“Yeah,youkind of are, but thanks,” he said with a jokinggrin. “Maybe we can go out sometime and celebrate with you guys, even thoughit’s been a month or whatever.”
“Hellyeah,” I said, and I glanced at the shop. “Well, if she’ll want to be anywherenear me.”
Brookeglared at me. “Knock it off, Dev. You’re golden. Just don’t try to impress anymore douchebag rock stars.”
“So,you guys heard about that,” I said with a wince and a squeeze of the back of myneck.
Trentgrunted. “Oh yeah, we did.”
“Ideserve that,” I said with a shrug, and my eyes caught hold of a flash ofpurple.All ofthose shimmering violets and indigos.PurpleMountain’s Majesty. I watched her box up the pastries and thought, that’sthe type of girl you settle into. The type of girl you spend hours talking toand serenading under the stars. The type of girl you propose to the firstmoment you see her, out of fear of someone getting to her first.
Nobodyelse was going to get to her. Never again.
Trentshoved against my shoulder. “Are you justgonnastareat her all night, or what?”
Igrabbed the handle of the door and I shook my head.
“Youknow,” I told them as I got out of the truck, “I think I’ve wasted enough timealready.”
CHAPTER FORTY
Kylie
The night I metDevin O’Leary, he saved me froman arrogant guy who couldn’t take no for an answer. Then he sang to me underthe Connecticut sky at the frat party neither of us wanted to be at.
Hesaved me so many times over the years. From myself and from the cruelty offate. From douchebags and from losing my dreams. He was my knight inspackle-stained armor, wielding his guitar, because every story has a hero. Andhe was mine.
Still,I didn’t expect to hear that song—“Not Myself” by JohnMayer—strumming through the quiet of the coffee shop, on that Wednesday when heshould’ve been on his way to Texas. For a second, behind the door of the storeroom, I wondered if it was him at all. But who else could it have been? Whoelse would’ve known to playthatsong, the very first he ever played forme?
So,with the hope that I was right, I pushed through the door. Eyes closed, afraidto open them and find I was wrong.
Butthen, there were the lyrics and his voice, and my eyes opened to daisies andDevin.
Thebouquet was on the table right in front of the stage, and with little help frommy wobbling knees, I walked slowly to sit in one of the mismatched chairs.Coming so close, I could smell him. Not his pillow, not the t-shirt I slept in,buthim. And I took a deep breath as I sat down.
Ilistened to him sing the lyrics that made no sense when he first sang them tome on the curb all those many years ago, but now, they fit. As though he knewthen, where time would take us and that one day those lyrics would meaneverything. That he’d one dayhave toask if I’d wanthim when he wasn’t quite himself, and if I wasn’t fighting so hard to keep myshit together, I would’ve cut him off to give him a resounding yes.
Witha downward strum over the strings of his vintage Gibson, I clapped, unable tojump to my feet as I normally would, and he said into the microphone, “Thankyou, Connecticut. You know, once upon a time, I finished that little ditty offwith a rousing chorus of ‘Bigger Than My Body,’ but I have since found, that mybody is plenty big enough, so …”
Ilaughed, breaking my composure and held a hand to my mouth. As if I had anyshot at keeping myself from drowning in a blubbery mess.
“So,instead, I have this other song I wrote while sitting on my hotel bed, waitingfor my cab to come and take me to the airport. It’s a little rough, I’ve neverplayed it before, but you seem like the kind of audience I can experiment with…” He winked, and I sobbed around a watery giggle. “Anyway, it’s a work inprogress, so don’t laugh too much.”
Hecleared his throat and bowed his head over the guitar as he strummed a slowtune that sounded the way love felt. It reached my heart and then my ears, andmy hand remained over my mouth as he played those chords.
Thisbed was made for promises,
Thisbed was made for you.
ButI’ve blown your heart to pieces,
Andyou’ve cut me down to pieces,
Butmaybe together we can save it,
Letthis be the glue.
And Iknow,
