Page 46 of No More Love Songs

I nod. “Now you know why Ari’s such a fan,” I tease, returning the guitar to its place on the wall. “She can’t help herself. Been brainwashing her with your songs since she was a baby.”

Sky laughs but she hurries to cover her mouth with her hand, apparently still worried she might wake the girls. “I can think of worse things than being used to brainwash a person into believing they were loved wholly and unconditionally.” She pauses, and I can tell from the way her eyes are dancing around, her thoughts are on the move, but her mouth is hesitant to follow. “Ever sing any of my songs to anyone else?” she asks, though judging by her tone, I’m not sure she really wants to know the answer.

“Yep.” I smirk. Because I know who I sing to, and she doesn’t. And because I know in this moment, the day will come, she won’t worry about asking me these questions anymore. Hell, one day, she’ll stop asking. She’ll know. “My light,” I tell her, “I’ve been singing that one to Leela ever since she was a puppy. It’s kind of our song.”

Sky’s face brightens with undeniable relief. Maybe we’ve both been kidding ourselves about what’s been happening between us for a while. “You know, I can see how that would be the perfect puppy love song,” she says, a silly grin stretching over her mouth. “Do you have songs with all your dogs?”

“Obviously.” I place my hand on her lower back to lead her back toward the stairs. If we keep doing this dance right outside my bedroom door, there’s no telling the spontaneous mistakes we’ll be prone to making. “I don’t play favorites around here.” We reach the steps, and she looks up at me, her eyes asking another question, one I can read plain as day. “Sorry. You’re not the only artist I listen to and serenade my dogs with.”

She shrugs. “Fair enough.” Then we start our way back down to ground level.

I can’t deny the descent feels symbolic somehow, like coming back down to earth after getting lost in a state of dreaming. She must feel it too because her smile wanes and neither of us says anything the entire walk back to her room.

“I guess I should try and get some sleep before those two wake up ready for their into-town adventure,” she says, trying to joke but losing some of the humor in the delivery. I don’t think sleep is really on her mind right now.

“I think we both know you’re not likely to get any shuteye for a while.” I place my hand on her handle, preparing to open the door for her. “I can hear your brain reeling from here. Between the caffeine and creativity still pumping through you, you’re the noisiest silence I’ve been around in a long time.”

“It’s not just the caffeine and creativity,” she says, eyes locking onto my hand on the door handle.

“Excited about your cereal box journal?”

Her eyes move up to meet mine and the corner of her mouth moves higher into a half-grin. “That would be it.”

“I figured.”

“What about you? Going to try and take that nap you mentioned?”

“I’m not tired.” I swallow down the words climbing my throat, begging for air and instead move the handle until it clicks and the door pops open. “Girls will probably sleep ‘til noon, so I guess I’ll see you in a few hours.”

She begins to walk past me but stops in the open doorway. “Kit,” she says quietly. “You’re pretty goddamn annoying yourself.”

I smile, reaching my thumb for her face, and letting it trace softly down her cheek. “About time you admitted it.”

Then I turn and walk away before either of us can say anything else.

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