Page 126 of Until You Say Stay
I laugh out loud. We’ve gotten everyone together for dinner the last few nights and it’s been absolute madness in the best possible way. My parents, all of Jack’s brothers, little Chloe, Maren and Calvin. Last night I think I legitimately pulled a stomach muscle from laughing so hard at one of Theo’s stories about teenage Jack.
Me:Perfect! Can’t wait. Worth abandoning the carbonara?
Maren:BARELY. But yes. Also I’m gonna pop down in the morning for coffee but about to pass out I’m so tired
Lark:I’ll have the coffee ready. Love you!
Maren:Love you too
I’m smiling as I set my phone back down and pick up the guitar again, strumming through the verse and humming along quietly. The bridge is finally starting to work. I just needed to slow down the tempo, let it breathe for a few measures before building back up to the chorus. Sometimes the simplest fixes are the ones that take forever to figure out.
The album dropped two months ago and completely exploded on social media in ways I still can’t quite process. It’s been climbing the charts steadily, getting radio play I never dreamed of. Walter and my agent call almost daily with festival offers and bigger venue options and opportunities I never imagined when I was bartending at the Black Lantern and posting videos from my tiny apartment with terrible lighting. The tour starts in six weeks. Fifteen cities to start, all carefully coordinated around Jack’s race schedule so we actually get to see each other instead of living on FaceTime at three in the morning.
The suite door opens and Jack walks in, still wearing his Ferrari team polo from the track today. His hair is slightlymessed up like he’s been running his hands through it, and he looks tired but happy.
“Hey,” he says, and his whole face lights up when he sees me curled up on the couch. “You are a sight for sore eyes.”
He crosses the room and pulls me up into a kiss before I can even set down the guitar. It’s warm and soft and unhurried, and my entire body still lights up at his touch like it’s the first time. Every single time. I don’t think that’s ever going to fade.
“How was the track?” I ask when we break apart, still wrapped in his arms.
“Really good. Like, really good.” He guides us back down onto the couch, pulling me against his side. “Media stuff was the usual circus, but it was fun having all the brothers there. It’s been years since they’ve been able to visit me on track. They were asking about everything, wanting tours of the garage, meeting the team.”
“I’m so jealous I couldn’t stay longer.” I pout slightly, settling against him. I’d managed to be there for the first half of the day, but had to leave for back-to-back Zoom meetings with the label about tour logistics. “Stupid responsibilities ruining my fun.”
“Yeah, it’s tough being a superstar,” he laughs, pinching my side gently. I squirm and swat at him.
He shifts, getting comfortable, his hand resting on my hip. “But the best part was Chloe. Theo got there maybe an hour after you had to leave and she absolutely lost her mind over everything. She wanted to touch every single thing, asked about a million questions in approximately ten minutes. I let her sit in the car and she just about combusted with excitement.”
“Oh no.” I’m grinning because I can picture this perfectly. Little Chloe with her blonde pigtails and endless energy, bouncing around the Ferrari garage and charming everyone with her enthusiasm. “You’ve created a monster.”
“That’s completely the plan.” He looks way too pleased with himself. “I warned Theo ages ago that she’s going to be a racing menace by the time she’s sixteen.”
“Theo is going to kill you for encouraging this.”
“Theo knew exactly what he was getting into when he decided to let me be her favorite uncle.” He pulls me in closer. “Come here. It’s been seven hours since I’ve seen you, which is seven hours too long.”
I curl up against his side automatically, fitting perfectly into that space between his arm and his chest like I was designed for it. My head rests right over his heart and I can hear it beating, steady and strong. This is my favorite part of any day, regardless of where we are or what we’re doing. When everything slows down and gets quiet and it’s just us. No cameras, no schedules, no obligations. Just this.
“Maren confirmed dinner for tomorrow night,” I say, playing with the hem of his polo, running the fabric between my fingers. “Eight o’clock. That steakhouse she and Calvin were going on and on about last night.”
“Perfect. Calvin brought it up again today at the track, said it was supposed to be an experience.” His hand finds mine, fingers lacing together automatically in that way they always do now. “So we’re really doing it? Telling everyone?”
I look down at the ring on my finger. The engagement ring that’s been living there for two months now, hidden from everyone except Maren and Calvin. Maren sniffed it out immediately even over FaceTime, which thank goodness because keeping it from her would have been completely impossible. She knows me too well. Tomorrow we’re telling everyone else. We wanted to do it in person, all together, with both of our families around us.
“Yeah,” I say, twisting the ring slightly. “I’m ready. Are you?”
“Definitely.” He squeezes my hand. “I could barely hold it in today with everyone at the track. Almost slipped up like three times.”
“Me too, it’s been killing me. I almost told my parents this afternoon when I was playing them the new songs, but I held strong so we could do it with the whole family tomorrow.” I laugh, thinking about how my mom’s going to react. She’s going to completely lose it. “It’s going to be so chaotic.”
Jack laughs. “Your mom’s going to cry before we even finish the sentence.”
“Immediately. Like the second she realizes what we’re saying, the waterworks start.” I grin. “And Maren’s going to scream loud enough to get us kicked out of the restaurant.”
“Absolutely,” he agrees. “Security will be involved.”
We sit there quietly for a moment, comfortable and easy in that way we’ve gotten after a year of being together. The kind of quiet that doesn’t need to be filled with words because we’re both just content to exist in the same space.
