I’m not about to do any of those things.
I’m not even going to argue. Or deny it. I’m just going to tell her the truth.
“I’m waiting for you.” I lean down to kiss the top of her head before I start walking again, guiding her along as I do. “And not at a distance either,” I go on. “You try pushing me away all you like. It’s not going to work.”
“Why?” she demands. “Why me? Why?
“Are you asking me why because you need to hear it to talk down whatever mean girl lies your brain is spewing right now in an attempt to keep you from getting hurt or because you really don’t know?” I know about that inner mean girl shit. And I know about the assholes who come along and know how to turn that voice up by a hundred. Saw it happen with my own sister. She was just in high school then, and it’s been twenty years since, but she still has moments where she wages war against the inner dialogue he left in his wake.
“I just need to know.” The fight is waning from her voice.
I stop again. This time, I turn myself toward her. I can already tell it’s going to be an ongoing balancing act for a while, choosing when to be assertive to make her feel secure and when to give her the space to back up and let me come after her. “I don’t know why,” I tell her as honestly as I can. “I just know that something switched on inside me the second I heard you telling off that chick about misinterpreting my song. Which is about the beauty of each new town, by the way, and not about hooking up. Which I’ve done plenty of as well, but which this song is not about.”
“I’m not feeling better about this,” she mutters, looking up at me sternly.
I grin. “Yeah, you are. Because the longer I go on about any of this, the more you’re getting out of your head. And your head isn’t going to tell you anything important right now. Hell, my head has been listing off reasons I should be halfway to Tennessee by now ever since I told you I was meeting you for pancakes. But I’ve been ignoring my head. Because my goddamn heart is screaming a hell of a lot louder. But it doesn’t use any fucking words. Just keeps pumping this feeling through me.”
“What kind of a feeling?” she whispers, and finally, in her eyes, I can see it. Without a doubt. She feels it too.
KENLEY
Goddamn, the man gives a good speech. I’m desperately hoping he delivers another. Just one little push, and I’ll believe it’s all possible. Him. Me. The feeling I’ve had in the pit of my stomach since the first time I heard one of his songs. Like he mattered. Not because of his music or his talent or any of the Knox Marley rock star bullshit. He just mattered. To me. Inexplicably.
When the silence between us drags on, I scramble for my own words, my own speech to convince him to answer.
Then, just as I’m about to open my mouth and blurt out whatever comes, he responds.
And it’s not at all what I expected.
His free hand reaches up to gently cup my cheek before it runs through my hair and curls around the back of my neck, drawing me to him. Within seconds, his lips are crushing mine and I’m swept up in a kiss I may never recover from.
“Next question,” he breathes against my lips, only allowing just enough distance between us to break the kiss.
“Are you capable of doing this?” I whisper. “Tell me honestly, are you capable of having something real with a boring forty-something single mom who keeps a garden and enjoys a cross-stitch project before bed?”
“You like to cross-stich?” He smiles and it lights up his eyes in the most adorable way.
“I do. Now answer mine.”
His hand slides from mine and his arm wraps around my waist. Being held by him feels safer than it should. “The hooking up plenty was in my twenties and early thirties.” He chuckles softly. “You’re not the only one in your forties here, remember? I’m a grown-ass man. I want grown-ass man things. Like a single mom who gardens and enjoys a cross-stitch project before bed.” He tips his forehead to mine. “But you sure as shit aren’t boring. So, the answer is yes, I’m capable of doing this. I’ve been capable for a long time. Contrary to public opinion, that’s not been the issue. Just didn’t have someone I wanted to do it with.” He twists his mouth back and forth before he adds, “I know a little something about being that novelty item myself. So, I guess I need to ask you too. Are you capable of seeing me beyond the Knox Marley persona?”
I don’t answer right away. Not because I don’t know the answer, but because I want to make sure I say it right. “When Arizona first wanted me to go get in line for the meet and greet, my instinct was to bolt. Just get the hell out of there. The idea of standing face to face withKnox Marleyscared the shit out of me. But then, the second I saw your face on my phone screen, I sawyou. I heardyou. I feltyou. And there wasn’t anything scary about it. Then you told me you were coming outside to see me, and I was thrilled. Until you hung up, and I thought, holy shit, Knox Marley is coming out here to see me. But then, there you were and being with you felt completely natural.” I smile, thinking about those first moments between us. It’s still surreal. Not because of who he is, but because of howwe– me and him together - felt. “But then after you asked me for my numberand went back inside, all I could think was, Knox Marley just asked for my number! It sounded insane inside my own head. And then again, out loud when I told Arizona.” I close my eyes, formulating the final piece of my answer. “I guess my point is, if all I could see was Knox Marleythe persona, then all I would be able to see is how crazy this is. Because Knox Marley the persona, isn’t real. And therefore, anything happening between me and him, isn’t real either.” I shake my head. “I’m a sucker for fairy tales and devour cheesy chick flicks every weekend, Knox, and evenIcouldn’t sell myself on an insta-love between a single mom and a rock star. But two strangers meeting and feeling an instant, undeniable connection? That’s a story I’ve believed in since I first saw Cinderella and fell in love with love to begin with.”
“You didn’t have an issue with the prince and the orphaned maid falling instantly in love, but you get hung up on the mom and rock star thing?” he teases.
“She didn’t know he was a prince. And he didn’t know she wasn’t a princess. They didn’t fall for each other’s personas. They just knew each other, soul to soul.”
He tugs me to him until my head is resting on his chest and his chin is snug against the top of my head, tucking me into the most wonderful cocoon I think I’ve ever been enveloped in. “Damn, I’m going to have to rewatch Cinderella now.”
“Good answer?”
“Perfect answer.”
We stand like this for a while before we slowly begin to untangle again and continue our walk.
The beach is magical in every way. The balmy breeze is soft and warm but not sticky, and the cloudless sky makes for a stunning view of the crescent moon and stars as far as the eye can see.
We’re not the only ones out here tonight (or this morning, depending on perspective I suppose) enjoying the beauty mama earth has to offer. A handful of women were sitting on blankets looking out over the ocean and chatting amongst themselves when we arrived. We’ve passed two early morning runners, and in the distance, I can see another couple, just like us, walking hand in hand along the water.
