SING FOR ME Exclusive Bonus Scene

SEVEN YEARS LATER – ELI

The sun has only just begun cresting over the water when I step outside onto the back deck of our lake house. I wrangle the two steaming mugs of coffee I’m holding into one hand so I can close the glass door as quietly as possible. Half our household is still asleep.

I pause for a moment, listening to Reese sing a line from a new song she’s working on. She’s perched at the edge of one of the lounge chairs overlooking the lake, her guitar on her lap. Even after these years together, being the first sounding board for all her songs and attending as many of her shows as our life allows, I never get tired of hearing her sing.

But I also don’t want our coffee getting cold, so I walk as quietly as I can toward her. 

I sense her shift–it’s too late. She strums the guitar one last time, then turns toward me, her hair falling softly over her shoulder. Goddamn, she looks beautiful in the morning, with early golden sunlight sparkling over the lake and onto her face. I love seeing her without a trace of makeup or professionally done hair that still surprises me every time I see it, even all these years later. She looks stunning all done up like that of course, but like this—she’s my Reese.

“Thank you, baby,” Reese says, smiling wide. I know she’s smiling at the coffees still in my one hand and not at me, so I make a point of yawning and scratching my t-shirt up my chest to give her a glimpse of skin.

My mouth twists in a smile as I catch her eyes drifting south. Still got it.

Reese looks back up at me, a little twinkle in her eye, and reaches a hand out for the coffee when I get close.

“Actually, these are both for me, so I don’t have to go back to the kitchen when you get to a good part.”

Reese narrows her eyes at me but laughs all the same. “I’m done for now.” She sets her guitar against the chair next to her and does grabby hands at the coffee.

I hand her hers and lean back against the deck railing, loving the way she looks when she closes her eyes as she takes a sip.

She sighs contentedly, then says, “Finally figured out the bridge.”

“And I finally figured out if I tiptoe past Shan’s room, that doesn’t set off her footstep radar. Normal footfalls, yes, but me tippy-toeing seems to do the trick.”

Reese snorts with laughter. “Okay, but I think I need to see that.”

“What, me tippy-toeing?”

“I never pegged you as a ballerina.”

“You never pegged me, period,” I cough.

Reese throws her head back. “My God, Eli, I think you’re trying to wake those kids up!”

“A little,” I confess, grinning and taking a sip of my coffee. We both know I’m only half kidding. When our five-year-old daughter Shannon was a newborn, I constantly interrupted her naps by slipping into her room to make sure she was still there, intact, and as take-your-breath-away perfect as her mother. I did the same thing with her brother, albeit I got better at being sneaky about it.

Reese indulges me with a smile and suddenly I can’t stand to be this many feet away from her. I go over and set my coffee down next to hers, then lower myself onto the lounge chair behind her. I pull her up between my legs and fold my arms around her. Reese lays her head back on my chest and I kiss the tousled mess of her hair tickling my chin.

“I’m glad you figured out the bridge, baby,” I say seriously. I know this song has been gnawing at her. She wrote it about her dad, who passed earlier this year. At the memorial, she sang Bob Dylan’s Forever Young and there wasn’t a dry eye in the house. I told her if she wrote her own song about him, people would have been openly sobbing.

So of course, she did. Not for that purpose, but because she said it was her best way of remembering.

“Will you sing it for me later?” I ask, gliding my hand down so my palm slides over her firm belly. She’s coming on four months pregnant with our third—we both swear it’s our last, but I’m not writing it in stone—and I love holding her there, just in case I get to feel our little one, too.

“We have a busy day today, remember?”

I tip my head back on the chair, idly stroking her stomach with my thumb. “I do remember. Cousins everywhere.” I sigh. “Jude’s boys better not try to teach Lorenzo any more trampoline jumps.” His boys are as wild as he was as a kid.

Luckily Lorenzo’s not exactly old enough to take direction all that well, so his attempts at jumps are innocuous enough. For now.

“It’s Shannon we have to worry about,” Reese says.

“You’re right,” I agree. Shannon’s the fiery risk-taker. She just barely got the cast off her forearm last month. Jude made his boys promise they wouldn’t teach her anymore daredevil stunts. “The minute we turn our head she’ll be begging Cap to ride on the back of his BMX.”

I groan, rubbing my jaw with my palm. “In that case, I’m definitely going to need you to sing to me later. Just to calm me the hell down.”

Reese laughs softly. “You know I’ll always sing for you.”

Even though I can’t see her face, I know she’s closed her eyes. Reese is like this when expecting; she gets a burst of energy right when she wakes up, then usually requires a mid-morning nap to be functional afterward. Her manager now knows to incorporate naps into her tour schedule when Reese is pregnant.

I take another sip of coffee, vowing to keep quiet so she can rest. I’d be happy for her to take her nap right here in my arms; to stare out at the late spring sun glittering on the lake. It’s the most beautiful place I’ve ever called home—a custom-built lake house only a half-hour outside of Quince Valley. We spend as much of our time here as possible, only leaving when visiting family or when Reese is on tour.

But I know the peace won’t last, and as if I’ve conjured them up with that thought, just then there’s an explosion of tiny thuds and giggles from inside the house. A moment later, two little tornadoes in fuzzy bunny pajamas come thundering out onto the deck, hoods with ears flopping behind them.

“We woke up!” three-year-old Lorenzo exclaims.

“Hello, it’s not hard,” Shan said as they both come climbing up on top of us. “I wake up every day.”

“Oof!” I say as Lorenzo steps directly on my calf.

Reese pulls the little ones into our arms, shifting so I can pull Lorenzo up onto my one leg. He’s a kicker, and he’s better up here than near his mom’s belly.

As Shan places her ear on said belly, saying “Hello! Anyone in there?” Lorenzo chatters to me in his lispy voice about Candyland. It’s a recurring theme in his dreams—at least aspirationally, since Shan told him she once dreamed that the world was made out of candy. 

“An’ there was a candy cat, Dad!”

“A candy cat?!” I bite my cheek to keep from laughing, pressing my forehead against my little guy’s head as he stumbles through his words.

When Reese tips her head back up at me, I angle my face to her and mouth the words I love you.

She mouths them right back to me. 

My heart goddamn glows.

I know this—right here, all wrapped up in each other and listening to the chatter of our children, feeling the warm light of the sun on our faces—is better than any seat in the front row at one of her shows. It’s better even than watching her sing, but only by a fraction of a hair. I close my eyes, laughing at Lorenzo trying to wrap his mouth around the word Saturday.

Yes, we’ve got a big day ahead of us—a big life still ahead of us, too. But for the moment, I let myself soak in the warmth of the sun, only outshone by the love of my family. I let myself feel Lorenzo’s pudgy hand on my cheek; the press of Reese’s body against me, and of Shan now, up and on her feet, her hands tugging my hair as she attempts to stand it on end. The world, the day—everything else can wait, because this gift of our life gives me the same feeling as when Reese sings for me. It’s love, embodied in matter. It’s everything I ever wanted. My Reese, my family, forever.

***
I hope you loved this peek into Eli and Reese’s future! Are you ready to meet Nora and Jude? Their story is coming in Play With Me, on June 16, 2023! 

Preorder now so you don’t miss it! geni.us/playwithme.