Page 52 of The Truth of Loving You

Karaoke was blaring, and a terrible singer finished “Sweet Caroline.” The crowd had carried the song. We arrived back at the booth to smug smiles and knowing glances about what we’d been doing. I hoped my face told them they were cocky bastards, but I wouldn’t deny their assumptions. My feelings for Shane weren’t a dirty secret.

Madyson’s song came up, and she sang a perfect pitch rendition of “Boyfriend” to Shane. I might have cared if he wasn’t covered in my cum. But he was, and she could tempt him all she wanted, trying to entice him into a throuple. He was going home with me.

Soon it was my turn, and Madyson was a certified bad bitch. She had me singing Queen about having a good time tonight, and luckily, it was in my range, so I didn’t bomb. I sang to Shane about being a sex machine and an atom about to explode. His ears were my favorite shade of pink, and I had to finish this song to get my body closer to his again.

She’d picked this for me before Shane and I disappeared, unofficially announcing our new relationship. Alec was right; the woman had psychic abilities. The crowd was amped and singing along like I was a rockstar, not a mediocre voice trying not to stomp on Freddie’s memory. I bowed, and my heart stopped for forever or five seconds at the happiness on Shane’s face.

“Fitting lyrics,” Shane said, his face split into a wide grin, his bedroom eyes telling me everything I needed to know.

“A bit late, don’t you think?” I winked, and his flush agreed.

When Shane’s song came up, all the blood drained from his face. If I wasn’t sure, I might have thought all his blood had leaked out onto the floor. I grabbed his wrist. “You don’t have to do this.” He shook his head. “I’ll sing with you.”

I hated seeing him on the verge of panic. It was taking all his will to hold it back.

Shane marched to the stage, his back ramrod straight. I followed, but his glare had me second-guessing that move. I wanted to be there in case he needed me. Taking care of Shane’s needs gave me a purpose. Being the one who calmed his panic filled a void I didn’t know existed in my life.

The music started, and I instantly recognized the Sam Smith song. Shane missed the first line, turning not my favorite shade of pink but bright red. He mumbled sorry into the microphone but looked like he was counting down to restart at the next break. It was harder than it should have been to stay at the side of the stage and not go to him.

He opened his angelic mouth, and his voice knocked me backward. I stumbled over the amp cords and yelled, “Fuck yeah, sing it!”

The bar went insane. Shane could sing. He could saaang! He also had no idea. If people closed their eyes, they might think they were at an actual concert. By the time he’d finished, everyone was swaying in unison and singing to him. Madyson and Alec had gotten up and stood on the table of our booth. Shane’s humility, another reason I wanted to keep him.

Shane tripped off stage and into my arms. The lyrics to Eminem’s song from earlier were an earworm in my brain, telling me to seize everything I wanted and how there was only one shot, one opportunity to get what you want.

“I’m taking you home, right fucking now,” I said, and Shane had no complaints.

Shane lay spent and sprawled on top of me after hours of devouring each other’s bodies. I suspected the sun would be up soon. It was so peaceful lying here, listening to him breathe.

“Pretty boy, you can sing. Did you know?” I asked, tracing a finger around his shoulder blades and down his side.

“No. I’ve never sung before. I mean in the shower or humming to myself. I don’t know what I sound like.”

“If you weren’t a genius, you could make a living as a singer. Keep that in mind if you have a midlife crisis.” I squeezed his butt cheek because we both loved it.

“I’ll keep that under advisement,” Shane said into my chest.

We lay in comfortable silence for a while. “Your apartment is so comfortable. It’s minimal, but it suits you.”

Shane rolled off me and onto his side to prop himself up on an elbow so we faced each other. My body immediately chilled, and I wanted to haul him back on top of me.

“I need order, which can’t be a surprise. But I want soft and comfortable too. I spend so much time in the office with hard and masculine furnishings, so I need the opposite here.” He traced the tattoo around my pec and down my abdomen.

I glanced around the room and realized he’d been very thoughtful in picking out furniture. It wasn’t feminine but there were curves and rounded edges with plush fabric. The chair in the corner hugged you when you sat in it. He kept weighted blankets on the chair and couch for his comfort. It felt like home, a home for Shane and me.

“I never liked our Greenwich apartment,” I confessed, running my fingers through Shane’s silky hair. He froze and I rolled closer, needing him to know. “Paxton bought it as a surprise. Lisa had taken out a huge life insurance policy on her piece of shit husband and changed the beneficiary to Paxton with a forged signature. Those two had mountains of issues, but they wanted to take care of each other. Not ironic that he left her money for real estate.” Shane’s face helped me continue. He didn’t pity or judge me. “It was an amazing gift, and I felt so guilty for not wanting it or liking it.”

“Sometimes a person means well, but they actually give a gift for themselves and not the other person. They don’t fully consider what the receiver would want or need,” Shane said, and I buried my face in the crook of his bent elbow.

He had no idea how right he was. That apartment was the beginning of the problems between Paxton and me. No, not the beginning but a huge symbol of them. A multimillion-dollar symbol.

“Do me a favor,” I forced the words out, “wherever your life takes you, make sure money isn’t the goal. It’s cold and it will never be enough.”

I very much wanted to ensure Shane’s life was never cold, but I still hadn’t figured out how to be good enough for him. And I hated the idea of him chasing his goals without happiness.

Shane wrapped his arms around me, and instead of getting up and going home in the peaks of morning light, I drifted off to sleep.

Chapter twenty-eight

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