Page 78 of The Lyrics of Love

Rylie wanted to slap her and fought the urge to do so.

Nash merely chuckled. “You’ve already said a ton of bad things about me, Luna. Our relationship is old news. I’ve moved on. It’s time you did, too.”

He paused, raising his hand, which held his phone. “Besides, I pressed record before I ever stepped foot into this room, a room in a house you broke into, remember? Say whatever you want to the press, Luna. I’ll merely play this recording for them.”

A stream of loud expletives erupted from the beautiful woman’s mouth. She raised her hand to strike Nash, but he caught her wrist.

“Get dressed, Luna. Your time here is done.”

“You are making the biggest mistake of your life, Nash. Marrying this little nobody.”

He tightened his arm around Rylie. “This little lady makes me the happiest I’ve ever been. She accepts me for who I am and hasn’t tried to change me, like some people I know. I’m going to be very happy with Rylie, living here in the Cove, raising our family. You go enjoy Hollywood and all those Botoxed celebrities. That’s your world, Luna. It never was mine.”

She watched Nash’s ex-wife toss on her clothes, fascinated at how someone so gorgeous could actually be so ugly.

Nash moved aside, sweeping his hand in a gesture to indicate to Luna to go before them. She stomped from the bedroom. They trailed after her, the strong odor of her perfume hanging in the air.

Luna reached the front door and threw it open, slamming it behind her, so hard the house shook.

“We just might have to have the place fumigated,” he said, waving his hand, his nose crinkling in disgust.

“I didn’t see a car when I got here,” Rylie told him. “I had no idea your ex-wife was waiting for you in your bed. Naked.” She shook her head. “I can see why you liked her body, Nash. I’m afraid that I’ll never look like that.”

He wrapped her in an embrace, his mouth crashing down on hers for a hot, deep kiss. When he broke it, he gave her his lopsided grin.

“I like you exactly the way you are, Rylie Robinson. Soon to be Rylie Edwards. You are perfect for me, just as I’m perfect for you. I cannot wait to be your husband.”

Nash kissed her again, sending Rylie to the heavens.

EPILOGUE

ONE WEEK LATER—NASHVILLE, TENNESSEE

Nash sat on the porch swing of his Nashville farm, his arm around his wife’s shoulders, his toe pushing off to gently rock them as they watched the sun slowly setting.

“Happy?” he asked, pressing his lips to her temple.

Rylie turned and faced him. “Happy doesn’t begin to describe it.” She rested her head against his shoulder, a sigh of contentment escaping her.

Their Oregon wedding had gone off without a hitch. The country music-loving judge married them in his chambers, their friends surrounding them. The reception, held at Ainsley and Jackson’s place, had been a blast. They had celebrated not only their marriage but the fact all songs for the new album had been recorded. It would take Lars and the engineering team time to put it together, but Chuck assured him they could get the CD out before Christmas, a true gift to his fans.

A Mistake I Can’t Take Back was at the top of the charts now, and Make-A-Wish was over the moon, telling Nash their donations had almost doubled in the past week. He liked being able to do some good in this world with his music, not just entertaining people who downloaded his songs, but helping others with the profits from the album. Even Billy and Wills had kicked in their percentage of the song for the charity.

Dart had decided to leave, as planned. His work on the album had been some of the best playing he had done. Nash parted with the bass guitarist, wishing him well.

They hadn’t wanted any wedding gifts, though several people had brought them one. Their favorite had been a hope chest, carved together by Pops and Jerry, the reason they had spent so much time in Jerry’s workshop. When Pops had presented it to them, both Rylie and he had shed more than a few tears. Pops had told them he expected a great-grandson or great-granddaughter sooner rather than later. Nash and Rylie talked that night after everyone had left and they were driving back to her place, discussing when they wanted children. They both agreed they wanted a year or two to themselves to enjoy one another before they would start their family. For now, they were enjoying a honeymoon at his farm. Pops had stayed behind in Oregon, saying he would help Jerry run the store in Rylie’s absence.

His cell rang and he lifted it from his pocket. “It’s Shayla Newton.”

“I’d say no to just about anyone else, but this could be about our future. Take her call,” Rylie advised.

“Hi, Shayla,” Nash said. “I’m putting you on speakerphone. Rylie is here with me.”

“Hey, you two. Well, I’ve got some good news for you. It’s not a house, but it is a piece of property that will be going up for sale tomorrow morning. A widow who doesn’t want to hang onto it after her husband’s death.”

Shayla provided them with the details. The land would be large enough to build not only their house but a recording studio, which they had both decided would be a better use of their time than Nash having to drive into Portland each time he wanted to record. Shayla also suggested they build a small guest cottage on the land, as well, for people to stay in while recording sessions went on.

“It also has water access. You could build a dock. Have a boat. House your kayaks and other water equipment.”

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