I’d been embarrassed, a little resentful. Theo’d been shy. He was always reluctant to go places where he thought he’d be recognized, even after leaving Riven. And he knew I didn’t like to get caught in the spotlight. He’d offered not to come with me, that first time. But as we walked up and down the rows of produce, local meats, fresh eggs, and flowers, I’d felt a sense of calm wash over me.
When Theo bought an armful of flowers, the blooms bright and delicate against his black shirt and hair, the woman had smiled at him, told him the flowers he’d picked would look beautiful together, and I’d seen the surprise on his face, and the delight.
“You think so?” he’d asked her, eyeliner-smudged eyes wide and sincere. “I’ve never bought flowers before so I wasn’t sure.”
That was how it had started. Now Theo bought flowers every week, and Lucy and Barry were protecting our privacy when someone tried to intrude upon it. It felt like a new life.
At home, I put away the groceries as Theo replaced his weekly flower arrangements. He picked through last week’s bouquets, adding whichever blooms still had some life in them to the new arrangements. He couldn’t bear to throw away any that still had beauty to offer.
It was something I had grown to love and admire about him over the past six months, when he’d basically moved in here. Theo saw potential in everything. Hope in everything. Even though it had taken him a while to believe that he deserved attention, admiration, love, he had so much of it for others—even for flowers—that it took my breath away.
At first it had been hard. Without the rudder of Riven to steer his life, Theo was uncertain about everything. He wasn’t used to making his own decisions, and it was hard for me to know I was making decisions for anyone else, since I hadn’t always made the best decisions for myself. But we’d learned to trust each other and we’d learned to trust ourselves, and after the first month or so that he was here, we’d found a balance that worked for us. Turned out, that rudder had been an anchor, and once he cut the tie, he soared. We both did.
At any time of the day or night, we were working on music, and the farmhouse became littered with pieces of lyric-scribbled paper, extra guitars and keyboards, cords and amps, and another computer with editing software.
I recorded Rhys’s album with him, and with an absence of nearly two years from a studio, it felt like I was taking a deep breath after living underground. I knew then that I would be recording my own songs again. And I’d been working on them ever since. I was almost ready. Almost.
It was different than my other work. Theo said it sounded like someone writing about things that cut deep but from a distance. But, of course, Theo also said I was the best musician in the whole world, so. I hadn’t told him yet, but I was going to use the photo he took of me in Nola, leaning against the wall outside Wolf’s Howl, for the cover.
“Hey, baby, can you help me?” Theo called from the bedroom. I’d been standing in the kitchen, looking out the window at our garden in kind of a trance after I finished putting the groceries away.
I walked to the bedroom to see what Theo needed help with, and my breath caught at the sight of him naked on our bed, stroking himself. His beauty sometimes broke me when I looked at him. Against the white sheets, his hair was a spill of ink, his tattoos curving around the lines of muscle and bone tantalizingly. His lush mouth was soft, and his gorgeous eyes heavy-lidded with desire. He stroked his erection slowly, and reached the other hand out to me.
“Hi,” he said, when I sat down on the bed and took his hand, kissing his palm.
I bent down and kissed his mouth. The love I saw in his eyes was overwhelming. Sometimes it caught me unawares, and nearly choked me. With how lucky I was. How unbelievably, gut-clenchingly lucky.
“Hi. What can I help you with,” I murmured.
“I missed you,” Theo said, eyes dreamy. “I want you.” Then he gave me the private smile that was just for me.
“Yeah?”
He nodded and guided my hand between his legs as he watched me.
“What do you want?”
“I want you to touch me. I want to look at you. I love you,” he added, eyes fluttering shut as I ran my hand up the delicate skin on the inside of his thigh.
“I love you,” I breathed, and then I took him apart.
I touched him everywhere, until he was pushing his hips off the bed and begging me with mouth, eyes, body, to give him what he needed. My own need was huge, but I loved him like this, completely bare while I was clothed, giving him his pleasure and delaying mine until the last possible moment, when it felt like equal parts reward and relief.