Page 56 of Dirty Lyrics
It was perfect.
Not because it was polished or choreographed or some fairytale happily-ever-after moment, but because it was raw. Real. Us.
Every scar, every mistake, every secret we’d dragged into the light was there between us, and still—we fit.
We burned.
It was more than sex. More than lust. It was inspirational.
Because if we could survive everything—the lies, the tabloids, the shadows of the industry, our own fears—and still find this fire together?
Then maybe love wasn’t just a dream. Maybe it was the truth we’d been writing toward all along.
And with Rico’s arms wrapped tight around me, his voice a low growl in my ear, I knew I’d never run from it again.
We have a party to go to tonight.
It’s the unveiling of the new song and the video that goes with it, and I’m so excited I can hardly sit still. It feels like the beginning of something huge—like all the chaos, all the pain, all the sleepless nights have led us right here.
Lucy and Balor are hosting it at their place in Verona. I’m excited to see them. They’ve been wonderful these last couple of weeks—intense, yes, but warm too. Protective.
It’s funny how quickly they’ve become part of our world, and I only hope this friendship and partnership keeps growing. Because for once, the people around us feel like allies instead of wolves.
My husband is out right now, handling last-minute things before we leave for the evening, so it’s just me in our condo.
I walk slowly from room to room, taking it all in, and I can’t help but note the order I’ve made out of the chaos that was Rico’s decorating style since he moved in.
See, my man? He’s a lot of things. Brilliant. Passionate. A musical genius. A sex god.
But when it comes to neatness and interior design? A total disaster.
I grin as I fluff the floral patterned pillows I just bought for the new dove-gray leather sofas we picked out together.
It’s a little touch of softness against his sleek, masculine taste—our compromise.
Our home, even if it’s just for now.
He keeps saying this place is temporary. That he wants to build a big house in Montclair someday. A forever home.
But that’s the future. Right now, this condo is close to the studio and perfect for what we need.
My hand goes to my belly, curved and steady beneath my palm.
Our little boy. Growing so fast.
Rico swears he’s destined to play soccer because of how much he kicks—strong and relentless.
I laugh every time he says it. I don’t mind what he does.
Soccer, painting houses, writing songs, cooking.
It doesn’t matter. As long as he’s healthy. As long as he’s happy.
My thoughts drift, warm and content, until a sharp buzz from the intercom startles me.
I blink, grin, and move toward the panel to answer. The building has its own security, but ever since we partnered with Balor and Lucy, Sigma International guards have been stationed with us around the clock.
The thought soothes me a little. We’re safe here.
