Bring Down the Stars (Beautiful Hearts Duet #1)(47)

“No, but we’re both busy.” Her expression brightened. “Did you know Connor wrote poetry?”

“You don’t say.”

“I’ve only read one. About me.” Her cheeks turned pink. “Did you read it?”

“Suffocating days?” I said. “Sweaty sheets?”

“Oh my God.” She covered her face with her hands, then peeked at me between her fingers. “Yes, that’s the one.”

I laughed a little. Her embarrassment was fucking cute as hell. “It wasn’t a very good poem.”

Her face bloomed into surprised amusement. She tossed a napkin at me, laughing. “Yes, it was! I suppose you’re giving him a ton of shit about it.”

“Only because he can do better,” I said.

“You think?” Her laughter melted into something warm and private. “I wish he would. Write more, I mean.”

“You do?”

She pursed her lips and gave me a look. “Oh no, one love poem is all a gal needs, thanks. It’ll tide me over until Valentine’s Day. At least.”

I laughed. “I just meant, poetry isn’t for everybody.”

“No, but it is for me.”

I knew that. I just wish it wasn’t so true. I would write to you every day…

“You once told me pretty words weren’t enough without something real behind them,” I said slowly.

“They’re not,” Autumn said. “But his poem felt very real to me. More than pretty words. It felt…”

“Honest,” I said.

“Yes!” Her face lit up. “It felt honest and yet beautiful. And coming from him, it was unexpected.”

“He wants to express himself,” I said. “How he feels about you. For a guy like him, it’s not always easy.” My pen tapped. “That’s what he told me, anyway.”

She nodded. “I’m so glad he did. I’m the first to admit I have ridiculous expectations in relationships. And I was trying my best to keep things between us casual, but…” She shrugged. “I don’t do casual.”

Translation: going for a week without hearing from the guy she slept with is too long.

“Connor’s been busy all week too,” I said, biting out the words. “But he talks about you. A lot.”

Her face brightened. “He does?”

“Yep.” My pen madly tapped my notebook. “He’s auditing a poetry class,” I said. “To get better at the poetry thing. For you.”

“Really?” Her eyes were molten gemstones in the dim light.

I nodded.

“That’s so sweet.” She shook her head. “More than sweet. After the way things ended with my last boyfriend, I was sure starting something new was a bad idea. Especially since I tend to become invested rather quickly.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” I said. “Some people live their entire fucking lives without showing their hand.” My pen doodled on a blank page of my notebook. “It’s brave to put yourself out there, especially after someone screwed you over.”

“Thank you. I hated how what Mark did made me feel shitty about myself. Like I was to blame, you know?”

“Trust me, he’s the asshole in the picture. But it still hurts like hell, right?”

“That’s the great thing about dating Connor,” she said. “It’s almost impossible to be around him and not smile and laugh. And to discover he has this deeper, poetic side?” She shook her head, lost in a dreamy thought. Her wrist rolled, turning her palm up. Empty.



I could fill her soft hand

with all of my words,

Curl her fingers around them

Protected now

My soul in her safekeeping



“If only he’d show that to me more,” Autumn said. “He’d be…”

“Perfect?”

“Nobody’s perfect, but the combination of his good humor and sensitivity makes me feel we have a chance at being happy.”

If the two of us were one person, we’d make her happy. I can help Connor make her happy.

“Happy is the most important thing,” I said quietly.

She curled her fingers and drew her hand back into her lap. “But not at your expense. It’s important to me that you’re okay with us. With me being over at your place. In your life.”

At my expense, I thought. Yes, at my expense. I’m going to pay. Every day they’re together, I’m going to pay. Because their happiness is worth the price.

“I’m okay with it,” I said.

Her smile was radiant. “I’m so glad. I—” Her ringing phone—Chris Isaac’s “Wicked Game”—cut her off and she rummaged in her bag. “Sorry. That’s my brother.” She put the phone to her ear. “Hey, Trav. What’s up?”

Within three seconds, her smile vanished and her mouth slowly dropped open. Her eyes widened, fear and worry blooming in them like a dark shadow.

“Oh my God,” she said.

I half-rose out of my seat. “What is it?”

Her eyes darted to me helplessly as she listened. “My dad…he had a heart attack. They’re rushing him to surgery.” She listened a moment. “Okay.” Nodded vigorously. “Right. Okay, I will. I’ll call you back when I get a flight. It’ll be okay, Trav. I’m coming. Okay. Bye.”