Page 89 of Steel Beauty

A melody springs to mind, and before I can stop myself, I’m humming the chorus of one of Southern Ophelia’s biggest hits. The lyrics flow naturally, spilling out in a low murmur as I mouth the words:

I’m waiting for your heart to wake

So you will ask me to stay.

My heart is impatiently waiting around

To hear the words it’s begging you to say.

I glance at Laurelyn, my eyes wide with realization. “That was you.”

“I wrote that song about Jack Henry.” She lets out a laugh, waving a hand as if to brush it off. “It feels like another life. I stopped performing years ago. Now, I write songs for other people—and wipe snotty noses.”

Even as she downplays it, there’s a quiet warmth in her expression, a glow that speaks of pride. And a twinge of awe settles in my chest.

Jack strides across the room with an easy grin, wrapping his arms around Laurelyn and pulling her close. “This amazing, gorgeous woman doesn’t give herself enough credit. Three of her songs have already hit the top 10 this year. And let me tell you, if she were the one performing them, they’d have gone straight to number one.”

“Jack Henry,” she says with a laugh, swatting his chest lightly, her cheeks tinged with a warm flush. “Stop it. Those days are long gone.”

She turns to me, her smile softening, raising her glass in a gesture that feels more like an invitation than a toast. “Maybe we’ll give the piano a workout later.”

I tap my glass gently to hers. “Now that’s something I wouldn’t miss.”

The four of us settle around the beautifully set table, and I feel a little spoiled by the care put into every detail. The soft glow of candles and the savory aroma of the meal create a cozy, inviting atmosphere. Just as conversation begins to flow, a loud thud echoes from upstairs, drawing Laurelyn’s attention. She glances up with a knowing smile.

“I asked the babysitter to keep the kids busy upstairs so we could have a little adult time.”

Jack chuckles, pouring more wine. “She’s probably up there running triage.”

Another thud follows, paired with muffled giggles and hurried footsteps. Laurelyn shakes her head, her smile widening. “See what I mean?”

JC leans in slightly, his words dropping to a playful murmur. “It’s always like this—basically, a circus on any given day.”

Jack grins, filling JC’s glass with wine. “But you have to admit, it’s a pretty cute circus.”

Laurelyn nods in agreement. “It’s averycute circus.”

JC raises a brow, his gaze darting between them. “Sounds like you need another one to add to the fun.”

Without missing a beat, they both answer in unison, “No!” before bursting into laughter.

Jack shakes his head. “Have four of your own and then let me know if adding a fifth sounds like a good idea.”

JC chuckles. “Fair enough. I’ll take your word for it.”

We settle into the meal, and Laurelyn glances over. “Have you been able to get out and explore the city together?”

JC gives her a wry grin. “It’s tricky in Sydney. Too many eyes. You two probably understand that better than anyone.”

“What kind of things have you managed?” Jack asks.

“We’ve been to the Rabbit Hole a couple of times and took the yacht up to Newcastle for a weekend. We also went to Chloe’s restaurant—used the private dining room, of course. Honestly, we’ve spent most of our time in the penthouse.”

Jack and Laurelyn exchange an amused glance, the nostalgia practically visible in the softening of their expressions, as if they’re both replaying the early days of their story.

“Lots of eyes and wagging tongues in Sydney,” Jack says with a shake of his head. “I took L to the Sydney Opera House, and the paparazzi were shoving cameras in our faces before we even made it inside. The next day, our pictures were plastered everywhere.”

“I didn’t understand why on earth they were taking photos of us.” Laurelyn laughs, her eyes sparkling with the memory. “Oh my God, that was such a great night at the opera.”

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