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broadly. “Yes, it is. ‘A grand adventure,’ as Mimi always used to say.”

“Indeed.”

We seal the deal with a kiss, after which I squeal again and say, “I can’t wait to play my new piano in my condo! It’ll be a tight fit, but I can get rid of a couple chairs and make it work.”

“What were you working on when I came in? I heard a snippet. It sounded amazing.”

I shake my head.

As Savage knows, I don’t reveal my works in progress until I’m certain the song is worthy of being born. And that’s especially true of the song I was just working on about Savage. It’s the most honest, passionate song I’ve ever written in my life. A song I’m nervous might freak Savage out a bit, to be honest, if I play it before its time, since it contains some lyrics that will express things to Savage we haven’t yet said to each other. I’ve told Savage I love him many times. But telling him I’m going to love him forever, that my love is “infinite and everlasting,” as this song does, repeatedly, feels like taking our relationship to the next level, and I’m not sure he’s ready for that yet.

“Okay, then, if you won’t play me whatever you were working on when I came in,” Savage says, “then play me something. You can’t whet my appetite like that and then leave me hanging.”

“Sure. Any requests?”

“How about one of your cool Laila Fitzgerald covers?”

I can’t help smiling. Savage loves it when I transform one of my favorite songs by another artist into a slowed-down, piano cover. I pause, considering my options, and then start playing the intro to “Fireflies” by our friends, 22 Goats—one of my all-time favorite songs to sing. But since I’m playing the song much slower than the recorded original, and also on nothing but piano, Savage only recognizes the song when I start singing the famous first line: “Fireflies, you’ve got me feeling ‘em/never before or since.”

“I’ve got goosebumps!” Savage blurts. “Just like the ones I got when I heard you singing this song with Aloha and the Goats at Reed’s party!”

I stop playing on a dime, my jaw hanging open. “You heard me singing this song at Reed’s party? But you told me you didn’t come inside and see the performance.”

“I didn’t. I was standing outside on the patio and could hear the first part of the performance from there. Don’t stop. Sing me the whole thing. I love your voice on this one.”

“Your wish is my command.” I return my fingers to the keys and start from the beginning again, turning “Fireflies” into a piano ballad, with a few tweaks to the original lyrics, especially for my love:

[Click here to listen to Laila’s cover of “Fireflies”]

      Fireflies

You got me feelin’ ‘em

Never before or since

All my life

Been chasing butterflies

And in

Just one night

One perfect night . . .

Boy, you made butterflies your bitch

      Oh, Fireflies

Oh, In your eyes

      Don’t know if you’re feeling it

These wings and lights

Or if everything’s all in my head

But there’s one thing I know

One singular truth:

I need you

I need you

Boy, I need you so bad

In my life

In my bed

      Oh, Fireflies

Oh, in your eyes

Oh, Fireflies

Oh, in your eyes

      Fireflies

Fireflies

You got me feelin’ ‘em

With you

And nobody else

You’re a savage

A puzzle

My destination

Would give my soul to the devil

My soul to the devil

To never stop feeling

Those

Fireflies

With you

   When I finish singing my version of “Fireflies,” Savage looks absolutely blown away, the same way he always does whenever I sing for him. He kisses and hugs me, whispering, “You sound even more amazing on that song than you did at Reed’s party. I love it when it’s just you and your piano, and no other instrumentation.”

“I can’t believe you heard me singing this song at Reed’s party. I thought for sure you hadn’t.”

“I heard half of it. I left midway through the song.”

“I looked for your face in the audience during the entire performance! And when I didn’t see you, I decided, ‘Screw it, when I’m done performing, I’ll put my ego aside and find him, and be the first one to say hello.’ But when I got offstage, and did a lap of the party looking for you, you were nowhere to be found.”

Savage chuckles. “I heard you singing ‘Fireflies’ and couldn’t stay at the party a second longer. Your voice was so gorgeous, so mesmerizing to me, it made me want to cock-block Kendrick the second you walked offstage. So, I left the party, right then, to keep myself from hitting on you.”

“Oh my gosh,” I say. “I was positive I couldn’t find you because you’d left the party with whichever lucky lady you’d decided to bang that night. Georgina, or the woman you’d been talking to by the pool, or whoever else.”

He shakes his head. “I didn’t want to be a dick to Kendrick. By the way, I didn’t hit on Georgina that night. I mean, I did, but only because that was Kendrick’s birthday dare for me. Although, admittedly, I was thrilled to do it to get you back for flirting so brazenly with Cash in front of me.”

I snicker. “I wasn’t remotely interested in Cash.” I wink. “But I sure did enjoy the look of molten jealousy in your eyes when I flirted with him.”

“You’re an evil woman,” he says with a lopsided grin, but his tone feels like he’s giving me his highest compliment.

I shrug. “I wanted you to hit on me, and you weren’t. All’s fair in love and war.”

“Hell yeah, it is. Too-fucking-shay, Fitzy.”

I bite my lip. “Speaking of ‘Birthday Truth or Dare’ . . . Will you let me play tonight at my birthday party?”

Savage shakes his head. “Only Kendrick, Kai, and I are allowed to play. We’ve never even let Ruby and Titus play on their birthday—and trust me, Ruby’s held a grudge about it for a long time.”

“Well, that’s a simple fix. Let me play tonight and let the twins play on their next birthday. The more the merrier,

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