Joel smirks, smug.“That’s my girl.”
My heart full-on beams at that sentence.God, I’m so toast.
I shove at his chest, but he just laughs, catching my hand, threading our fingers together.
And—damn it.He’s right.
I reallydidsign up for this.
First, when I was a dumb, love-sick teenager.And now—when I actually know what I’m saying yes to.
And I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.
Epilogue
JOEL - TWO MONTHS LATER
Two months on the road, and I swear to God, I’m more in love with this woman than ever.
Which is annoying.
Because I was already at the maximum legally allowed amount ofin love,and now she’s just out here being all hot and brilliant and making me question everything I thought I knew about limits.
Honestly, I figured there was some kind ofcapon it—like, therehasto be limit before my heart just gives the fuck out.Right?
But no.Apparently, loving Anna is like a never-ending encore—just when I think I’ve hit the peak, another wave ofholy shit, she’s everythingknocks me sideways.
Funny thing—I don’t think she has any idea.
She doesn’t see how every little thing she does wrecks me.Like the way she scrunches her nose when she’s focused.The way she teases me like it’s her life’s mission tohumbleme.The way she pulls me into her space like she forgot she’s been keeping me at arm’s length for years.
She’s been with me the whole tour and it feels fucking amazing.
Every night, I step onto a new stage, hear a new crowd screaming my name, and feel that rush of energy vibrating through my bones.
It’s what I live for.
But nothing—and I meannothing—compares to waking up next to Anna every morning.
She’s in every piece of my life now.My hotel room, my dressing room, my damnguitar casesbecause she’s always leaving her stuff in them.(”It was just one time,” she argued.No, it wasn’t.)
I love it.I loveher.
And the scariest part?
It feelseasy.
Like this was always meant to be our life.
And the more I watch her, the more I see it—the music still lives inside her.
I see it in the way her fingers drum against her thigh during soundcheck, like she’s itching to pick up a guitar or settle onto the piano bench.In the way she hums under her breath when she thinks I’m not paying attention.
But she’salwaysbeen music.
She might think she’s all code and logic now, but that’s not her.At least, notallof her.Not the full, complete picture.
I remember what it felt like to watch her play all those years ago—to see her lose herself in the sound, in the moment.Shelit upon stage, and now?