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  “Yes,” Sadie breathed as the tip of my cock teased her opening.

  “I want you to be my girlfriend,” I told her, pushing to open her center. “Tell me that’s what you want too.”

  Sadie gasped, spreading her legs wider to make room for my length. I needed it, her space and submission. She was my muse and the inspiration necessary for me to prosper. “Tell me,” I urged, desperately and unapologetic.

  “Yes,” her cry was one of allowance and understanding. “Yes, Wyatt!”

  She opened herself further, demonstrating that she wanted for me all that I needed. She was willing to be what I needed – flexible and committed. We needed each other and would do anything for the other. I entered her without doubt or fear, and she welcomed me with comforting reassurance.

  “I love you,” she whispered along my neck.

  “You’re mine, baby,” I answered. Pumping her slowly, I was careful to savor every bit of her.

  “I know, and you’re mine,” Sadie demanded as her breathing grew labored.

  “I love you,” I professed, the acknowledgement pushing towards my release at dangerous speed.

  Chapter 37

  SADIE

  “AND WHAT WOULD you like to drink?” I asked, without a notepad or pen.

  I was back at work in the restaurant with a tan and a grin that no table of grumpy customers with messy toddlers could erase.

  My co-workers still found it crazy that I could remember a whole table’s order without taking one note. In the entire two years I’d worked at the best diner in Nashville, I had yet to write down a note or mess up an order.

  They joked that I was a witch, but I knew I was practicing. If you could remember an order, you could remember a melody. I used my job at the diner to help with my passion. Not only did the order memorization assist me, but the tips paid my bills.

  Although my month-long salary for working on Wyatt’s new album was enough to cover my expenses for half the year, I kept working at the restaurant and the piano lessons. My two students had been thrilled to learn why I wasn’t able to give them lessons as my absence gave them bragging rights. I wasn’t going to become dependent on my new boyfriend’s success. Not after years of denying my parents’ financial support.

  I would make it on my own, regardless of how difficult that was for any of them to accept. It wasn’t about them; I was the one who had to look at myself in the mirror every day. I wanted to be proud of my reflection, certain my success was due to my hard work and talent, and nothing else.

  As I memorized my table’s orders, I noticed a familiar face sitting in the back corner at the far right. Moving around the table, I repeated the orders in a fast fashion I’d grown to understand was impressive. “So, that’s a cheeseburger with a Coke,” I nodded to the first seat at the booth. My eyes moved clockwise to each patron. “A roasted chicken breast with mash and veggies, but little garlic, with a Bud Light. You’re having the meatloaf and loaded baked potato, no sour cream with a Diet Coke, no ice. And you are going straight for dessert. Apple pie à la mode, and a coffee.”

  “Perfect!” The man at the end of the table sat on the edge of his seat as though he’d heard of such an unbelievable feat and came to test it out for himself.

  “Let me go put this in and we’ll be right out with your order as soon as it’s ready,” I said. Quickly, I typed the orders into the iPad before moving to see why Gayle was at my job.

  “Is this some type of independent protest?” Gayle smirked, looking over her menu with amusement.

  “Are you going to order, or did you purposefully have yourself set in my section for a reason?” I teased, snatching the menu from her hand.

  “I have something better than an order to keep your job here,” she claimed. Gayle knew how important it was to come to the diner, requesting to sit in my section. She took on the responsibility to remind my boss how valuable I was as a waiter regularly.

  “And what is that?” I entertained her cautiously.

  Gayle had confronted me after my return from Miami, as did the rest of my family. Like my parents, she wanted to know why I didn’t feel comfortable telling her about my relationship with Wyatt.

  Unlike my parents, she could understand the connection between two artists creating. Gayle opened after my revelation, sharing how deeply she’d fallen for artists she collaborated with. Apparently, none of her encounters had been vocalized, and so she lived the rest of her life wondering if the chemistry she’d felt was all in her head or truly reciprocated.

