“Fuck you,” I muttered, and sat back up in the chair. “I need something to eat, that’s all.”

He turned back to the saleslady who’d moved to stand behind the jewelry counter. “Excuse me? Do you have some candy here or maybe a power bar?”

He focused back on me and let out a sigh. “Okay, here’s what I think: You came to Hollywood to settle down … for roots … V is your roots, man.”

I shook my head. “I can’t even look at her without wanting—fuck, I don’t know—more. But all I can think of is Emma’s lies. Not so much Emma herself, because I’m over her—but still, she lied to me and V lied to me. And then there’s Geoff. I keep thinking she’s going to up and run back to him. Go back to New York. Especially now that her music is back.”

“Dude, you’re the glue that holds us all together. You. We all gravitate toward you. Me, Mila, your fans, even Blair. V is no different. Give her a chance.”

The saleslady pushed a power bar in my hands and I tore it open and inhaled it.

I was losing it, and I knew why.

I didn’t want to be without V in my life.

Her music had sucked me in from the beginning, wedging into my bones, but it hadn’t been until the night at the canyon that my heart had connected the dots. We’d been extraordinary. And it wasn’t just the sex. I got her; I saw straight through her grief to the beautiful part of her that was aching to emerge. Her darkness had called to me, her music had enthralled me, but it was her soul that was mine.

Was that love?

IT WAS MIDNIGHT and V still wasn’t home.

She’d yet to return from her night out with Mila. I’d called her earlier to see if we could watch a movie, and maybe I’d be able to talk to her, but she’d already had plans—which is how I found myself dog-sitting for Tater at her house. Spider had dog-sat the last time they’d gone out. He hadn’t been happy about it either, us at home while they partied at the clubs.

I sat out on her patio lounge chair while Tater slept on my chest.

My phone pinged. Mila kept sending me texts and photos of them out at some club. Pics of V chugging tequila. Pics of her twerking with some beefy looking dude. I was getting angry.

Half an hour later, I heard a car pull up, so I stood and walked around to the front of the house, still holding Tater. She climbed out of her car looking dangerously sexy in a red mini skirt and heels. I bit back a snarl imagining male hands on her tonight.

“Aw, she’s asleep,” she said as she leaned over to peer at Tater’s face. “Thank you for watching her.”

“Did you have a good time?” My voice was laced with tightness.

Did she really love me or had she just said those words in the moment?

She nodded. “Yes, and I’m sorry if Mila kept texting you. She had this hare-brained idea of infuriating you and Spider into …”

Silence settled between us as her voice trailed off.

“What?” I snapped.

“Nothing,” she sighed. “Thank you for keeping Tater. Do—do you want to come inside or go sit on the patio?”

“Patio,” I said and we walked around the house and came to a stop at a table next to the pool. I sat Tater down on a seat cushion. “Look, V, there’s something I need to say.” I swallowed.

She got still, her eyes searching my face. “Yeah?”

I paced around. “Something’s wrong with me. I can’t write, play music, act, sleep. Eat. All I do is think about you.”

Her face softened. “Oh.”

My stomach fluttered with nerves. “I don’t care what anyone thinks, but I need you in my life everyday. I don’t want to wake up and not see you in my bed, V.” I leaned down to her and pushed both hands in her hair and tugged her to me. “Please give me a chance, V.”

“What about Blair? Your career?”

“I want the world to know you’re mine. I ended things with Blair.”

She looked away from me, making me antsy. Doubt niggled at me.

“I won’t stand for you messing with Geoff, V. Tell me now if you want him back.”

“No, it isn’t that. It’s Blair. She came up to me at the club earlier this week. It’s never going to be over for her.”

I kissed her softly. “Focus on us. Give us a chance, and I mean more than just a one night stand.”

She nodded and her eyes searched mine, as if waiting for something more.

“What?”

She swallowed and looked away. “It’s just—you know how I feel.”

She wanted me to say I love you.

“Love. Once I’d pushed it away. Now, I’d die without it.”

—from the journal of Violet St. Lyons

I LOVED HIM. These past weeks without him had been torture.

Did that mean I was willing to accept us when he didn’t feel the same way?

Maybe.

He caressed my face. “We can sit out here all night and talk, but I’m dying to sink into you. You owe me, you know,” he said huskily.

“Why?”

“Because I’m going to make you pay for dancing with those guys,” he said as he stripped off my slinky shirt, easing the fabric off and tossing it on the ground. He kissed my neck and then nibbled gently on my ear. “I keep picturing you in that swing with your legs spread for me.”

I moaned. “Me, too.”

“Strip for me, V.” He took a step back from me, a need so visceral in his gaze that I shivered.

“Out here on the patio? Do you have something against bedrooms?”

“It’s where we started,” he said.

I unzipped my skirt and stood before him in nothing but my heels.

His face reddened. “What the fuck? No bra and no panties tonight?” His hands clenched.

I bit my lip. “I took the panties off when I pulled up to the house.”

“Oh, you’re a naughty girl.” He sat back on a chair, eyes at half-mast, a smoldering expression on his face. “I want you to play for me just like that, V. I want to see your body when you let go with music.”

Need knifed through me. “What do you want me to play?”

“Play how you feel about me,” he said softly. “I took the liberty of getting your violin for you already. It’s on the table.”

I cocked an eyebrow. “You had this planned?”