Page 71 of The Bloodfeather Promise
Epilogue
Won’t you feather me
pull me under you?
Feather me
won’t you love me too?
Feather me
cover all my sins.
This time, we both win
When you feather me.
~Seven Seconds
One month later…
Sea Cove
Greyson
It takes nearly a month to finish up the album, now officially titledRemember. We spend a lot of that time with Emerson’s parents, and mine as well. Of course, the guys in the band are overjoyed that Emerson is with me. Dylan seems especially relieved, although the hire of a new tour publicist has him all riled up. Something about the woman rubs him the wrong way, but the rest of us overrule his vague objections.
My private jet lands at the local airport in the afternoon, and we arrive back in Sea Cover in time to catch the sunset.
Damn, it feels good to be home.
Yes, I regard Lullaby Tides as home, now that Emerson is mine. I think she is a good luck charm of sorts, some type of positive energy affecting anyone who comes in contact with her. She’s rubbed off on me. I’ve longed for the quiet beauty of the little beach village, and I know it’s a result of her influence.
My parents are certainly not immune. Although the divorce proceedings are still in place, they requested a delay. This occurred the day after Emerson and I took them to dinner in downtown Buckhead.
I know my happiness affected them. Dad kissed my mom on the cheek as we departed the restaurant, and she beamed up at him. He held her elbow as she got into the car. Just like the old days.
“Don’t worry about unpacking. Just throw your suit on and meet me by the pool,” I tell Emerson during the elevator ride to our bedroom with the luggage.
“A swim before dinner?” She giggles as she heads down the short hallway. Kicking off her sandals, she’s already unbuttoning her jeans while I park the suitcases against the wall.
“Maybe we’ll have dessert before anything else,” I shoot back, wiggling my eyebrows. Changing into a pair of boardshorts, I ignore Emerson’s intake of breath at the sight of my naked body. “I already had Geoffrey deliver something we could heat up later.”
If I take action on those appreciative glances, we’ll never leave this room. While that is appealing, I have other plans for her.
“I like the sound of that,” Emerson murmurs, casting a sideways peek from beneath long, black lashes.
I kiss the back of her neck as she pulls her hair to the side and unfastens her bra. “Hurry up, slowpoke. I’m starving. And not for food.”
“Bossy, spoiled rockstar…” she teases as I exit the room.
Five minutes later, Emerson wades into the pool, sucking in a breath, then sighing with contentment when the lukewarm water hits her abdomen. I’ve had the heater for the pool switched on for a month, so it’s now the perfect temperature with the fall season underway.
A glass of wine waits for her beside the pool. It’s the same vintage we enjoyed at our first dinner on the terrace.
“You do know how to woo a girl,” she says, running her pink tongue along the rim of the glass. It’s a deliberately provocative gesture meant to incinerate me. It works.
“I know how to keep my girl happy.”
