Page 75 of Voice to Raise
“Could you be mine?” Again, Creed puffed out his chest.
Spencer smiled and rolled his eyes. “Uh…no.” He whacked Creed back on the biceps. “Good try, though.”
I held up my phone.
Creed shrugged and sauntered off to the sound booth.
I texted Reese—her preferred method of communication.
A minute later, she gave me the thumbs up and aten mins out.
“Hot chocolate.” I snagged Spencer’s hand and guided him upstairs.
“You’re nervous.” He followed me into the kitchen with a concerned expression—furrowed brow and all.
I snagged the jug of milk and a saucepan. “Reese will want one as well. Do you think I should make enough in case Mickey and/or Pauletta want some? I’ve got the coffee machine—”
He placed his hands over mine, gently guiding me to put the milk and saucepan on the counter. He took my hands and pulled me into his arms. “Whatever this is, it’ll be over in a couple ofhours. You’re free to take your time making the decision. You’re a band of four, so there’ll be a discussion. I know this seems like a really big deal—”
“This is Pauletta Fucking Magnum. She made Grindstone.”
“Yes. You showed me the documentary. Really impressive. But they were ten-years-in-the-making overnight successes.”
“She’s better at her job now. She’s got connections. She can help us with our Rocktoberfest demo.”
“That’s all true. But you also have to stay true to who you are. And that means listening, taking it in, and deciding as a band. Don’t rush to judgement. Don’t jump headfirst without testing the depth of the water.”
I chuckled. “Is that really a saying? Isn’t it something about feetfirst?”
“Well, if the water’s shallow and you jump in headfirst, I’d say you’re in big trouble.”
I grasped his biceps. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He kissed my lips. “Make extra hot chocolate. We can always have it for breakfast.”
“Aren’t we staying at your place tonight?”
He nodded. “Right. Moses.”
I set about pouring the milk into the saucepan. “You know, we could set up a litter box for him here. For the nights you stay over. Then he won’t take his aggression out on that poor stuffed squirrel.” A squirrel we’d had to repair more than once.
“What do you mean?”
“We could make it even easier.” I turned the burner on, then set the saucepan down.
He curled myself against me—taking me in his arms. “How?”
“Well, you could just, you know, be here. All the time.” I held my breath.
He stilled.
For a very long time.
“Or not. It’s a stupid suggestion. You’d be much farther away from work. And you’ve got your condo—”
“I’m allowed to rent it out.” He pressed his nose against my ear. “Are you asking me to move in? It’s only been two months.”
I stirred the milk with the wooden spoon I’d grabbed. “Sure. Except either you’re here or I’m there just about every night. I hate when we’re apart. I don’t like leaving the house empty, and Moses shouldn’t be alone as often as he is.” I took a deep breath. “Seems to me the solution is pretty simple.”
