Page 67 of The Lyrics of Love

“Yes.”

“And I assume that’s going to be a strenuous workout.”

“Yes,” she echoed again.

“Then you probably don’t want to go surf or SUP this morning.” He kissed her nape again. “And we have between now and eight o’clock,” he mused playfully. “I think I have a way we can fill the time.”

Nash made love to her sweetly, slowly, with an aching tenderness that moved her to tears. Rylie truly believed that he loved her. His actions told her so.

Then why couldn’t he say the words?

Her gut told her it was because he was about to leave her. Saying them would only make them both hurt in the long run. She also supposed it was because he was still bruised after his marriage fell apart. He had to know if he said the words, they would be committed to one another. Not for a day. A month. A year. But for a lifetime. That was what she wanted. A lifetime with Nash Edwards.

And he could never give her that.

He brought her to an orgasm that ripped through her, her body shuddering violently at the intense pleasure. He also came and then collapsed atop her, brushing soft lips against her cheek, even as his stubble rubbed against it.

Nash rolled so that they lay on their sides, facing one another. The intensity in his gaze almost frightened her.

“Nash?” she asked uncertainly.

He brushed her hair from her cheek and then rested his palm against it. “Do you know how I feel about you, Rylie?” His gazed pinned hers. “Even though I write song lyrics, in life, I tend to be a man of few words. I’ve always let my actions do the talking for me. But the time has come when I know words are necessary if we’re going to take our relationship to the next level.”

“What are you saying?” she asked, her heart slamming against her ribs.

“What I’m saying is that I love you, Rylie. I am in love with you. I can’t see living if you aren’t a part of my world.”

Tears spilled from her eyes, ones of joy, especially since she had never believed she would hear them from him.

“I love you, too, Nash. So much it is like a physical ache.”

He kissed her tenderly, the sweetest kiss they had ever shared.

Breaking it, he said, “I told you before that I married Luna without loving her. That was a disservice to her—and me. But the stars are shining down on us, darlin,’ because I now understand what true love is. I’ve sung about it but had never known it. Until now. With you.”

He kissed her again, and Rylie held tightly to him.

“Is this a dream?” she asked, after he broke the kiss.

“It’s no dream. This is our reality. I want to marry you, Rylie Robinson. I want to be your lover and best friend. I want to have children with you—and I want to raise them here in the Cove. Where we have friends who are our chosen family.”

Rylie burst into sobs, so loud that they drowned whatever words he was speaking to her. Nash must have realized that and stopped talking, merely holding her in his arms and kissing her hair until her sobs subsided.

“What do you say, darlin’? Do you want to stay together forever?”

“I love you so much, Nash. It’s as if I was sleepwalking through life until you arrived. Now, everything is sharper. Clearer. Cleaner. I feel such love for you pouring through me, and I believe I can do anything with you by my side.” She hesitated. “Are you certain you want us to live in Oregon and not Tennessee? It’s been your home for so long.”

“Home will always be where you are, Rylie. I came here to lose myself—and I found myself instead. I found you. And love.”

He kissed her again. “I know my life up until now has been fairly nomadic, but I’m eager to put down roots. I will keep recording. What we’ve accomplished this past week is fantastic. I truly believe with another week of rehearsal and recording, we’ll have the album in the can, or at least the bones of it. That is unheard of in this business to work so quickly. The mixers and engineers will need to work their magic, of course, before it’s in the final format.”

Nash kissed her brow. “As far as touring goes? I don’t know where that fits in with you and me.”

“I would never ask you to give up touring, Nash. You yourself have shared with me how performing makes you come alive. I couldn’t rob you of that experience. It would poison the well of our love.”

“There has to be a compromise,” he said. “I’ll get together with Chuck and Phil and figure it out. It may mean doing mini-tours, touring solidly for two or three months at a time, with long breaks in-between. Or it could mean touring only on weekends.” He gazed at her, his love now evident to her. “Would you consider going with me to different cities? I know you usually work on weekends, but Antiques and Mystiques has been doing well lately, and you are the boss. You’ve already hired Tracy Thomas in addition to Jerry. Maybe you could hire an additional clerk? Or promote Jerry to store manager. You could still be the one to hit the auctions and estate sales and deal with longtime clients, while he runs the day-to-day part of the business.”

“That sounds very doable. Let me say this. If you go on tour, I want to be by your side. Although my adult identity has been wrapped up in Antiques and Mystiques, I can step away from it. Whether that means allowing someone else to run it for me or to sell it outright and walk away, it will be something I’ll need to think about—and talk over with you. I know it’s my decision in the long run, but I will always want your input.”

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