, holding me still in front of him.

“You might, uh, wanna just stand here for a second unless you want this boner poking Aunt Ruthie in the eye.”

I drop my head to his chest and giggle, but stand there obediently until he releases me to greet the people waiting to wish me a happy birthday.

It’s a beautiful night in every way. Candles and champagne flutes grace a long wooden table draped with linen. Steak and seafood and fresh vegetables and luscious fruit lay heavy on the plates at each seat. Lights wrap around the trees sprouting right up through the wooden deck floor, embracing the trunks and sprinkling through the leaves that canopy our celebration. I’m stuffed and happy, eating the delicious food, chatting and laughing with people as they come by where I sit with Rhyson, our hands linked under the table.

“Did you both know about this?” I split a look of mock censure between Bristol and Ella.

“Yes,” they answer in unison, laughing.

“I thought I would bust helping you get ready for tonight,” Ella admits. “When you called and asked me to come over, I just knew I wouldn’t be able to keep the secret all afternoon.”

“I never suspected.” I glance at Bristol. “And you never let on either.”

“We were sworn to secrecy under threat of death.” Bristol nods to Rhyson beside me. “He wouldn’t let me do anything. He wanted to handle everything himself. Good job, brother.”

Rhyson glances at me with a small smile and then away.

“And you’re the worst at keeping secrets, San.” I punch him in the shoulder, seated beside me. “I can’t believe you never let on. Were you ever even in Turks?”

“Yeah.” San takes a sip of his white wine. “Gotta be back tomorrow. Rhyson flew me in just for the night.”

“For the night?” I turn a surprised glance to Rhyson. “Just for my birthday? Wow.”

“Did you save room for cake?” Rhyson doesn’t acknowledge his extravagance.

A server carrying a multi-tiered pink and white cake lit with sparkler candles walks out onto the deck. Everyone starts singing “Happy Birthday” right on cue. The whole scene—the starry sky, the illuminated trees, the crescendo of crashing waves, the crowd of eager faces—grows blurry through new tears. It’s just so much and so perfect.

“Blow out the candles!”

Though my chest feels tight, I draw in what I hope is enough breath to extinguish all these candles. My lips are puckered and poised, when Rhyson presses a staying hand to my shoulder.

“Don’t forget to make a wish.” He kisses my forehead softly and then nods to the cake.

I must be a selfish, hard-to-please girl. With all of this tonight, with every dream I ever had for my career becoming a reality, with all of these people who care about me, I shouldn’t want another thing. But there is a wish that hides in my heart. I conceal it. I tell it to wait. Most days, I pretend it isn’t there. But today, when I’m given permission to hope, to pray, to dream, to
wish
—I do. I draw the force of that buried wish up from my belly, through my chest and blow as hard as I can until every candle goes dark.

Just in case wishes come true.

I’m polishing off my mammoth slice of white chocolate cake when Rhyson touches my wrist lightly to get my attention.

“I think cake is your weakness. I seem to remember you devouring it once before.”

Something wicked kindles in his eyes. It takes a moment before I remember the last time he saw me stuffing my face with cake. At Grady and Em’s wedding. It was my first time seeing him since our fight over the
Total Package
fiasco. I can almost smell the hay in that loft where he laid me down and eased my dress up. Can almost feel his hands caressing behind my knees and his fingers incinerating the sensitive skin inside my thighs. The memory of his tongue licking hungrily into my pussy and the way his moans vibrated against my clit enflames my cheeks.

“You tasted better than the cake,” he whispers, brushing his thumb secretly, subtly over my nipple. “If I think about it long enough, I still taste you in my mouth.”

“Rhyson!” I hiss, glancing around at everyone around us who seems occupied with their cake and conversations.

“I can’t wait to get you home and out of this dress so I can taste you again.” His words waft over my flushed skin like steam. “It’s all I’ve thought about since you walked down those stairs.”

I nod numbly, not even trying to deny that I want it too. I need it too. His words, the hot looks, the covert touches have all aroused a fire in me hot enough to ignite the tiny thong I’m wearing.

“Wanna dance?” He extends his hand casually like he wasn’t just seducing me with his suggestions. Like he asks me this every day.

“With who?” I shove aside my lust with a little laugh at my own joke. “You don’t dance, remember? And besides, there’s no . . .”

I trail off as music starts lightly piping in through the hidden speakers. Rhyson stands up and extends his hand to me, waiting. I can’t tell if he’s just resigned or eager or what, but something weird is going on with his face. He hates dancing. We never dance together, and he obviously looks forward to the prospect about as much as a colonoscopy. So why would he even ask?

“We don’t have to, Rhys. Really.”

“No, I want to.” He takes the choice away and tugs me to the center of the patio. “Don’t get used to this. It’s a one-time offer.”

“Well, I’ll take it.” I lay my head on his chest, stiffening a little when I realize we’re the only ones on the floor. “Rhys, no one else is dancing.”

“That’s because it’s our night.” His lips move against my hair.

I’m processing that when the music playing penetrates my senses.

“Is that ‘Lost’?” I grin up at him and link my fingers behind his neck. “They’re playing our song.”

“One of them, yeah.” He grins a little, but that look is back, the weird one, before he masks it with the self-assured expression I’ve grown used to. “When you first told me this was your favorite song from my album, it solidified what I already knew.”

