Page 37 of All of You

I hauled it open (it was a huge, heavy door), and there he stood, looking more handsome than I remembered him looking. Had he gotten taller? Maybe that’s because I was barefoot.

He stepped through the door and kept coming until he’d hooked his arms under mine and around my back, then lifted me up, hugging me and circling around.

Exactly the right kind of hug.

“Congratulations,” he said as he did it.

I chuckled and hugged him back as he turned and set me down.

“Thank you.” My eyes were surely twinkling and my face beaming.

“Where do you want to go?” he asked, his face full of a genuine happiness.

His gaze flickered down over me, taking in my sweats, bare feet, and the super soft unicorn T-shirt. His smile changed to a look of confusion.

“Would you mind if we stayed in?”

It would be insanity if we went out. I didn’t want to make statements, do the whole adorably overwhelmed thing. I wanted to relax and catch up with Ben and celebrate without a million eyes on my every move.

“No, of course not. It’s just… I assumed you’d want to go somewhere and toast to your success?”

I grabbed his hand and pulled him along behind me into the kitchen. “I do want to toast. I have champagne.”

I dropped his hand as we entered the bright white room and found the bottle on the fridge door. I pulled down two fancy champagne flutes and grabbed a kitchen towel. “Okay if we go to the living room?”

“Whatever you want,” he said, typically easygoing.

He followed and pulled off his coat. A huge sectional sofa with a big ottoman took up the middle of the space. On it was a large tray that allowed the ottoman to act as a table. I set the flutes, bottle, and towel there. A roaring fire lit the fireplace—one reason why this was my favorite room, especially this time of year. I hadn’t put up a tree or any decorations because I knew I’d be gone for the holiday itself, and then when I got back, it’d be January, and there was nothing worse than lingering Christmas décor when you just wanted to get on with it.

“Just toss that on the back of the couch, or wherever. Sorry I didn’t grab it from you,” I said as I saw him looking for a place to drop his jacket.

I settled into the corner of the couch and pulled the tray so I could reach. Ben sat on the cushion next to me, though not all that close, and watched as I removed the cage and covered the bottle, cork intact, with the towel. Then, very slowly, I eased the cork out, no sound but a small hiss, like the bottle took a breath, before it was out completely.

“That was ninja-level champagne popping. Or, not popping,” Ben said, wonder in his voice.

“Ah, yes. A kind of reverse party trick in that it’s completely unimpressive and not at all showy, but I learned at an early age that letting the cork pop, at least according to my father, bruises the champagne. It’s probably the most valuable thing he taught me.” I poured us both some of the golden, bubbling drink, and handed him his flute.

His smile looked warm and sweet. “To the hard work and sacrifice you’ve made to get here, to the Grammys recognizing that, and to whatever is in store next. Congratulations, Whit.”

I couldn’t speak, feeling choked up at his genuine joy for me, the real congratulations, and the realization that this was the first time I’d celebrated anything like this with someone I wasn’t paying. Technically, he was contractually obligated to me, but in the end, I knew in my gut he was here just for me.

I nodded in thanks and touched my glass to his, the light ting sounding loud in the room. We each sipped the fizzing liquid, and I grabbed a remote to turn on some music so the fire wouldn’t be our only accompaniment.

“Do you feel like you’re floating?” he asked, watching me take another drink and curl into the corner of the couch, my knees pulled up next to me.

“Sort of. It’s surreal.”

“But you won a Grammy for your first album, right? Or, more than one?”

I nodded.

“So were you expecting this? Tell the truth—did you expect it, or was it a surprise?” He eyed me, waiting for my response.

“I expected one, maybe two nominations. I didn’t expect six. I thought maybe best Country performance and maybe one for the song with Jamie since there’d been some Oscar buzz about the movie, and people had said the song had a chance, too. But not six. It’s an embarrassment of riches, whether I win a single one or not.”

He gave me a look. “Really.”

It wasn’t a question.

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