  She applauded my decision to attempt to escape it, having felt how strongly it could pull away from everything I’d worked so hard to achieve. My parents, on the other hand, couldn’t see why I wouldn’t just fall in love with Wyatt and live happily ever after. It was everything they’d ever wanted for me – a man who could provide for me financially so that my music could truly be a hobby. But that wasn’t my dream.

  “The festival opportunity that I told you about before this all went down is real,” Gayle announced with a beam I knew meant she wasn’t pulling my leg.

  “How real?” I asked, just to hear the details.

  She didn’t stall. “I got the core five an exclusive contract,” she said boldly, continuing when I didn’t collapse, as I should have from such huge news.

  Her announcement meant that no matter what else happened at the festival, our gig and fee were secured. It was an aspiring artist’s dream, one I’d been hoping for since I moved to Nashville.

  When I didn’t show any excitement, Gayle carried on, sharing the perks of the agreement she’d negotiated. “We are obviously opening up on every show, but we get to sell our own merch and CDs, so we can really make some money!”

  I knew even better than her how much of a big deal that was. Gayle had been supplementing her musician income with freelance gigs, but most of us relied on hard labor jobs like waitressing. The possibility that I could earn enough to take care of myself from performing was a dream.

  “Let me think about it,” I stalled, watching the gleam fade from Gayle’s eyes.

  Thankfully, as my friend, she held back from asking the obvious question – what in the world could make me even consider delaying the answer to an opportunity I had waited so long to earn.

  Instead, my best friend ordered a New York strip steak with two eggs fried hard, and hash browns with burnt crisps and tea. It was nothing more than a test of my practice, as one of the few people who knew how I had committed myself to perfecting waitressing to perfect my musicianship.

  Working in a band, I was constantly improvising, learning on the fly and adjusting without pausing the music. I had to learn to adapt quickly, and waitressing had helped me do that. Moving to Nashville was a fresh start to everything, including my career as a musician.

  Before that, everything was nothing more than aspiration and hope. But after only being in the city for a short while, I’d joined a band and finally began to see myself becoming who I always wanted to be.

  Determined to prove myself as the rookie of the band, I’d studied long and hard to be better. I always tried to be the first person to arrive at rehearsal, and the last to leave. The way I saw it, if I could master waitressing, I could master anything.

  There were so many moving pieces in a restaurant, and I learned of each one, applying that philosophy to every aspect of my life. I tried to learn as much as I could about every instrument played by my bandmates, just as I learned drink recipes from the bartender, and how to properly season poultry from the cook.

  Just thinking of my first days in Nashville and a band, I couldn’t help but grow excited at the possibility of a reunion. I hadn’t performed in a long time, and festival performances were a lifetime goal for me. Now, with it right in front of my face, I felt differently than I had in the past.

  For the first time, I didn’t feel the need to seek validation through professional accomplishments. It was like shedding a layer of insecurity and desperation, jumping at every opportunity
that came my way. Working with a successful artist had shown me that I really was talented, with the ability to work as a pianist on hit records.

  Even more, I now could see that there was more to life than my dreams. For years, I had been chasing my goals at full speed with intense tunnel vision. Wyatt brought a balance to my life, showing that I cared about more than success.

  As much as I wanted to tour the region and perform for screaming fans, the idea of not seeing my boyfriend for weeks on end sounded torturous. All day, I’d checked the clock with a mental countdown to when I would get to see Wyatt after my shift. I wasn’t interested in counting down days before feeling him in my arms.

  Gayle was my best friend, and could easily read my feelings. She knew I was leaning towards rejecting the offer, so she made me promise to sleep on the idea before giving her an answer. I laughed, certain my answer wouldn’t change.

  It was freeing to no longer feel forced to sacrifice everything for the possibility of something better. It didn’t matter how the festival gig could build my résumé or experience level. None of what used to excite me moved me in the slightest. If one thing was certain, it was that I knew where I stood. If ever tasked with choosing between my career and my love, I always knew which way I would pick.

