People clap me on the shoulder as I approach the stage. I hop up and Bell hands me my guitar, my simple acoustic—Stella, the guitar named after my dad’s favorite singer’s daughter, the guitar my dad gave me.

I give her a look and she shrugs her shoulders. “I may have swiped it this morning when I stopped by.”

I smile at her. “Thanks, Bell.”

Zane approaches me, taking his guitar off his shoulder, and hands me the mic. He goes over to stand behind the keyboard. Nix starts warming up and just like that, I’m on.

“Hey, everyone! Let’s do this one last time,” I say as I clip the microphone back on the stand and start playing the first eight bars in D. I scan the crowd, looking for my girl, and grin when I spot her. “One, two, one, two, three, four,” I say into the mic as I start to sing “Come Together.”

Zane joins in before the end of the first verse and during the refrain I watch Dahlia approach the front of the stage. My eyes move over her body and meet hers at the same time hers meet mine. Her smile is so wide that even if I screw up John Lennon’s masterpiece, being up here for her is all that matters. She runs her fingers through her hair as I sing the second verse. Every time I sing “shoop” I wish I was hugging her. She starts singing along and I can see her singing “me.”

When I start the guitar solo she closes her eyes as if absorbing every single note and I do the same. I open my eyes and she’s staring at me. I can feel her love. As I sing the next verse, she runs her tongue over her bottom lip and I have to bite mine to keep it together.

The second half of the song begins and I look over to the side of the stage at Xander. He gives me a nod and smiles, signaling that he accepts my decision to quit the band. I turn around to catch Garrett’s eye and then do the same to Nix. They both smile at me and I know we are all cool. I grab the mic off the stand and walk it over to Zane. “You’re on, man.”

I jam out the rest of the song on my guitar as the crowd cheers us on. When we finish, I sling it around my back knowing this is the last time I’ll be singing with these guys. We’ve spent our lives practicing and rehearsing together as we moved from garage to garage to this stage and I know that the bond we formed will always remain whether I am part of the band or not. They all gather around me and before I know it we are huddled together, even Xander is up here. The moment we break apart, Zane has a tray of shots in his hands. I’ll let myself have one drink. Garrett makes a toast and we all drink to get the lumps out of our throats. Bell and Ena, Xander’s new assistant, join in as well. Ena is doing well and Xander doesn’t seem quite so grumpy.

I hop off the stage and Dahlia runs over to me and wraps her arms around my neck so I can lift her off the ground and swing her in a circle. When I put her back down she crashes her lips to mine and threads her fingers through my hair. I want to run my hands down every inch of her body, but she pulls away too fast and places her hands on my cheeks. Her eyes flicker over my face as she examines me, like she’s looking for something.

“Dahlia, I’m good. Really, I am,” I assure her because I know she’s concerned I may be regretting my decision.

Once she’s satisfied that I’m fine, she leans in and whispers in my ear, “River Wilde, take me home now. I want you.”

I know I must be wearing the biggest shit-eating grin. “Dahlia London, I would love to take you home. I want you, too.” And I try, I really try not to gloat, but I can’t resist. I lean back in and trace the seam of her lips with my tongue before kissing her ear. “Looks like I won and you’re on coffee duty for the week.” I laugh.

Then she laughs and says, “And don’t think I didn’t notice you were drinking water all night to stay on your game.”

I just shake my head. She knows me so well.

Holding hands, we say good night to everyone. I sling my arm around Dahlia and she tucks her thumb in my back pocket. As we walk out the door together I am more than 100 percent certain that I made the right decision.

We approach my car and she says, “Mr. Lennon, my fiancé won’t like me going home with you.”

I lean over and whisper to her in my best British accent, “I bet I could kick his ass.” She laughs so hard she’s hiccupping by the time we get in the car. On the ride home we sing along to Beatles songs, neither of us faltering on the lyrics because we are both avid fans. By the time we get home I’m pretty proud of myself. I managed to stay in control and wait to have her in our bed. I actually have a surprise for her first, though.

When I send her to our room and tell her I’ll be right behind her, she looks at me like I have three heads.

“What?” I ask.

She narrows her eyes at me then heads down the hallway, throwing over her shoulder, “River, I know you’re up to something.”

I just shake my head. She knows me. I am up to something, but nothing big. Tomorrow is going to be a tough day for her so I want to shower her with my love and just be with her, letting her know she’s everything to me. We went through a rough spot. For a long time I was never sure if I would have been her first choice, and doubt shadowed me. When Ben came back that doubt no longer shadowed me—it loomed large, almost haunted me. My guilt over the things I knew—what I couldn’t tell her, what I should have told her the first time I figured it out—sent me over the edge. Every time she saw him it tore me to shreds. I wanted her to choose me but not because of what he did. When I got home that morning after I’d stormed out and read her note—I knew she’d always been mine.

The last few weeks were just as tough but for a different reason—she lost someone again and her pain rips through me. I want to make it go away, make everything right for her, but I know all I can do is be here. So I am. I’ve kept her busy, mostly delving into our new business. We’ve got the wheels in motion and I’m hoping before the end of the year to bring on our first client. Of course, my stepfather’s knowledge of the business has helped tremendously. Dahlia and I have spent a lot of time over there seeking advice and developing our strategies.

