Page 125 of Perfect Composition
Frantically, I search the room. It’s filled with the flowers I never brought her. I try to find the words I wrote years ago—the music that says what I need to so much better than I could ever say. Spying them on her coffee table, I bend down to pick them up. When I straighten, she’s within arm’s reach. My breath whooshes out. “I need to tell you what happened.”
She shakes her head. “Not right now, you don’t. Right now, we need to do something for us.”
Us.I relish the word, even as Paige shucks her coat and drops it to the floor. “What’s that?”
“We used to have this place. There were no rules, no regrets. No lies, nothing but love. Do you remember it?” She reaches for my hand and cradles it in hers before laying it over her heart.
“I think I’ve spent far too long trying to get back there. But I ruined it. Again.” My voice breaks.
“You didn’t, Beckett. I swear. And neither did I. It’s hard, but we keep letting other people in. For our place to be just ours, we have to stop doing that. It’s going to be hard, but we have to try to find that place where only we can go. And I think I know where that is.” Paige bends down and presses her lips to the tips of my fingers, fingers that have strummed guitars, pressed piano keys, and bled ink. And still been unfulfilled until I touched her skin again.
I drop the papers at my feet. What are mere words when I can speak to her in a language only she understands because she taught me it existed? I run my open hand down the side of her face, feeling the chill on her skin. “You undo me,” I whisper hoarsely.
Her brow furrows. “I don’t think that’s right. We’re supposed to put each other back together.”
I bend down and lift her high against my chest before I move over to the couch and drop backward so Paige falls on top of me. “Undo me, put me back together. As often as you need to realize the heart inside only beats for you. It only ever has.”
Paige’s lips part, tempting me to push up and take them. “And that’s where we’re supposed to be. There. Just there.”
“Where?” I’m confused.
“Home. The place that exists between your heart and mine. Will you forgive me? Will you let me back into our home?”
I’m flabbergasted. “There’s nothing to forgive, at least not for you. But you have to let me explain. I’ve had Ward—”
Paige lays her fingers across my mouth. “Later. Right now, we’re home. And I don’t want to talk about work.” She leans down, her eyes intent on my lips.
I flip us so she’s on her back. I quickly remove her glasses and send them skidding across the end table. My hand rests on her hip. “Then what do you want to talk about?”
She tugs my face closer. I shift until I’m stretched out on top of her, and she lets out a happy sigh. “Now? Nothing.” Then she takes my mouth in the searing kiss I’ve been hoping for since I knew she was heading toward the East Coast to be closer to me.
As my hands begin to play the melody in counterpart to the rhythm she’s stirring up in me, I realize we have the composition down. We’ll work on the lyrics to accompany it later because I’m not spending another night without the woman I love in my arms.
Not ever again.
After we made love on the couch, we stumbled up the narrow stairs to her bedroom where we went for another round. Now, she’s spending an inordinate amount of time admiring my new tattoo that I finally got to show off. “It’s the flower of life and seed of life. It’s meant to represent you and Austyn. I had it done right before the Grammys.”
“So, that’s why you were in a wet suit when you FaceTimed me from LA.” Her fingers dance over the swirls.
I nod. “I didn’t want you to see it just yet. I hoped it wouldn’t be noticed with that costume I put on for the Grammys, but then that picture came out in the paper.” A surge of fury over the stupid social media site is dissipated when Paige presses her lips to the center.
“It’s special.”
“I’m going to have to mention it when I sue that site’s ass off,” I warn her.
“Sure, but not the meaning. Just that you had ink done, so obviously the pictures were from before that.” Paige shrugs nonchalantly, as if our entire relationship didn’t just hang in the balance.
I grip her shoulders. “I’m not in bed with a Paige-bot, right?”
She snickers. “A Paige-bot?”
“Invasion of the Paige-snatchers?” I become contemplative. “No, not that. I know you’re…”
“Christ, Beckett!” she screeches.
“Definitely my Paige.” Then with wonder, I whisper, “You are, aren’t you? Mine. Finally.”
She rests her weight on top of mine, expression solemn. “I can’t say there aren’t going to be times when I won’t need reassurance, because I will. Emotionally, I’ve had so many highs and lows in the last five months. The things I put my faith in have crumbled beneath me. I honestly opened my heart to second chances: my father, my life, and you. God, especially you. Yet, we hit the first hurdle, and I tripped right over it.”
