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“Wow.” I grip my jaw, stopping it from unhinging when she stops in front of me. There aren’t many moments in my life when I’ve been stunned speechless, but all have been in response to this woman.

She smooths her hands down the dress. “It’s a little big. I got ready in the restroom and⁠—”

I step forward, dropping my mouth to her ear, the stray curls tickling my nose. “Beautiful. So goddamn beautiful, you’re killing me, Talia.”

“You’re sure?” She winces. “Sorry, I’m not fishing for compliments.”

I have to touch her, just for a moment. I cup her cheek, forgetting about the hundreds of eyes on us. “If you have an ounce of doubt in your mind how utterly breathtaking you are, every minute, of every hour, then I haven’t done my job properly.”

Big almond eyes stare up at me. “You’ve always made me feel beautiful.”

“Good.” My hand falls away, twitching at my side with the urge to stay permanently attached to her. “Doesn’t mean I’ll ever stop reminding you.”

I reluctantly let the moment pass. A second longer, and I won’t have control of my actions or words—I’m barely keeping it together as it is. “It looks great in here.” I glance around the room. “Do you need help with anything?”

Her eyelashes flutter, gaze refocusing on the center of my chest before she shakes her head. “No. Thank you. You can mingle, schmooze a little, and then find your seat. Dinner will be in twenty.” She glances at her watch. “I need to find the DJ. You’ll be okay by yourself?”

I tug at my lapels. “I’ll cope. Go be spectacular.”

She smiles bashfully. Always so humble.

Once Talia disappears, I grab an alcohol-free beer, greet Eric and Julian, thanking them for hosting the event, and mooch around the donation table. A few guests come over, telling me how much they love my music and that they were sorry to hear about my tour, but otherwise everyone is normal. How I’ve fucking missed normal.

We’re called to dinner, and I find my seat beside Talia’s. I’m quiet while we eat, happy to sit back and listen to Talia talk shop with her colleagues. The CEO of the charity explains to the table where the funds raised so far will go and what their plans are for the future.

“How many rooms do you have in total?” Eric’s wife asks.

“Across our three sites, forty-two.”

“Is that enough?”

She grimaces. “I wish it were, but we’re seeing more and more cases of all genders recently. We’re running out of space, and while we hate to turn people away, the last thing we want is to overfill. We want those staying with us to be comfortable, and most of them have children. We’d love to extend our flagship center eventually, but for now we want to concentrate on keeping the sites open.”

The digital meter on the stage tells me they’ve raised over eighty thousand dollars this year so far, a little under 50 percent of their yearly goal. It doesn’t sit right with me.

The meal ends, the lights dim, and dinner shifts into a party.

And my patience finally concedes.

Talia stands on the edge of the dance floor, head tipped back in laughter with Olivia and Julian. I promised myself I’d behave, but I’ve waited all day—all week—to have her to myself, even for three minutes.

As if the DJ senses my distress, the song shifts into something slower.

Unable to keep my hands to myself, I gently place one on Talia’s waist. She startles before turning to me and relaxing.

“Mind if I steal my wife away? She promised me a dance.” Without waiting for her friend’s response, I whisk her toward the dance floor.

We haven’t even started, and she’s already a little breathless when I stop us in the center of the dance floor. I move her hands to rest on my shoulders, while I take one of hers in mine and rest the other on her hip.

Lips pressed together, she aims her adorable frown my way. “That was rude.”

“The night’s almost over. You really think I was going to pass up on the opportunity to do”—I dip her at the waist, drawing a sharp gasp from her—“this.”

A giggle slips past her lips. There it is. “You’re a real Southern Casanova, huh?”

I right us before leading us into a lazy two-step, not paying any mind to the melody. We didn’t need one the day of our wedding, and I would’ve happily slow danced tunelessly with her in the street until the sunset, but the moment begged for lyrics.

The first song I ever wrote. Every word, chord, verse, and chorus of our song is etched into me.