Page 70 of Rock On

“What are we doing?” she asked curiously, taking my elbow as we walked.

“It’s a surprise.”

“Are we going out somewhere?”

I shook my head. “No. I thought it was easier to just stay here. Luckily, I managed to pull off something special.”

“Well, I can’t wait to see what you’ve come up with.”

We walked toward the back where the doors that led out to the beach were.

“You should probably take off your sandals,” I told her, as I slid off my sneakers.

“Are we going onto the beach?” she asked, stepping out of her sandals.

“Kind of.” I hopped down the steps on my good leg and then reached for her hand. We walked down and around past the edge of the building, where a canopy had been set up. They’d put a tarp on the sand, to make it easier to set up the table and chairs. I’d also ordered flowers, candles, and what was supposed to be a gourmet meal.

I’d opted to leave out any alcohol simply because there were a lot of addicts here, and I wanted to respect them as much as I could. In the privacy of our suites was one thing, but out here where anyone could potentially happen upon us, I wanted to keep things simple.

Besides, Harley and I didn’t need alcohol when we were together. We tended to be high on each other, and that was what I was counting on. I wanted to make love to her so badly I could practically taste it, but I needed her to know that we could reach that same high without the roughness. If we got back together, we’d do a lot of that too, because we both enjoyed it, but she had to understand that there could be pleasure without pain. Both physically and emotionally.

Now that I thought about it, while we’d always enjoyed a little kink, things hadn’t amped up until after the realization we couldn’t have kids. I didn’t know if she’d been punishing herself or me or the universe—that was something we had to dig into in therapy—but I couldn’t in good conscious be like those other guys. If I was going to be her man, her husband, the love of her life, I had to be better than that.

In the meantime, I wanted us to find a new normal that didn’t include all the grittiness. Or at least, less. Not because there was anything wrong with it but because I now recognized that we’d used it to compensate for something we’d thought was missing. And there wasn’t anything missing in our lives. There couldn’t be if we were going to work out.

Hell, we even had a kid now, which was the one thing we’d thought we’d never have.

He wasn’t mine, and I wouldn’t be so bold as to step into the role of his father without a lot of soul-searching, but if I wanted to be with Harley—and I really did—she and River were a package deal.

“Tommy.” Her voice was soft and filled with wonder as we rounded the corner and she saw what I’d planned. “Oh, Tommy, it’s beautiful.”

The sun was already going down, so the lights from the candles gave the open-air tent a romantic glow, and along with the deep reds and orange in the sky, it was breathtaking.

“Just like you.” I kissed the side of her face and we stepped onto the tarp, where a waiter was waiting to pull out her chair.

She sank into it gracefully and I managed to sit across from her without hobbling too much. My knee felt better, but it was still sore, despite wearing the brace and doing everything the physical therapist told me to do. I was itching to get behind the drums again, but I wasn’t thinking about music tonight.

“Thank you,” Harley said softly. “This is gorgeous and thoughtful and romantic.”

“You’re welcome.”

Someone brought us the Caesar salads I’d ordered, along with hot, fresh rolls, butter, and sparkling water. I liked still water personally, but Harley liked it with bubbles, so I’d tried to fill tonight with all her favorites. Beef Wellington was coming up for the main course, and chocolate souffles were on the menu for dessert.

“Don’t you want to watch the sunset?” she asked me, since my back was to the water.

“I just want to look at you,” I admitted. “You’re the most beautiful thing in the world as far as I’m concerned. Sunsets don’t hold a candle to what I see when I look at you.”

“I don’t think you’ve ever compared me to a sunset before,” she said.

“Because they don’t come close.”

“I like hearing you say that.”

“We’ve been through a lot,” I said, “but how beautiful you are hasn’t changed.”

“I’m older,” she protested. “And I have stretchmarks.”

I shrugged. “I’m older too. And stretchmarks are just special beauty marks.”

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