Page 110 of #Moonstruck

He sang the song while leaning against an actual tandem bicycle that was locked up to the fence.

The man I loved was serenading me. I wanted to fall at his feet and beg for his forgiveness. I wasn’t worthy of his song.

I couldn’t believe he was here. Singing to me. The crowd of people who had gathered around him applauded when he finished, and some of them even tried to give him some cash. I wanted to laugh as he politely refused.

“What are you doing?” I yelled down at him. My heart was in my throat, making me feel like I was going to choke. This had to be good, right? Had he finally found a way to forgive me?

“Can I come up?”

That was probably a smart move, considering how many people had stopped to take his picture or film him.

Not to mention I wanted him to come upstairs more than I wanted my next breath or my next heartbeat. “Yes! Take the stairs up to the top floor!”

My hair was in a bun, my face scrubbed clean. I so wished I was wearing something besides yoga pants and a tank top.

He knocked on the door and on my heart at the same time. I opened both to him and whatever he had to say.

“Hi.” Just hearing his voice again was enough to make me swoon.

“Hi. Come in.” I let him into our small sitting room. Like my brothers, he had to duck from the roof eaves on this level. I sat down on the tiny love seat, and Ryan sat across from me in a 1960s-style orange armchair, setting his guitar on the floor.

I greedily drank in the sight of him. He looked a little thinner, tired. Stubble lined his face; his hair was tousled. But he was still the most beautiful man I’d ever laid eyes on.

Then it occurred to me how truly impossible it was for him to be here at this moment. “You were in Los Angeles last night.”

“I was.”

“Then how are you here now?”

He rubbed his jaw. “After the fund-raiser, I got on a red-eye to come here and see you.”

It was a fifteen-hour flight. A pang of love and disbelief hit me hard, and I put a hand on my chest. “You got on a plane for me?”

“I did. Some noise-canceling headphones, a sleeping mask, and heavy sedatives were involved.”

He was too good. Too amazing. I didn’t deserve any of this. I started to cry. “I’m so sorry. So, so sorry.”

In seconds he was on his feet, pulling me up from the love seat. He held me tight, and his embrace felt every bit as good, as right, as I remembered. He rubbed my back, laying his head on top of mine, soothing me.

“I was such an idiot,” I said in between sobs. “I completely overreacted and ruined everything. I’ll never forgive myself.”

“You have to forgive yourself because I already did. A long time ago.”

I pulled back. His face looked blurry through my tears. “Then why didn’t you answer my texts?”

“I didn’t find out about those until Angie told me at my release party. After you left in New York, I sort of threw my phone against the sidewalk and left it. When I went back to get it, it was gone. So I had to get a new phone, and my security team made me get a new number. Just in case. I never got your texts.”

Blinking hard, I tried to process what he was saying. “But your release party was two weeks ago.”

He ran one hand through his hair. “This was the first opening in my schedule, and I wanted to come say what I needed to say to you in person. It wasn’t textable. I have to tell you about Thomas.”

Nothing else in the world mattered as long as he was here, holding me. “I will love Thomas. He’s a part of you.”

“Not in the way you think. Thomas isn’t my son. He’s my brother.”

Not his son? His brother? Immediately I got squicked out and wondered what was wrong with CeCe. “You mean your dad and CeCe? That’s ... totally disgusting.”

“When she found out that my dad didn’t have any money, she came up with a plan to say Thomas was mine so I would pay child support. I think she was hoping the resemblance was strong enough that I wouldn’t question her. But I had a paternity test done.”

---