I can vividly recall our conversation in his car the first time we hung out. We talked about “Lost,” the song that was like a light in a dark forest when I had to stay behind in Glory Falls and take care of Mama.

“And what did you already know?” I tease him with a smile, reaching up to curl my fingers in his hair.

“That you were special.” His eyes don’t tease me back. There’s a warm sobriety there that melts the smile from my face. “I think on some level, I knew even then we were supposed to be together. Hell, I think I knew that the first time I saw you and we hadn’t even spoken one word.”

“Love at first sight, huh?” I try to make my tone light again, but this moment gets weightier and weightier the longer he stares back at me.

“Not love. Not at first.” He shakes his head and links our hands on his chest. “But a recognition of sorts. I think my soul knew you before I did. Knew you were the one I should spend the rest of my life with. Getting to know you, becoming your friend, only convinced me of what I think my heart and my soul already knew.”

“And what’s that?” I ask, my voice raspy with the emotion this conversation evokes.

“That you’re mine and I’m yours.” His smile is so tender and warm that it burns away the periphery until I don’t see anyone else; don’t even care anymore that we are the only ones in the center of the patio dancing.

“This morning you so thoughtfully relieved me of any pressure to make things . . . shall we say ‘official’ between us.” His hand slides down and tightens at my hip, slowing the swaying of our bodies until we’re standing still. “And I told you I felt no pressure to make you my wife because to me you already are.”

“I know. It’s fine, Rhyson. Like I said, there’s a lot going on. You don’t have to explain. I’m fine the way we are, baby.”

“But I’m not.” He presses his forehead to mine, splaying his palms across my back to inch me closer until there’s nothing between us but a breath of balmy summer air. “I want the whole world to know we’re together forever. To know when they see me, they see you. To know that what’s mine belongs to you. That
I’m
yours. To know that our lives are linked till death do us part. And even beyond that.”

I don’t know what he’s saying. Or why he’s saying it now. Here. I spare a quick glance around the deck, a little embarrassed to see that most people have stopped talking and are watching us closely.

“I want them to know tonight.” He steps back just a little and then drops in front of me. “I want
you
to know tonight.”

My legs liquefy and my head swims seeing him down on one knee. This moment, the one I wished for when I blew out my candles but didn’t think would come this soon or this way, sucks all the air from my chest like a vacuum. I must sway a little because he steadies me at my waist with one strong hand. I look down at his face, the one I wasn’t even sure was handsome at first, but now is so beautiful to me I can’t imagine waking up with anyone else for the rest of my days. He stares back at me with such love that the next words out of his mouth are almost unnecessary because his eyes are already asking me the question and my heart has already answered.

“Kai, would you do me the honor of becoming something I wasn’t even sure I would ever want?” A slow, certain smile curves his full lips. “My wife. Will you marry me?”

And as much as my heart utters yes. As much as my body screams its agreement. As much as my soul says amen, I can’t get the word out. It’s stuck in my throat. Trapped by emotion and the enormity of all my wishes convening in this one man and coming impossibly true.

“I know this isn’t how you probably thought it would happen,” he rushes to say. “I mean with all these people watching, but the whole world got to witness the lowest point in our relationship. On that video they got to see that fight, the day I almost ruined everything. I wanted the whole world to see this too. To see that I choose you. There’s no one else for me. Only you, Pep.”

My eyes wander around the circle of people watching. San, who stood with me by my mother’s grave and convinced me to come to LA, wears a satisfied smile. Ella is wiping tears from her cheeks. Bristol looks suspiciously bright-eyed. Grip wears the biggest “that’s my boy” grin. Grady looks . . . proud. The proudest I’ve ever seen him. Aunt Ruthie’s small smile widens when I meet her eyes.

“How long you gonna keep that man on his knees, Kai Anne?” Aunt Ruthie yells with hands cupped around her lips, soliciting laughter from everyone standing around waiting for my response.

A shaky laugh slips past my lips, and I swipe at the tears trickling over my own cheeks. When I look back to Rhyson he doesn’t look worried about the wait. His eyes hold the complete confidence of a man who is about to be told yes, today and for the rest of his life. Of a man whose soul is so completely tangled around mine, that I’m sure his heart already hears my response. He’s right. In so many ways, this is just a formality acknowledging something to the world that we’ve known for a long time. I’m his and he’s mine. We don’t need a ceremony to confirm that, but when I notice for the first time that he’s holding a ring, I physically feel my jaw coming unhinged. It’s so gorgeous and so perfect. The square-cut sapphire ring, orbited by diamonds of such purity, steals my breath. I don’t know carats or cuts. I have no idea how much it costs, but I do know, as I extend my hand and he slides the glorious thing home on my finger, that I will wear it until I die.

“You still haven’t said yes.” Rhyson kisses the ring on my finger, his eyes amused, but drenched with emotion.

I can’t stand it another second. Everything that was shocked into silence, every trapped breath, every frozen tear, breaks free all at once. And I’m laughing. I’m hyperventilating. I’m crying. I’m sliding down to my knees on the wooden floor with him, tight dress and high heels and all, hooking my arms behind his neck and laying my temple against his chin.

“Yes, Rhyson.”

I look up at him and don’t even try to wipe the tears away anymore because this is the most singularly spectacular moment of my life. No number one album, no Grammy, no tour, nothing will ever come close to the day he invited me to spend the rest of my life with him. I tuck my head into the scent, the warmth of his neck.

“God, yes. Of course yes.”