Page 75 of Thanks for Coming Along

I would walk with bare feet to surrender at your boots

Swim through any frozen sea, I would burn on the funeral pyre

Anything for your love and desire

Sink me deep in the seabed

Hell could try to hold me down

But I'll breach my way to the light

Through the abyss, to hear your lips call me "baby"

As the song built to its peak, a wave of emotion crashed over him, leaving him overwhelmed. It wasn’t just music - it was a declaration, a confession of love, and a reminder of everything they’d shared. The fiddle and drums eased into silence, leaving only Eden’s gentle guitar strumming and her soulful, honeyed voice lingering in the air, each note wrapping around him like a memory.

I forgave the world when you touched me

I met you and now I’m dreaming

You awaken lanterns with your light

And cast demons fleeing into the endless night

Your shadow dancing on my ceiling like a ghost

Haunting me when I sleep

Absolve me until I’m back in your arms

When the final note faded, the studio burst into applause. Eden’s smile lit up the room, but Ronan could see the tears in her eyes. His heart swelled with relief and joy, and before he knew it, his own eyes were welling up. She still cared. This wasn’t the end of their story. It was just the beginning.

Her performance had left him speechless—words couldn’t capture the storm of emotions building inside him. But when words failed, art spoke. She’d proven that with every chord, every lyric.

Ronan knew exactly what he had to do next. He had something he’d been working on, and Eden’s performance had given him the clarity he needed. Now, it was just a matter of convincing his boss to get on board. With renewed determination, he was ready to make it happen.

45

Eden

Eden fought to keep from yawning as the makeup artist applied eyeshadow to her eyelids. Colm had insisted on celebrating their performance with whiskey backstage last night, and they ended up talking for hours. She’d barely gotten two hours of sleep. She just hoped it would be enough to win Ronan back. Sadie had made sure Ronan saw the performance, but so far, she hadn’t heard anything from him.

She’d been too nervous to reach out directly, scared he’d just laugh at her for trying to fix things. But that performance? Every note had her heart in it. She’d spent three straight days writing and producing the song, feeling more inspired than she ever had. Then, Eden had gone to Colm’s house with a bag of bone meal for his neglected hydrangea and convinced him to add his fiddle to the song. It didn’t take much, and it turned out to be the perfect addition to her song.

Her record label was livid with her for performing the song without their approval. If the response hadn’t been so positive, she was sure they would’ve dropped her in a heartbeat. She knew she was treading on thin ice—one more screw-up, and her contract could be toast. They’d already made it clear she was on probation. But honestly? She couldn’t bring herself to care. There were bigger things on her mind now, like getting Ronan to forgive her for being so stupid.

She almost felt impressed with herself. In one week, she’d managed to piss off two major organizations. Must be some kind of record. Maybe she’d even make it into the Guinness World Records next to the lady with the longest fingernails.

She could only hope Ronan saw the risk she’d taken. The song was for him. It was a tribute to him and his roots. What had started as a vulnerable reflection of her own fears had turned into a declaration of everything she couldn’t say before—everything she felt for him.

Tonight, she was going to come face-to-face with him at the premiere screening of the documentary. They were the guests of honor, but she just hoped there’d be time to talk to him before the screening.

The more she thought about him, the more doubts crept in. What if he’d already moved on? It wouldn't be the first time. Eight days had a way of changing things. It had turned them from colleagues to lovers, but she couldn’t shake the fear that it could do the opposite, too.

Eden stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her blue eyes were framed with smoky eyeliner, her under-eye circles hidden under foundation, and a nude lip to top it off. She felt like it was armor of some kind, a way to steel herself for whatever was coming when she saw Ronan.

She rushed to the venue after a wardrobe malfunction that had her stylist fighting with a stubborn zipper, finally giving in to a mix of cooking spray and pliers. She barely made it to the red carpet with seconds to spare and found herself facing a sea of questions and flashing cameras. But her focus kept drifting, scanning the crowd, hoping to catch sight of Ronan. He was nowhere to be found. With every minute that passed, her heart sank a little more, a knot tightening in her stomach. Maybe he’d decided to skip the screening. She wouldn’t blame him if he had.

As she was led to the front row of the theater, Eden's gaze fell on the empty seat next to hers. A small sign rested on it, reading, "Reserved for Ronan Murphy."

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