“And the rest of the band? Do they live here too?” I didn’t see any obvious signs of life when we walked in, but it is late, and one can never be too careful. I need to know how quiet I have to be.

“At first,” he nods, raking his hands through my hair to loosen the curls and feel for any missed hair pins. “We all used to. Then one by one, they went off and got married.” He chuckles to himself as if realizing he’s just committed the same offense. “It’s just me and Aiden most of the time these days. The others treat it like more of a vacation home.” He takes his time, untangling a straggler, careful not to pull. “We’re stationed in Nashville for the next few months, recording. So, it’s just you and me.”

“Well,” I say, trembling beneath his innocent touch. My throat grows thick with mounting desire. “You have a beautiful home.” I gaze at the wall of windows directly across from us overlooking the Pacific. “Can’t wait to see that view when the sun comes up.”

“We have a beautiful home,” my new husband amends. “And you’ll love it,” he promises. “It’s breathtaking.”

“Right,” I say with a terse smile, a little uncomfortable with his willingness to declare joint ownership of his vast possessions so soon. I realize he’s the one who proposed, but I can’t help feeling like I’ve somehow suckered him into this marriage.

“How long do you think it’ll take for this”—I motion between the two of us—“to stop feeling like a dream?”

He shrugs, spinning me around so we’re both facing the night sky and my back rests on his chest. His hands land on my shoulders, where he slowly and meticulously begins to knead out the tension. “I think if we give ourselves a little time and grace, we’ll fall into it naturally. And before long we won’t even remember what life was like before there was a Lyle and Sammi Livingston.”

“Sammi Livingston,” I muse, smiling back at him over my shoulder. “If only you knew how many times I scrawled that very name across the back covers of my high school notebooks.” The memory brings a smile to my face and a warm gooey feeling to my chest.

“Oh, yeah?” he says, bringing his lips to rest at the curve of my neck where it meets my shoulder.

“Mmhmm,” I moan, squirming while he peppers kisses along my nape. “Lyle…”

“Mmm?” he murmurs without stopping his ministrations.

Sweet baby Jesus, I pray heaven is even half as wonderful as this. I couldn’t dream up a better way to spend eternity.

“H—help me out of this dress,” I stammer, suddenly feverish and desperate to be free of the heavy garment.