Playing For Keeps (The Alpha Brotherhood #3)(43)
Author: Catherine Mann

Celia thrust out her hand with a water bottle, their fingers brushing.

Sparks flying as always.

Malcolm halted in his tracks. “You’re here.”

“Where else would I be?” she said simply. She didn’t bother weighing her words to preserve her pride. What a silly emotion anyway. “I love you, so I’m here.”

The stage manager covered his grin.

Malcolm clasped her arm and guided her away—the stage manager’s smile quickly shifting to panic as Malcolm tucked her in a private corner of storage containers.

“Celia, did I hear you right?” He set the water aside, his focus solely on her.

“I meant every word, and I’m sorry I didn’t say it earlier instead of running.”

He hauled her close and held her tightly. “Oh, God, Celia, I love you, too,” he whispered in her hair. “I always have.”

Although she knew that already. She’d heard it in his voice with every word he sang. Still, it was so very good to hear him say it plainly.

He angled back, cupping her face. “I’m sorry I let so many years go by without reaching out to you. I let pride get in the way of us having a chance at fixing the past, of building a future. And most of all, I apologize for not trusting you now, for not listening to what you want for your life. For not believing what’s right in front of me.”

“What might that be?” She skimmed the overlong lock away from his forehead.

“You fascinated the hell out of me eighteen years ago. But you absolutely mesmerize me now. You are an incredible woman, stunning, independent. And so damn giving I can’t figure out what I did to deserve this second chance with you.”

The pounding of the audience stomping the floor for another song was nothing compared to her heartbeat in her ears. “It’s time we both believe and trust that we deserve to be happy. We deserve a future together.”

“Darlin’, I do like the way you think.” He sealed his mouth to hers, a sure and perfect fit. He finished with a kiss on her nose before he rested his forehead against hers. “What would you say to my retiring?”

The stage manager hovered, but Malcolm waved him off.

“From Interpol? I know what Adam Logan did hurt you—”

He shook his head. “That’s not what I meant. What if, after this tour, I retired from the stage.”

“I’m…stunned.”

He searched her eyes. “Good stunned or bad stunned?”

“I’m just surprised. I thought you lived for your music.” She pointed toward the stage, the audience still on their feet applauding for their encore. “They live for your music. And tonight, the heart you put into your songs propelled you to another level.”

“Celia, it’s about you. It’s always been about you. I’ve been chasing success to prove something to your father, to you—to myself—that really doesn’t matter. I’ve learned so much from you these past several days… I want to compose music, and I have the financial luxury of never working again if I choose.”

Wow, he really meant it. This wasn’t some half-baked idea. He’d found his direction. And the fact that he attributed that to her meant more than she could say.

“Malcolm, your fans are going to grieve.”

“There are plenty of singers more than ready to step into any void I might leave on the charts.”

“You’re really serious.”

“Absolutely. I was approached not too long ago about writing a score for a movie, a sprawling postapocalyptic saga with an edgy vibe of modern-day meets classical—Adam advised me not to…” He hung his head briefly, then drew in a deep breath, meeting her eyes again. “I can do that anywhere, even in Azalea.”

“Or there and here,” she offered in compromise. “We could live in Azalea and London. I could still teach privately, work on a series of music books for students.”

“That sheet music I saw in your office the first day…”

“Sounds like we’re building a plan, together. And we can fine-tune the details later, because right now, you have a concert to finish.”

His eyes glinted with an idea. “What do you say we give them their encore?”

Laughing, she rolled her eyes. “They’re calling for you.”

“Crazy, I know, but I don’t want to let you go.” He reached for a guitar. “Maybe you could play since I can’t. We could sing together, like we used to. We can be a team, you and I.”

Without hesitation, she hooked her arm in his and let him escort her out onto the stage. The crowd went wild at the sight of her. And when Malcolm took her hand as she settled on the bar stool, the crowd held their breath in anticipation. Celia looked out at the audience and saw his mother beaming from the front row. Celia smiled back before settling the guitar in her lap and turning to Malcolm.

Sharing a microphone with him, her heart in her eyes, she strummed the opening chords to “Playing for Keeps,” the notes committed to memory years before. The melody was already a part of her heart.