Best Friends Forever

“What do you say?”

“I guess we should give the people what they want,” I laugh, kissing him quickly before he sets me back on my feet.

“What should we sing?” I ask into the mic, waiting for the suggestions to come flying at us, but Ian shakes his head and holds his hand up to the audience.

“I know just the thing.”

I tilt my head at him and he grins that devil-may-care grin that shoots desire all the way to my toes. Yeah, this is how we made this baby and if he’s not careful he’s going to find himself on the way to making another.

Okay, I know that’s not how it works, but what’s wrong with practice?

“‘Emma’s Song’?” he says, naming the latest tune we’ve been working on. Of course no one knows it, no one’s heard it except the two of us. But leave it to my rock-and-roll husband to debut a new song at a secret show that’s our last performance until the baby’s born and old enough for us to leave her.

“That one’s not even finished yet,” I say into the mic for the audience’s benefit.

“Don’t you think they’d like a little window into our creative process?”

“Ian, this is a family show!”

The crowd bursts into laughter, but it’s not long before they’re cheering again, chanting for “Emma’s Song.” I sigh, shaking my head.

“Okay, but don’t judge us too harshly, it’s a work in progress,” I say, waving a stage hand out to bring me a stool. Ian gets one too, along with an acoustic guitar. He’s still rock and roll, but I’ve worked a little country into his act. It suits him, especially with this song.

He leans in to the mic and adjusts it to his new position, taking a deep breath. “This is a song we’ve been working on for our little girl. Our Emma. We can’t wait to meet you, baby girl.”

He strums the first chord and the whole crowd goes silent as Ian’s voice starts out soft and smooth. It’s not like other things he’s done. Generally, I do the melodies and he offers the edge, the rough gritty vocals that send tremors down my spine. But the first time I heard him singing softly to my belly, I knew there was something more in there. Something the whole world needed to see. The soft gooey center of the man I love more than anything in the world.

At the bridge, I join him, our voices intertwining like they’re made for each other. And after everything we’ve been through, I’m not convinced they weren’t. There’s magic every time Ian and I sing together, every time we’re on stage together. It’s a magic that doesn’t come around very often and I feel extraordinarily lucky to have it in my life.

The song is a sweet lullaby, promising our daughter that we’ll always be there for her, we’ll always cherish her, and when the world hurts her, we’ll be there to lift her back up. I know it’s silly to think she can hear or understand anything, but every time she hears her Daddy singing in that sweet voice, she goes nuts, kicking and flipping and squirming. I’m already convinced she’s going to be a dancer. Ian just hopes she’ll love music as much as we do. Not that I think there’s any chance she wouldn’t.

By the time the song ends and the lights fade, the whole club is still and quiet. My heart is filled with so much love for this man that I can hardly contain it and I desperately need to drag him backstage and do unimaginably dirty things to him.

Then the lights come back up and the crowd erupts. We thank them again, take our bows, and exit off the stage hand in hand until I’ve got him in the wings, pressed against the wall, kissing him like my life depends on it.

“I love you so fucking much,” he says, breaking away, gasping for breath. “And I promise I always will.”

“I love you too.” I grin, and kiss him again. I have no reason to ever doubt him. I know his promises are good.

Thank you for reading! On to your exclusive bonus novella, Obsessed by Zoey Oliver.

Copyright © 2018 by Zoey Oliver

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Chapter 1

“Please pick up, please pick up, please pick up!” Ayla Murray muttered softly, shifting her weight nervously from one foot to the other. When the voicemail picked up instead of her neighbor, Sam, Ayla slammed her fist down on top of the pile of packages outside the truck she was supposed to be loading.

“Shit!” she exclaimed.

Once Sam’s recorded voice was done reciting instructions, Ayla left her message. “Sam, this is Ayla, I had a favor to ask. Huge favor, actually. I’m still at work, and my roommate just called to tell me she has to leave for work soon, and our babysitter hasn’t shown up yet. I had to leave early once last week and I missed that day when Preston was sick. Anyway, I really can’t mess up this job… I’m sorry I’m rambling. Never mind. I’ll… figure something out. Bye.”

Ayla looked around, hoping an answer would appear. When none did, she wiped her nose with her sleeve and then blinked back her tears and got back to work, trying to get as much done as she could before the last possible minute when she’d have to go.

She had to leave work early. Again.