Page 159 of Sinful Desires
Me, coughing and crying and laughing all at once, calling him an angel.
I’d convinced myself it was a dream, that he was a figment of overdose and desperation.
But he had been real.
Through the blur of pills, concerts and parties, through every year I’d spent trying to disappear.
He’d worked in my world, slept near my ghosts, and never once dropped the weight of that secret.
And when I’d fallen apart again, he’d followed me into rehab and stayed.
My necklace.
God. He’d kept me pressed against his heart for years, and I never even knew.
A broken sob forced its way up from my lungs.
Two years of clues, and I had been blind to every one of them.
Blind to the tattoos on his skin. Blind to the way his hands would fist when I spat that I hated my father. Blind to how fiercely, how tenderly he’d watched over me since the moment I’d fallen into his arms.
It hit me all at once, crashing over me like that fountain water—memory and grief and something else I couldn’t even name.
I tasted salt on my tongue and realized I was crying.
Because he’d carried this truth alone. Because it was all right here, and I hadn’t seen it.
I saw it now. I sawhimnow.
Not as the man who guarded me. As the man who had once saved me. And had never stopped.
It’d been him all along.
“Any luck with your new song?” Nicholas asked from behind me as he walked over and sat down.
His voice cut through the haze.
I hadn’t heard him coming. The waves had swallowed everything but my thoughts.
I didn’t know what time it was either. I’d been here all day, thinking, crying, writing. Letting it all bleed out onto paper. The sun had started to dip lower, soft and orange, so I guessed it was almost evening.
“Yeah. I finished one,” I whispered.
He clapped once, grinning, then pulled me into a tight hug. “Good job, sunshine. I knew you’d get there.” He let go. “Now come on, get dressed. We’re eating out tonight. Liya and Pierre found a little restaurant with candles and a pianist. You’ll love it.”
I turned my face to the side as a tear slipped down my cheek.
He was still in costume. The white shirt, the messy hair. I guessed they reshot the proposal scene on set today.
Nicholas frowned and gently brushed the tear away with his thumb.
“What’s wrong, sunshine?” he asked softly. “Did your father call again?”
I shook my head and drew in a breath.
“When did you know Matthew was the one for you?”
His hand dropped to the sand between us, and for a second, he didn’t speak.
