“Thanks. Me, too.” I grip Kendrick’s palm, sideways, confirming there are no hard feelings, and Fish does the same. And then, Fish and I race out of the studio and into the cool night air.
The second I get settled into Fish’s car, yet again, I place a call to Caleb.
“What took you so long?” Caleb says in greeting.
“Is Amy still there?”
“She is. At the moment, she’s organizing my bedroom closet. Yesterday, it was my kitchen cupboards and home office. Before that, my garage, home gym, and home studio. And for three days before all that, she didn’t stop crying on my fucking shoulder. Please, Colin, get your ass over here, tell the girl you love her, and give me my life back!”
I laugh. “I’m on my way. I should tell you: you’re on speaker phone and Fish is in the car.”
“Hola, Fish Tacoooo!”
“Hey, C-Bomb. Long time, no talk.”
“Way too long.”
Fish looks at me, shocked, before replying, “I agree. Do you think you might be willing to say the same thing to Dax?”
“I’ve been talking to Amy about doing that very thing, as a matter of fact—whenever she’s taken a break from crying or ‘helping me,’ that is. Amy’s helped me look at several things from a new perspective. Don’t let her green doe-eyes fool ya. She’s a sniper.”
“She is,” I agree. “She kicked the shit out of me the other day.”
“Oh, trust me, I know. I’ve heard all about it. How’d you finally figure out Amy is here?”
“Kendrick.”
He chuckles. “Thank God. Amy made me swear I wouldn’t call you and tell you she’s here. But she never said I couldn’t tell Kendrick to tell you. Ha! What’s your ETA?”
“Fifteen minutes,” Fish supplies.
“Don’t tell Amy I’m coming,” I interject.
“Of course not,” Caleb replies. “I wouldn’t miss the look on Amy’s face when you show up here for anything.”
“So, she’s working for you now?” I ask, even though I know it’s a foregone conclusion.
“No,” Caleb says, surprisingly. “I promised Amy I wouldn’t tell you about her new job, if you called, though. So, you’ll have to ask her about that yourself.”
“I will. Right after I sweep her off her feet.”
“Please, don’t fuck this up, man,” Caleb pleads. “There’s nothing left for the woman to organize here, and I’m not wired to be anyone’s shoulder to cry on for this fucking long.”
I chuckle. “Don’t worry, brother. I’m riding in on my white horse as we speak. As a good friend of mine called it, I’m gonna grand gesture the fuck outta her.”
Thirty-Two
Amy
As I’m reaching for a pair of shoes on a high shelf in Caleb’s walk-in closet, I hear a voice behind me, saying my name. Was that Colin? My heart in my mouth, I whirl around and discover, yes, it was! He’s standing in the doorway of Caleb’s closet with Fish and Caleb a few feet behind him—and he looks gorgeous!
“Colin,” I gasp out.
He looks tentative. “You didn’t answer any of my texts or calls.”
My heart is a jackhammer in my chest. “I figured you’d find me, if you had something important to say to me.” I nod at Fish in greeting, and suddenly realize he’s holding a guitar at the ready. My jaw falls open. “Fish is here to sing ‘Fireflies’ to me?”
Colin grins. “No, sweetheart. I’m going to sing to you—but not ‘Fireflies.’ A song I wrote for you, the love of my life, with an assist from Fish.” As my jaw clanks open, Colin takes my hand and leads me out of Caleb’s closet and into the bedroom, where he deposits me on the edge of Caleb’s bed, while Caleb takes a chair and Fish stands to Colin’s side with his guitar.
I’m a deer in headlights. Colin wrote a song for me? And he’s here to sing to me? And he called me the love of his life?
“I only supplied the guitar chords,” Fish says, tuning his guitar. “Colin wrote the melody and every word. This one’s all him, Amy—straight from his heart.”
Well, that’s it. Even before Colin’s started singing, I’m already on the verge of throwing myself into his arms and telling him I love him. That I’ve been miserable without him. The embarrassing truth is that, ever since I left Colin’s house the other night, I’ve cried an ocean of tears and been wracked with regret. I was too hasty! Expected too much!
In fact, only moments ago, while organizing Caleb’s closet, I resolved to go to Colin’s house tomorrow morning, first thing, and tell him we’ll work it out. Find a middle ground. Take our time! And now, Colin is here to sing a love song he wrote for me—the woman he just called “the love of his life”? Swoon!
“This is called ‘Swoon,’” Colin whispers, a shy grin on his face.
Goosebumps. They’re erupting across every square inch of my skin!