Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 125213 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125213 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
“That song you were playing,” I said after a while, and I wondered if she’d started falling asleep because Mia jumped a bit when I spoke. “It’s not on the album.”
“No,” Mia confirmed, running one finger over my chest. She traced the lines of the lion tattoo I had there, her chipped nail polish making me smile.
“Why? Is it new?”
Her shoulders lifted a bit. “It just didn’t make the cut.”
“Well, it should have.”
“It’s not poppy enough.”
“It doesn’t need to be.”
“It’s too honest, too vulnerable, too… sad.”
I leaned up on one elbow then, caging her between me and the bean bag as I swept her hair from her face. Fuck, she was beautiful — hair a mess from having my hands in it, cheeks flushed, lips swollen.
“That’s exactly why I loved it.”
The corner of her mouth tilted and fell again, her eyes soft under where her brows pinched together. “You liked it?”
“It was beautiful, Mia. It reminded me of when I’d catch you playing when we were younger, when you thought no one was listening. That was always when you were at your best. It was when I got to see the real musician inside you — the one not thinking about what sells or has a snappy beat.”
“Hey, I like snappy beats.”
“I do, too,” I clarified. “I like everything you write, everything you play.” I shrugged. “I just like the honest, vulnerable, sad songs most.”
“Masochist.”
“Guilty.” I tapped her nose. “You should release it — the one you played tonight.”
“The album’s already out.”
“So? You make the rules, Mia Love. Play it as an encore song at the Garden. Tell them you weren’t sure what they’d think of it, so you kept it off the album, but now you want to share it with them. Release it at midnight after the show. And then immediately call me when it hits number one on the streaming charts and tell me I was right.”
Mia rolled her eyes. “Okay first of all, I need to record it.”
“Like you can’t do that in New York. Don’t add more to it. Just you and your piano,” I said, nodding toward the one in my living room. “That’s all you need.”
She bit her lip, eyes searching mine. “You really think I should do this.”
Not a question.
“I really do.”
She smiled then, one big enough to reveal that dimple in her left cheek that I loved so much. “I’ll think about it.”
“Good,” I said. Then, I groaned as I stretched and maneuvered to stand, pretending like an old man as I cracked my back and Mia laughed. “Now, come on. Let me get my girl cleaned up.”
We took a long, hot shower together — one that was very difficult not to turn into another round as Mia let me lather her up and wash her. But I could see in her eyes that she was exhausted, so I behaved myself, even though there was a very big part of me wondering if this would be the only time, if the spell would be broken in the morning.
She didn’t seem angry with me anymore, but we hadn’t talked about it. I still had no idea where her head had been these last couple of months.
So I definitely had no idea what tomorrow would bring.
When I was finished in the shower, I kissed Mia’s wet hair, leaving her to shower alone and take a moment to herself while I cleaned up in the living room. I unzipped the cover to the bean bag and threw it in the wash, smirking to myself at how Mia had made jokes about all the girls I’d fucked on it and then, in reality, she’d been the only one.
By the time she ambled out of the shower wrapped in one of my large bath sheets, I’d made us both a tray of snacks from my hurricane prep food stash, and we ate them with sleepy smiles before I grabbed one of my t-shirts for Mia to sleep in.
She curled up in my bed without me having to ask, and I took that as a win.
But when I slid into the expensive sheets with her, wrapping her up in my arms and pulling her flush against me, I didn’t feel comforted. My mind raced, heart jackhammering in my chest the more I thought about asking her what this meant, and then chickened out every time. When I finally found the balls to say something, my voice was weak, quiet.
“Mia?”
No response.
“Mia,” I said again, leaning up enough to peek at her face.
She was sound asleep.
I did my best to follow her lead, knowing all my questions would have to wait for the morning sun.
King of Fragile Egos
Mia
Everything moved at hyper speed once the sun broke through the clouds the next morning.
My phone was ringing from down the hall at the same time Aleks’s began to buzz on the table. We broke away reluctantly from where we were snuggled in his giant bed, but Aleks kept a hand on my thigh while he checked his phone.