Page 85 of Last Chorus

evangeline

Islip out of bed as dawn brightens the crack between curtains. Wilder’s arm curls over my absence, a small frown flickering across his brow before smoothing as dreams reclaim him.

Drawing a blanket over his shoulder, I study his peaceful face. Dark lashes twitching against golden skin, chaotic waves of hair fanning his forehead and cheek, lips a little swollen and chapped. My fingers lift to my own lips, still tender from last night, and trace the edges of my smile.

We made out like teenagers until we couldn’t keep our eyes open anymore, then stumbled upstairs and fell into bed. I can still hear his whispered, “Love you always,” right as we drifted to sleep.

Leaving him to rest, I retreat to the guest bedroom todress and brush my teeth, then head downstairs to make a cup of tea. As it steeps, I pull my phone from the charger on the counter and call Lily.

She answers on the second ring, grumbling, “I can’t wait for the day I can sleep past six again.”

“Aww, you won’t miss our morning chats?”

“We’ll move to a decent time. Like ten or eleven.”

I laugh. “I hate to break it to you, but you have another eighteen years before you can sleep in again.”

“More like twenty,” she mutters.

Grinning at the reminder of what she whispered to me at the party yesterday, I ask, “Have you told Rye yet?”

“Hold on.” A door closes in the background and her voice lowers. “No. I’m going to take another test today. Maybe it was a fluke.”

I take my steaming mug to a couch and sit, tucking my legs beneath me.

“Do you want it to be?”

“Not really, but… kind of?” She sighs. “I know it’s lame, but I wanted to get married before we had another baby.”

Inspiration strikes and I straighten eagerly. “You’ve seen Wilder’s property. The gazebo on the water? And there’s a beautiful clearing that would be perfect for a reception. We could plan a wedding in no time at all.”

There’s a small, shocked pause. “Are you serious?”

“Totally serious. Except for the doing it ourselves part. We’d definitely hire someone.”

She laughs shrilly. “And Wilder would be okay with this? You’re sure?”

“I’ll ask him today, but I’m sure he will be.” I smile to myself. “I have ways of sweetening the deal.”

Lily squeals, the sound muffled like she’s covering her mouth.

“Is that a yes?”

Another squeal. “Yes! Let’s do it. Oh my gosh, this is amazing. Can I call you later? I have to tell Rye we might be pregnant again and that we’re finally getting married.”

“Of course. Say hi to—” I laugh when I realize she’s already hung up.

“I love that sound.”

I whip my head around, a different smile blooming at the sight of Wilder turning the corner into the living room.

“What are you doing up? It’s barely seven.”

He shrugs, not answering. I’m not sure I’d hear a reply anyway, my brain fogging as I take in his bare chest and the pajama pants riding low on his hips. My eyes wander greedily, lingering on the dips of muscle cradling his ink-littered abs before dropping lower.

Pajamas beat gray sweatpants any day of the week.

“And I love it when you look at me like that,” he purrs.

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