It’s amazing how well Dahlia and my mom get along, and although I know she’s not looking for someone to take Grace’s place, I think she finds comfort in their friendship and honestly so do I. She seems to need a mother figure in her life, and I get it. I’ve had Xander to help me with what was missing from my life when my father died; my mom had her sister to take care of her when their parents died, but Dahlia only had him . . . Ben. I can say his name now. I no longer view Ben as anything more than someone from Dahlia’s past and I can live with that.

Thinking about the two women who mean everything to me, I can’t help but notice how very much alike they actually are. It’s not just the tragedies they have endured, but the unconditional love they both give to those around them.

Smiling, I open the refrigerator and grab the bottle of champagne and the huge bowl of strawberries I snuck in there earlier. Then I take two glasses out of the cupboard and manage to bring it all to our room. I can hear music playing as I approach the door. It’s partially closed and when I open it my jaw drops as I step inside. She’s wearing a lacey white number slit up the front and she looks like an angel. “God, you look incredible,” I tell her, biting my lip to stop from smiling the biggest grin ever. She’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen in or out of clothes and what she’s wearing now makes me want to skip everything I have planned.

She cocks her head to the side and she breaks into a grin that takes my breath away. “Come here, so I can love you.”

Grinning back at her, she doesn’t have to ask me twice. I set my stuff down on the dresser and stride over to her. Embracing her, I run my hands down her silhouette and tell her, “You’re the most beautiful creature I have ever seen.”

She looks at me. “Creature?”

I shake my head.

“That doesn’t sound beautiful,” she mumbles.

“It is,” I whisper against her lips. I can’t even explain to her what I see when I look at her. I must look at her a hundred times a day and each time I find something else, something more beautiful, than the last time I looked. It’s not just her physical beauty that captivates me. Honestly, I don’t care if she’s wearing a ball gown or sweatpants; her beauty is all of her—it’s who she is. And I want to spend the rest of my life looking at her, pulling her to me, loving her. I will spend the rest of my life doing all of those things—of that, I have no doubt.

Sliding my hands around the small piece of fabric she’s wearing, I nip at her lip. She smiles and tries to catch my mouth with hers, but with each passing minute my body throbs with anticipation. She lifts the hem of my T-shirt, pulling it over my head and I don’t waste a second before pressing my bare skin to her. I can never get enough of her. I want her in every way. I don’t even know if she realizes how much I want her—no, not want, how much I need her.

My hands skim the lace on her backside and I press her closer to me. We’re both breathing pretty heavily by the time she steps back and bats her eyelashes. “Maybe you could offer a girl a drink before trying to seduce her.”

Joining in the fun, I say, “Why, of course. Where are my manners?”

Turning toward the dresser, I glance back and take a moment to appreciate the way her eyes watch me, the smile that lights up her face when she sees I’m watching her. I have to bite down on my bottom lip hard to remind myself I have a plan. When I pull the cork, champagne fizzes everywhere. It’s like I shook the bottle or something. Shrugging, I let it drip down my bare chest. I look over at Dahlia and her hand is over her mouth like she’s trying to stifle her laughter, which makes me laugh. As I pour the first glass, she looks at me with fire in her eyes and my insides blaze. When I pour the second glass, she bites her lip in a way that turns me on even more.

My eyes are fixed on her and before I know it the champagne overflows and spills out of the top of the glass. “I told you, bartending isn’t my thing.” We both laugh and I wipe up what I can with the T-shirt from the floor. Then after I’ve dropped a strawberry in each drink, she circles her lips with her tongue and I really think I might explode. I wedge another strawberry on the rim of each glass, because I know she likes two. Her grin widens as I do so and then she says, “Adam or John, whatever your name is, it’s not for your bartending skills that I brought you back to my place.”

With both glasses in hand, I head back her way. I thought I’d be cool with role-playing, but I have to say, I’m not. The only name I want screamed from my girl’s lips is mine. Getting as close as I can without spilling our drinks, I wedge my knee in between her legs and hand her a glass. She gasps at the contact and all I know is that we have way too many layers of clothing between us. I stroke my thumb along her cheek before softly kissing her there. “Have I told you today how much I love you?”

She murmurs, “You have, but don’t ever stop. I want to hear it again and again.”

We’re standing so close that the sound of my pounding heart can only be matched by her quickening breath. She stares at me, her hazel eyes now the darkest brown, with a look that makes me crazy with desire. Taking the strawberry off the rim of my glass, she dips it in the champagne. When she offers it to me, I take a bite then watch as she does the same. Her tongue licks the berry and then her teeth bite down in a way I think I’ve felt before. She walks over to set our glasses down on the night table and when she turns around I can’t help but stare. My pulse speeds up with every step she takes toward me. She strides from her hips—it’s the sexiest walk I’ve ever seen. When she chews on her lower lip, I want to be the one chewing on it.

When she’s close enough I try to scoop her up but she pushes me down on the bed. She doesn’t say a word as she hurriedly pulls off my boots and removes my jeans. I sit up and reach for her but she pushes me back down on the bed. I love when she thinks she’s in control.