Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 68390 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 342(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68390 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 342(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
It feels like forever since he left. I can’t believe there was a time when I didn’t know his name, how wonderful he was, or how much I’d miss him when he wasn’t right here with me.
I usher him inside. “Will you sit and wait for us?”
He grins. “I’ll do one better. How about I come for a walk with you?”
My heart is galloping at a thunderous pace, and it’s all I can do to nod.
We’re pretty quiet on the walk. There’s the weight of catching up and everything that happened while Sterling was gone. The weight of three weeks and my great, overarching joy that, above all, he’s back. He’s back, and this time, it’s not for business, for his cousins, for the will, or for anything else. It’s just for me.
Okay, maybe for Beans too.
When we get back to the house, Sterling grabs the guitar case. He cracks it open and takes out the most gorgeous, worn-in, ancient, and antique-looking guitar I’ve ever seen. Think fifties here. I know he’s going to tell me who owned it, and my heart races for a different reason. Any musician, however amateur, gets excited about gorgeous instruments, but when you combine a gorgeous instrument with some history and provenance, you get bubbles. Jittery, wonderful, happy, insanely good bubbles of sheer wonderment.
“I’ll tell you all about it soon, but I want to do something for you with it first,” Sterling says.
He strums his fingers down the strings, which are perfectly in tune. I freeze. The way he’s holding it, the look on his face…I didn’t know he could play. He slips the strap—a worn, plain red band—over his shoulder, and then he starts to sing. And my god, his voice. I didn’t know he could do that either. Sing, I mean. Holy god, can he ever sing. It has all the crazy goosebumps goosebumping on my body.
It’s clear from the first line that this isn’t one of those serious love songs that get played at your wedding, but it’s going to be one I remember every note and every word of for the rest of my life.
Not only is this song not very country, it’s also not very good.
But that’s okay because I wrote it just to make you laugh.
I really hope that after this you might want to take a bath.
Not because you stink or anything. You’re like sunshine, and you smell like flowers.
My favorite time is all the hours
That we get to spend together.
Pretty sure it’s always going to be the best time, now until forever.
But if not, I want that too. The good and the bad and the in-between.
I want it with you, and I want it with Beans.
I know I’m missing a chorus and a bridge and better lines,
I know that so far, all I’ve come up with is a bunch of rhymes,
But I hope we can start again.
Will you do me the honor of not being my wife?
When the guitar goes silent, he removes it and leans it against the case and the wall. Then, he digs in the bag he had slung over his shoulder when he walked in. I know what the stack of papers is before he hands them to me.
Divorce papers.
Ha, this shouldn’t be romantic either, but the way Sterling looks at me with those wonderful brown eyes makes me all soft and gooey. He doesn’t look like most people who are getting a divorce. I mean, some people might be happy about the fact, but he’s not looking at me like he’s happy. He’s looking at me like this is the first step on our road to getting our shit together. Or forever, but using words like that is kind of big and scary and soon.
“This is how I’d like to start our real romance. By being free. No strings attached, no obligations, and no contracts. Nothing hanging over us,” Sterling says.
The papers don’t feel like a lead weight when I take them. I carry them to the kitchen table, grab a pen from the junk drawer in the kitchen that has about fifty million mismatched pens, and sit down. I know I should read through them, and I will, but right now, it feels important to put my signature on them.
“I actually think we need a witness,” Sterling says, cutting me off. “But we’ll get one. I can call Smitty to come over.”
“That makes sense. Right, okay.” I stare at the two blanks on the last page. One for me and one for him.
“My cousins already know the truth,” Sterling tells me. I try not to gasp at that. Sterling is smiling, though, so it can’t be all that bad. “They’ve known from the start, of course, which prompted all this craziness. They won’t bother you. I promise they won’t, but just in case, I’ll leave the security guy out there for a few more weeks. They’re not into haunting women or making people pay. They’ve lost. I’ve beaten them at their own game, and that’s that. It’s not fun for them anymore, so they won’t pursue it. They’ll go back to their lives. But just because I didn’t want to appear like an asshole, I did what I felt was the right thing and paid them the value of those shares. Or at least what they were worth before they became worthless overnight. They each got a hefty mother of a check in the mail. None of them have been cashed yet, but I’m sure they’ll come around, and the checks will be cashed soon.”