Page 69 of Counterpoint and Harmony

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Mixdown:the process near the end of the recording process in which all the recorded tracks are blended and placed onto the left and right channels of a standard stereo recording

Charlie

I stare into Damian’s dark eyes, full of regret and hope. “Okay,” I whisper. “I forgive you.”

He lets out a slow breath and presses another kiss to my lips, this one longer, but still soft and gentle.

When he pulls back, I lick my bottom lip, and his eyes track the movement, a flicker of lust igniting there. So I lean in and kiss him this time, letting my tongue slide along his lower lip.

He lets out a groan, his arms tightening around me even more. I squirm, wanting to turn and straddle him instead of sitting sideways across his thighs.

When he realizes I’m not trying to get away, he loosens his hold, allowing me to adjust my position. But he doesn’t allow me to kiss him again. With his hands cupping my head, he holds me in place, my own hands still resting on his cheeks.

“Charlotte Baxter, I love you. I’min lovewith you, and I don’t see that changing. Ever.”

My breath catches at his use of my own words, but he’s changed it to be more emphatic.

“I thought—you haven’t said it. At all. Not since …”

A look of pained regret crosses his face. “Not since December. I know. I’m sorry. I should’ve started saying it again that night Lauren came and brought me to your hotel. That was when I knew that there was no fighting this, no getting over us, over you. No matter how much I’d tried between December and that night, it was always an exercise in futility.” He pauses, swallowing.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

He brings my forehead to his and closes his eyes. “Because I’m an idiot. I was worried … I thought you’d get tired of me. With me still here and you off being famous, I figured there was no way anything between us could last, so what was the point in trying for more than what we had? I didn’t …” He swallows and pushes my head away from his just far enough to look me in the eye. “I didn’t want to hold you back. Drag you down. Keep you from being as awesome as you are.”

I release the breath I’ve been holding, my entire torso deflating. Sitting back, I let my hands slide down to his chest, though his arms are long enough that his stay in place, and narrow my eyes at him. “You really are kinda dumb, aren’t you?”

With a soft laugh, he cracks a smile. “That’s what I’ve been saying, isn’t it?”

Now I laugh too, then lean in to kiss him on the forehead. He closes his eyes at the contact, but opens them again when I pull back. With a crooked smile on my face, I shake my head. “You don’t drag me down. You keep me grounded. You make me feel like someone cares about me, not just about my star status. In fact, I think that’s probably the thing about me you like the least.”

His head tilts to the side, like he’s thinking about it.

I let out another laugh. “Please. Don’t even try to deny it. That’s the thing that’s sent you running for the hills more than once.”

He opens his mouth, but closes it again. Then his eyes narrow before he says, “To be fair, that wasn’t the only issue the first time.”

A wave of sorrow washes over me, and my shoulders slump again. “I know. I am sorry about the way that all happened.”

His hand moves to my cheek, tilting my head to meet his eyes. “You don’t have to keep apologizing, Charlie. While I still don’t like that I found out the way I did, I understand why you were hesitant to tell me. And my reaction, both then and this weekend, didn’t exactly prove your fears wrong.”

I bite my lip to keep from agreeing with him, but something in my face must give me away anyway, because he gives me an acerbic look.

“You don’t need to gloat, you know.”

“I’m not.” But my voice is choked with laughter.

He stares at me for a moment longer, but cracks a smile. “Anyway, the point is, I don’t care about that anymore. You don’t need to apologize. I know you’re sorry for the way things happened and that you never meant to hurt me. I’m sorry for not having more faith in you, more faith in us.”

Shaking my head, my smile breaks free of my attempts to bite it back. “You already apologized. I know you’re sorry and that you didn’t mean to hurt me.”

He narrows his eyes at me again, and I let loose my laugh. “Seriously, can we consider apologies given and accepted and move on?”

“Gladly.” His hands slide down my torso, and he grips my hips, tilting me toward him. “What does moving on entail, exactly?”

I draw my finger down his chest, following the path with my eyes. “Well …” I draw the word out. “I do want to know that you’re not going to ask for time away from me the next time our pictures end up in the tabloids.”

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