  As if on cue, my phone vibrated in my back pocket. A smile spread across my face as I looked at the photo of Wyatt and I on the beach in Miami. Our skin was tan, with a small patch of light brown sand stuck to my cheek. Wyatt’s tattoo-clad arm draped over my shoulder, a casual smile on his handsome face.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey babe,” he said, setting a pack of butterflies free in my stomach. I wondered if hearing him use terms of endearment for me would ever feel normal.

  “I was just thinking about you,” I admitted, feeling my cheeks blush.

  “Oh yeah? Good thoughts?”

  “Always,” I breathed, missing him more now that I had heard his voice. “I have something I want to talk to you about.”

  “Come by the studio,” he said quickly. My stomach tensed at the thought. Going back to the studio felt like returning to the scene of a crime, something I had no interest in doing.

  “I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” I said nervously.

  “It’s always a good idea for you to be near me.”

  I couldn’t argue with that, as it was the exact reason I didn’t want to go on the festival tour with Gayle and my reunited band. So, I told him I’d come by after my shift.

  Chapter 38

  WYATT

  AFTER TALKING TO Sadie, I needed a break from work. She had told me she needed to talk to me, and my mind was racing, counting down until her shift was over so I could learn what was bothering her. I wished it had to do with her reconsidering working together.

  Things hadn’t been the same for me in the studio without her. After two full mornings with new demos, I hadn’t written a single lyric. Maybe it was simply a lack of inspiration, but I honestly felt it was because I needed Sadie.

  She had brought something out of me that I hadn’t felt in a long time. It was a passion that had been lacking from my life, and especially from my career. When I was with her, I was the young boy who just wanted to have a little fun, making up the rules as I went.

  Sadie and I never discussed trends or the possibility of winning awards when we made music. It was pure, all about expressing ourselves and being creative. I missed that, and deep down I wanted to believe that Sadie missed it as well.

  Some couples had great chemistry in the bedroom, while everything else in their life was mediocre. Others worked well together with no sparks in private. With me and Sadie, we were all around compatible. No matter where we were, the electricity was present and we blended to create an improved version of ourselves.

  I returned to the studio after a short walk, hoping to find Sadie already there. So, when I heard Mitchell’s voice booming before I even reached the door, I moved quicker. She’d been worried about coming back to the studio, and it was me who assured her everything would be fine. Now, my producer was yelling at her about who knew what.

  I burst through the door more aggressively than I intended, ready to let Mitchell know he should never talk to the love of my life with anything less than the utmost respect. Only, when my eyes landed on the target of Mitchell’s wrath, it wasn’t Sadie.

  Still, my feet moved quickly, putting myself between Mitchell to protect my sister. Billie’s eyes glazed over as they always did when she was fighting back her tears. She was distraught, but I wasn’t sure why.

  “Hey! What the fuck is wrong with you?” I yelled at Mitchell, shocked by the anger that boomed in my voice.

  “Are you kidding me?” He looked at me incredulously. “Have you seen this?” He pushed a phone towards me, displaying a picture that seemed to have him so upset.

  The photograph was of a woman’s hand. The red manicured nails held onto a white and black photo of a sonogram, but the star of the photo was the large diamond ring on her ring finger. It took a second for my mind to connect the dots.

  This wasn’t just any woman’s photo – it was Billie’s Instagram. The caption was what really shocked me. Beneath the photo, it read:

  A lot of you have been asking why I haven’t posted much in the studio lately. You’re worrying about the upcoming album and I get it. What I had to come to grips with is that I am not worried about the album. For the first time in a while, I have been so interested in my personal life, and protecting it, that I’ve been neglecting my music career. I know that’s not the best news for you, but it’s been the best news for me. I really hope you can be happy for me in this next phase that I hope to share with you. I guess this is the official announcement – I’m done with music for the time being. Life has just gotten so much more interesting for me, and I don’t want to miss a second of it. My fiancé Brad and I are thrilled to welcome our little bundle of joy at the end of this year. We heard the heartbeat for the first time this morning, and it’s the most wonderful sound in the world. I guess I should start thinking of baby names. Drop any good ones in the comments. You know how much I love your input!

