Page 109 of Sweet Escape

“I’ll scrub those for you later,” Memphis says, pressing a kiss to the crown of my head. Then he wanders off, and I can’t help the way my eyes follow him as he goes.

The way they always do.

If someone had told me that my trip to Rosewood last year would result in the relationship Memphis and I share, I wouldn’t have believed it.

Yet, here we are. One year and some change later, and I’ve never been happier. I’d bet everything I have on Memphis feeling the same. And the reason I can say that is because it’s something we discuss constantly.

We talk daily. Support each other’s dreams and joys. See each other as often as we can.

Like now, my cat and I are in Rosewood for three weeks, give or take a handful of days here and there when I need to go down to LA for some publicity for a new single I’m releasing in January. Later this month, Memphis will be joining me at my parents’ house in Brentwood for Thanksgiving—our first holiday with my family—and then I’ll be back here for a week or two during Christmas.

Our lives are a little chaotic, but we both agreed on two things when I came back to Rosewood last year.

First, we love each other, and we’re committed to finding a way to make it work.

Second, we would always support each other in the things that bring us the greatest joy.

Right now, that means pursuing my music. For Memphis, that means continuing to build back his family’s vineyard into a successful, thriving business.

It also means that we aren’t always together, which I’m sure some people find strange.

But it works for us. We are both people who are very dedicated to our work, and we would resent each other if we felt obligated to let our dreams go just so we could live someone else’s version of happy.

This is our version, and it fits us perfectly.

After several more rounds of grape stomping, some delicious food, and a host of thank-you speeches and gift giving, Memphis and I finally take our leave, driving off to Main Street.

But when we pass by The Standard and I keep going, Memphis glances back, confusion evident in his expression.

“You remember where the bar is?”

I grin at him. “I know where The Standard is,” I reply. “We can come back later. I have something to show you first.”

We only drive for a few more minutes, and I turn left, then right, and then left again onto a cute little street about three blocks from downtown. Then I come to a stop on a residential street.

“Come on.” Nerves begin to fizzle under my skin as I wave for him to join me.

If I’m honest, the nerves have been there since I signed the paperwork, but now that we’re here and I’m going to share this with him, the anxiety is much more prominent.

It takes him a second to hop out and round the front of my car, but then he joins me on the little path leading to the front door of a dark-green Craftsman.

“What are we doing here?” He looks up and down the street.

“We’re moving in.”

His head spins quickly to look at me, and he blinks a few times. “What?”

I hold up the keys, the silver metal of the freshly cut set warm where I’ve been clutching them for the past hour or so as I imagined this moment over and over, rehearsing the things I wanted to say.

“I bought this house,” I tell him, glancing at it again and then back at him. “For us.”

His lips part in surprise, and then I slip my hand into his and we walk to the front door together, sliding the key into the lock and then pushing the door open.

It’s an adorable three-bedroom with all the charm that Craftsman-style homes typically offer. Hardwood floors, original trim, built-in bookshelves, and a working fireplace. The kitchen was gently renovated by the previous owner, but care went into it, and it looks like a fresh take on an original style. But my favorite part is the cute little backyard, with the covered porch and swinging bench and the little bit of grass that extends out toward a small detached garage.

Memphis takes it all in, listening as I walk him around showing him everything.

“What do you think?” I ask as we take a seat on the porch swing.

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