Page 76 of Feuds and Interludes
It wasn’t one of the songs we’d worked on together. Did I chance taking a look?
At that moment, I heard footsteps running up the hall. I threw the notebook onto a pile of Boone’s clothes and lay back in the pillows. Yeah, like a coward.
The door flew open and Boone ran in, jumped onto the bed, and then very carefully removed his pillow from my face.
“Are you awake?” he whispered.
Twenty-Six
Boone
“Anyone ever tell you that you’re a bit of a chaos demon in the morning?”
Shane had my pillow over his face, the sheet pulled down below his navel, and his hand dramatically draped over what would be his forehead if my pillow wasn’t in the way.
I kicked my shoes off and crawled onto the bed next to him on my knees.
“I’m not sure anyone ever put it quite so adorably, but yes, I’ve been called lots of things in the morning. Annoying, obnoxious, gassy?—”
He pulled the pillow away and I loved his sleepy scowl. It was somewhat laughable, him trying to look scary when he was all soft and warm with creases in his cheek from the pillow.
“Gassy? As in?—”
“Oh, yeah. We’re not there yet in our comfort level, so you’re safe. It’s honestly better since I quit drinking but Shane! I have news! Are you awake enough for me to tell you news?”
I pressed kisses down the middle of his chest, taking time to lick his navel and blow on it.
“While you’re down there?—”
“You’re awake. If you’re thinking about sex, you’re awake.”
He shoved the pillow back on his face and let out a long, loud exhale, and then he pulled it off.“Okay. I’m awake. Speak, but at a lower decibel, please.”
“Sorry,” I whispered with a chuckle. “The twins are gone, they got flights out this morning, but they said they’re open to discussing recording with us after Rocktoberfest.”
“So, not a resounding yes,” Shane said, and he pushed himself up to sitting. “I get it. I should have talked to you about it before I brought it up.”
“It’s fine. It’ll be fine. They’ll get to know you better and we’ll come up with a business plan for them to look at, not just ‘hey, come play on ourlooovealbum.’” He gave me a half smile.
“As long as you don’t say kumbaya again.”
“Right. And I definitely won’t sing it, but Shane! I had an idea!”
I knew I was coming off a little manic, but I’d woken up in the wee hours full of thoughts and it had taken every ounce of restraint I had—which wasn’t much—to keep from pouncing on him then and unloading on him.
“What’s your idea, babe?”
“God, you’re so fucking gorgeous. You have no clue, do you?”
“The idea?” He crossed his arms over his chest and smiled for real this time, only it was that indulgent smile that let me know he was doing his best to be patient because he really did love me.
He loves me.And he’d said it last night. More than once.
“The idea! I woke up from a dream in which you and I were on TV, you know, like those interviews they do before a big movie comes out? And like the interviewers are asking probing questions.”
“You dreamed about this?”
“Yes. I think you and I should do a mini press tour before Rocktoberfest! Get people excited about our performance. Of course they’re going to ask questions about our so-called beef with each other?—”
