“That’s ridiculous,” sputtered Dad.
“No, he’s right,” I said. “But I guess everyone has to grow up sometime.”
Dad’s eyes turned even colder. “Being an adult is not about turning your back on your responsibilities.”
“Following in your footsteps is not my responsibility,” I said, refusing to back down. The days of my doing that were gone. “I can’t be you. I’m sorry I wasted so many years and so much of your money figuring that out.”
“We only want what’s best for you,” said Mom, voice thick with emotion.
“I know you do. But that’s for me to decide now.” I turned back to my husband, keeping a firm hold on his hand. “And my husband isn’t going anywhere. You need to accept that.”
Nate walked around the table, gave Mom a kiss. “Thanks for dinner.”
“One day,” she said, looking between the both of us, “when you have your own children, then you’ll understand how hard it is.”
Her words pretty much wrapped things up. My dad just kept shaking his head and huffing out breaths. I felt guilty for disappointing them. But not bad enough to return to my former ways. I’d finally reached an age where I understood that my parents were people too. They weren’t perfect or omnipotent. They were every bit as fallible as me. It was my job to judge what was right.
I picked up my handbag. It was time to go.
David nodded to both my parents and escorted me out. A sleek new silver Lexus Hybrid sat waiting by the curb. It wasn’t a big SUV like the ones Sam and the other bodyguards used. This one came in a more user-friendly size. Behind us, Nate and Lauren climbed into his car. Nothing much was said. Mom and Dad stood in the house’s open doorway, dark silhouettes care of the light behind them. David opened the door for me and I climbed into the passenger seat.
“I’m sorry about my father. Are you upset?” I asked.
“No.” He shut my door and walked around to the driver’s side.
“No? That’s it?”
He shrugged. “He’s your dad. Of course he’s going to be concerned.”
“I thought you might have been running for the hills by now with all the drama.”
He flicked on the indicator and pulled out onto the road. “Did you really?”
“No. Sorry, that was a stupid thing to say.” I watched my old neighborhood passing by, the park I’d played in and the path I’d taken to school. “So I’m a college dropout.”
He gave me curious glance. “How does that feel?”
“God, I don’t know.” I shook my hands, rubbed them together. “Tingly. My toes and hands feel tingly. I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“Do you know what you want to do?”
“No. Not really.”
“But you know what you don’t want to do?”
“Yes,” I answered definitely.
“Then there’s your starting point.”
A full moon hung heavy in the sky. The stars twinkled on. And I’d just upended my entire existence. Again. “You’re now officially married to a college dropout who makes coffee for a living. Does that bother you?”
With a sigh, David flicked on the indicator and pulled over in front of a neat row of suburban houses. He picked up one of my hands, pressing it gently between both of his. “If I wanted to quit the band would that bother you?”
“Of course not. That’s your decision.”
“If I wanted to give all the money away, what would you say?”
I shrugged. “You made the money, it’s your choice. I guess you’d have to come live with me then. And I’m telling you now, the apartment we’d have on my salary alone would be small. Miniscule. Just so you know.”
“But you’d still take me in?”
“Without question.” I covered one his hands with my own, needing to borrow a bit of his strength just then. “Thank you for being there tonight.”
Little creases lined his perfect dark blue eyes. “I didn’t even say anything.”
“You didn’t have to.”
“You called me your husband.”
I nodded, my heart stuck in my throat.
“I didn’t kiss you at the studio today because it felt like there was still too much up in the air between us. It didn’t feel right. But I want to kiss you now.”
“Please,” I said.
He leaned into me and I met him halfway. His mouth covered mine, lips warm and firm and familiar. The only ones I wanted or needed. His hands cupped my face, holding me to him. The kiss was so sweet and perfect. It was a promise, one that wouldn’t be broken this time. We’d both learned from our mistakes and we’d keep learning all our lives. That was marriage.
His fingers eased into hair and I stroked my tongue against his. The taste of him was as necessary to me as air. The feel of his hands on me was the promise of everything to come. What started out as an affirmation turned into more at light speed. The groan that came out of him. Holy hell. I wanted to hear that noise for the rest of my life. My hands dragged at his shirt, trying to pull him closer. We had some serious time to make up for.
“We have to stop,” he whispered.
“We do?” I asked, in between panting breaths.
“Sadly.” He chuckled, nudged the tip of my nose with his. “Soon, my luckiest fucking girl in the world. Soon. Did you really have to throw the fucking in there?”
“I really did.”
“Your parents looked about ready to have kittens.”
“I’m so sorry about the way they treated you.” I ran my fingers over the spiky short dark hair on the side of his head, feeling the bristles.
“I can deal.”
“You shouldn’t have to. You won’t have to. I’m not sitting by and—”
He shut down my rant by kissing me. Of course it worked. His tongue played over my teeth, teasing me. I undid my seatbelt and crawled into his lap, needing to get closer. Nobody kissed like David. His hands slipped beneath my top, molding to the curves of my breasts. Thumbs stroked my nipples. The poor things were so damn hard it hurt. Talking of which, I could feel David’s erection, pressing into my hip. We kept our lips locked until a car full of kids went by, horn blaring. Apparently our makeout session was somewhat visible from the street despite the fogged-up windows. Classy.
“Soon,” he promised, his breathing harsh against my neck. “Fuck, it’s good to get you alone. That was intense. But I’m proud of you for standing up for yourself. You did good.”
“Thank you. You think we’ll understand when we have kids, like my mom said?”
He looked up at me, his beautiful face and serious eyes so wonderfully familiar I could cry.
“We’ve never talked about kids,” he said. “Do you want them?”
“One day. Do you?”