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Book online Ā«Falling Into Love with You (The Hate-Love Duet Book 2) Rowe, Lauren (read aloud TXT) šŸ“–Ā». Author Rowe, Lauren



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palms. ā€œLaila Fitzgerald, if Iā€™m ever so much as cranky toward you, if Iā€™m ever even remotely close to being an asshole in your presence, ever, please, please, say ā€˜Buckley multi track stemsā€™ and I promise on my life Iā€™ll instantly stop whatever shitty or immature thing Iā€™m saying or doing, drop to my knees, and kiss your feet.ā€

She makes an adorable sound of pure joy. ā€œIā€™m gonna hold you to that.ā€

ā€œAnd rightly so.ā€

We kiss again. But, suddenly, Laila says, ā€œOh! Thereā€™s one more gift you need to open.ā€

ā€œNo. Stop. No more.ā€

ā€œThis one is a small token. It cost me approximately twenty dollars.ā€

She grabs the book-sized wrapped gift from the corner of the bed, and hands it to me. ā€œI had this made for you when we were in Chicago. But I decided to wait a little bit to give it to you.ā€

My heart thumping, I open the wrapping paper to find the inside of an old birthday card, given to me by Mimi on the first birthday I spent with her. My thirteenth. Lailaā€™s gotten the card framed behind glass like itā€™s an exquisite work of art. Which it is, to me.

The handwritten note on the card from Mimi reads:

      My dearest Adrian,

Happy 13th birthday, my love. I thank God everyday he brought you to me, so you could light up my life like a shooting star. Whenever you get frustrated or angry, if youā€™re feeling like the world is against you, take a deep breath and remember youā€™re never going to be alone again. Youā€™ve got me now. And Iā€™m not going anywhere. Even when Iā€™m gone from this earth, my love for you will remain. Youā€™re the light of my life, Adrian. I love you, forever and always.

Love,

Mimi

Thirty-One

Laila

One month later

Itā€™s around nine in the morning on my twenty-fifth birthday. Iā€™m sitting at the baby grand in the corner of the living room while Savage sleeps upstairs. For the past hour or so, Iā€™ve been working on a song for my third album that came to me in a dream.

Ever since I got back from Mexico a month ago, and Savage and I shared that incredible, magical night, during which we must have said ā€œI love youā€ to each other a thousand times, Iā€™ve been flooded with musical inspiration. All of it, about love. Or if not that, directly, happiness and joy. And itā€™s no surprise, considering how great everything has been going in my life. Not only with Savage, but with the show, too. When it started airing, the ratings hit record numbers and never dipped. Which, thankfully, has insulated Savage and me from any more meddling from Nadine. In fact, sheā€™s left Savage and me alone to be happy and authentic on-camera, exactly the way she said sheā€™d do when she called me in Chicago. And now, I canā€™t write one of my usual ā€œfuck you!ā€ kind of songs to save my life.

ā€œHappy birthday,ā€ Savage says, entering the living room, and I quickly stop playing the song I was working onā€”the passionate love song about Savage that came to me in my sleep.

When Savage reaches me, he kisses me in greeting and then makes me scootch over on the piano bench so he can join me. ā€œThe big two-five,ā€ he says, settling himself next to me. ā€œI should have gotten you a walker for your birthday.ā€

ā€œYou didnā€™t? Darn.ā€

Savage tickles the ivories playfully. ā€œNope. Unfortunately, all I got you was a baby grand, just like this one, thatā€™ll be delivered to your place when weā€™re booted out of here in a few weeks.ā€

I gasp. ā€œNo.ā€

Savage grins. ā€œHappy birthday, baby.ā€

Squealing, I hug him and thank him profusely, and we talk about my exciting gift for several minutes. ā€œSo, hey,ā€ I say, ā€œspeaking of us being booted out of here in a few weeks.ā€ I take a deep breath. Iā€™ve been wanting to broach this topic with Savage for a few weeks now. Heā€™s told me in the past he hates feeling ā€œtied downā€ or ā€œlocked in,ā€ but weā€™ve been so happy together, I canā€™t stand the thought of not waking up to his face every morning after we leave here. Savage couldnā€™t possibly want to live apart when our contractual relationship is over, could he? I walk my fingers up the piano keys, mustering my courage. ā€œWhen we leave this house, where are you planning to live?ā€

When heā€™s silent, I gather the courage to peek at Savageā€™s face and find him red and flustered.

ā€œA hotel?ā€ I ask, returning to the piano keys.

ā€œUh . . . yeah. A hotel.ā€

ā€œI figured. Iā€™ve been thinking, though . . . maybe it would be fun if you came to live with me at my condo.ā€ Savage says nothing, so I peek at him again. This time, he looks like his mind is racing. Like heā€™s been caught with his hand in a cookie jar. ā€œUh oh, did I scare you away?ā€ Iā€™ve tried to make my tone sound light and bright. Like this is no biggie. Ha, ha. Just a wild idea. But, truthfully, I feel disappointed he hasnā€™t replied with a quick and simple yes. But oh well, at least he hasnā€™t given me an immediate no. So, thatā€™s something.

Savageā€™s features soften when he sees whatever look of anxiety has crept onto my face. ā€œOf course, you didnā€™t scare me away, Fitzy,ā€ he says. ā€œNothing you could say or do could possibly scare me away. I just donā€™t want to be a mooch, thatā€™s all.ā€

I sigh with relief. ā€œDonā€™t think of it like that, babe. I have a place and you donā€™t. This makes sense. One plus one equals two.ā€

Savage bites his lower lip. ā€œYou know what? Youā€™re right. Of course, we should live together after the show, since I donā€™t have a place of my own.ā€

ā€œExactly.ā€

ā€œIt makes perfect sense.ā€

ā€œI couldnā€™t agree more.ā€

Savage snickers.

ā€œWhat?ā€

ā€œNothing. Iā€™m just excited. Thanks for asking me to live with you.ā€

ā€œThanks for saying yes.ā€ I shudder with excitement. ā€œThis is going to be so fun!ā€

Savage smiles

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