As I grabbed my guitar from the back of the vehicle, London rounded it to meet me. “It’s so great to see Kelly bright and bubbly.”
I locked up the car, that ache intensifying at the genuine delight on London’s face. “Aye, and I know who we can thank for that.”
“Who?”
She really didn’t know? “You.”
London stumbled to a stop in the middle of the street, the breeze from the water blowing back her hair from her gorgeous face. “Me?”
“You make her feel seen. You reminded her that while her mum might have failed to show her affection, she has lots of people who love her.”
“Oh.” London’s lips twitched, her pleasure obvious. “I … well … I’m glad.”
Anticipation thrummed through me and I almost decided to abandon my plans and just tell her right there and then how I felt.
But I wanted it to be bigger than that.
I wanted London to know she was worth putting myself out there in front of everyone. For her.
Once we met our friends in the Lantern, I was surprised to feel a wee riot of nerves in my gut. Truthfully, I’d never gotten stage fright. While I wasn’t an extrovert by any means, I did enjoy performing. Usually, my preference was behind a drum with four other lads around me, but I wouldn’t have thought I’d be nervous sitting in front of my village with a guitar in hand.
It was the London part of things that made my palms a bit clammy.
The teasing and banter of our friends went over my head as I tried to remember the chords of the song I’d chosen to convey my message. I’d heard London listening to this song a few times since she’d moved in with me, and the lyrics were perfect for what I wanted to say to her.
Our friends all cheered and clapped louder than everyone else when Aodhan announced I was up next. I grabbed my guitar, shot London a meaningful look, and then took my seat in front of the mic stand. After I’d adjusted it and settled myself with my guitar, I found London through the dim light of the pub.
“This one is for … my wife.”
Forgetting everyone else, my gaze fixed firmly on the woman who had captivated me from the first moment we met, I strummed the opening chords to Marc Scibilia’s “More to This,” hoping she’d hear every word, that the moment I finished the song it would mean the moment our life together truly began …
31.London
Iwas never more grateful to Cammie for offering to film Murray. I wouldn’t have wanted to miss a single moment of this stuck behind a stupid phone.
Goose bumps covered every inch of me as Murray’s deep, gravelly singing voice filled the pub, his fingers strumming the chords to one of my recent favorite songs. But it wasn’t just his beautiful voice that gave me goose bumps; it was the way he stared at me with such feeling as he sang the lyrics directly to me. The lyrics demanded me not to tell him there wasn’t more to this, and as he sang “More to This,” he jerked his chin toward me … and I knew.
Finally, I really knew that he felt for me what I felt for him.
Heat suffused my cheeks as people glanced at me, including our friends, but I kept my gaze locked on Murray as he sang the rest of the song. My heart raced, and it was like I’d spent all day in the sun, my skin was that hot. Moreover, I experienced something I had never felt before: the state of being as emotionally turned on as I was physically.
By the time Murray got to the final chorus, everyone had stopped looking at me because they were transfixed by him. He was so tremendously talented, it was hard to believe he’ddecided to pursue a fishing company over the musician’s life. The hair on my nape had risen with the song and when he sang of promising to love me forever, I shivered, clenching my jaw against the emotion, the hope rising in me.
Listening to him was an experience I was unlikely to forget, anyway. Listening to him sing that beautiful song to me was locked inside my memory forever. Because it was another memory—of which so many included him—that had helped heal me.
As soon as he strummed that last chord and the crowd in the pub exploded in uproarious applause, I was on my feet. My knees trembled a little, my hands shaking, but I was drawn to Murray Shaw with the same intensity I had been from the start. This time, however, I didn’t struggle against the pull.
I blindly shoved my way around tables and clapping villagers to appear in front of him. There was a slight hush, but I didn’t care. I didn’t care about anything but this man.
Murray’s eyes gleamed as he lowered his guitar and stood, towering over me, so much bigger physically and yet he had one of the gentlest souls I’d ever known.
He was everything I needed and wanted.
As soon as Murray was within my grasp, I curled my fingers in his shirt and yanked him down to meet my lips.
Cheers and wolf whistles encircled us as our mouths moved against each other with a kind of desperation I’d been keeping a rein on for far too long. I felt Murray’s suppressed passion burst forth as his arms encircled me and he deepened the kiss, almost lifting me off my feet to do it.
When someone teasingly shouted, “Get a room!” Murray and I broke apart, laughing softly, our breaths mingling as we stared into each other’s eyes. The connection that existed between us from the very beginning thrummed with too much energy andheightened anticipation. It was deeper and more wanting than ever because wekneweach other now.