  Slowly, I turned to face my sister. Unable to contain the tears any longer, they rushed down her face.

  All my anger had evaporated. “Is this real, Billie?” I asked.

  “I wanted to tell you,” she blurted out. “I swear I did, Wyatt. But I knew you would be mad, and Mitchell wanted me to keep it quiet. I just didn’t know how to handle it.”

  “Is that why you haven’t been coming to the studio?” I asked, beginning to put it all together.

  “Yeah, I have bad morning sickness, only it’s more like all day sickness.” She pushed out a pitiful laugh that let me know she wasn’t joking. “I was planning on telling you when I saw you next, but as we’ve been at odds, I didn’t know when that would be. I didn’t want to call while you were on vacation as you’ve respected my downtime. But a friend who knows someone who runs a gossip blog said that I was seen buying pregnancy tests and was pressing me for deets. I just knew it was a matter of time before the story got leaked. Mom and Dad know.”

  A pang of guilt struck through my chest knowing that she felt she couldn’t tell me this. Even more, I had been so hard on her for not attending studio sessions. I had no idea the reasoning behind her lack of attendance, or why Brad had become a permanent fixture.

  If Sadie was pregnant with my baby, I’d want to be there as much as I could, too. In an instant, I grew to respect and appreciate him for how he had been protecting my sister.

  “I’m not mad,” I assured Billie, pulling her into my arms for a hug. I could feel the relief as her shoulders dropped, her head leaning on my shoulder. “I’ve always wanted to be an uncle.”

  Just as I released her, I noticed the door swing open. Sadie walked in wearing a T-shirt and skinny jeans with her Chuck Taylor sneakers. She was gorgeous, and worth every second I’d been waiting on her arrival.

  When I saw her,
everything around me silenced and dimmed, leaving only her. My heart stopped just looking at her, realizing that I wanted to build a life with her just as my sister was choosing to build a life with Brad. It was crazy how twins’ lives could sync so literally.

  “Jesus Christ!” Mitchell huffed, throwing his hands into the air. “Women are fucking up my life! This one has my star talent wrapped around her finger,” he pointed to Sadie before looking at Billie. “As if it wasn’t enough that this one has forgotten how to sign on the dotted line.”

  “I’ve told you over and over, Mitchell,” Billie spoke with such emotion that her voice cracked. “There is no way I am putting my kid up for adoption just because my timeline doesn’t fit with your rollout!”

  Maybe it was the way he was talking to my sister when I first walked into the studio. Maybe it was built-up frustration from not confronting him immediately after he talked badly to Sadie. Or maybe I was just fed up with his shitty behavior.

  Whatever it was, I charged Mitchell with all the force I could muster, gripping the collar of his shirt as I pushed him against the wall. His eyes doubled in size, fear laced through the brown irises as he held his hands up defenselessly.

  “Don’t you ever talk ill of my sister or Sadie!” I yelled, feeling the fabric of his shirt tear beneath my fingers.

  Sadie grabbed my arm before I could do anything else, begging me to stop. She was my antidote, the calm I needed to restore my composure. I just couldn’t believe Mitchell would have the balls and disrespect to go behind my back and ask my sister to give my niece or nephew up.

  For what? Record sales? How he could think that nothing came before this industry sickened me. I never wanted to work with anyone who lacked humanity and decency in such an obvious way.

  “You’re fucking fired!” I barked at him. I released my grip and he slid down the wall.

  Scrambling to retrieve his bag, Mitchell rushed out of the studio. He was such a coward, and always had been. I couldn’t believe how long I’d let him stick around, knowing how scandalous he could be.