Page 68 of Dirty Lyrics
That gets his attention. His eyes snap fully open, the haze clearing as he jerks upright.
“He’s okay? He’s here?”
“He’s here. He’s okay,” I whisper, smiling so wide it aches. I angle the swaddled newborn so Rico can see. “Meet August.”
The name settles between us, heavy with meaning.
August Rico Véliz.
Because that’s when everything changed.
When I thought I’d lost him.
When he found me again.
When we realized together we were stronger than anything—contracts, tabloids, the industry, even my fears.
“August,” Rico repeats, his voice cracking, reverent and raw.
His hand trembles as he reaches out, touching the baby’s tiny fist. “Mi hijo.”
My heart splinters and mends all at once.
“He’s perfect,” I murmur. “Just like you.”
Rico shoots me a look, sharp and disbelieving, but his eyes glisten.
He leans in close, pressing his forehead to mine, his lips brushing my hair.
“Songbird,” he rasps, his voice breaking, “you and him—you’re my whole fucking world.”
I laugh softly, kissing him back, tasting the salt of our tears.
“Don’t you forget it. But for the record? You fainted. And I’m never letting you live it down.”
His chuckle rumbles against me, low and warm. And when our son stirs between us, tiny fingers curling, I know without a doubt—this is it.
Our forever.
And then I hear it—the low, absent hum vibrating in Rico’s chest.
A new melody, raw and sweet, born right here in this hospital room. Music he writes only for me.
Because I inspire him—or so he tells me.
And I smile, because I already know just the lyrics.
Dirty, beautiful words only I can write for him.
Together, we’ll make it a love song no one will ever forget.
And we’ll keep on doing that because our love? It’s the forever kind.
And the whole world will never forget it.
But most importantly, we never will.
“I love you,” I tell him. And when he lifts his gaze and smiles at me, I can feel it.
His love. His devotion.
“I love you back, Songbird. Always.”
The end.
