"The fighting is good." I couldn't tell if Billy was speaking to himself or me. "We need to fight, to let things out."

"I don't enjoy fighting with you," I admitted. "Even these micro-fights."

"Micro-fights," he echoed with a laugh before pulling away and tipping my face to his with a single finger. "I love you even when I'm angry, frustrated, or hurt. Tell me if you ever feel like I don't love you, even for a split-second, and I'll reassure you I do."

I gave him a weak smile and let my head roll to his shoulder. "I forget that you're famous. Tonight, with the cab driver, it made me feel weird when someone watches you like that."

Billy scanned me for a long moment before he swept me up in his arms in one seamless move. He settled on the bed with me on his lap. "Okay, let's talk about that," he began. "What do you mean by weird?"

"I don't know. It's a mix of awkwardness, frustration, anger, and..." I pondered the bubbling undertone, "pride, maybe."

His brow furrowed at my final selection.

"I'm proud of you, Billy. I've always been proud of you. People are weird around you. It's not fair. If a person thinks you might be that guy they saw on TV once, why not just ask? Do people think that creepy staring is better?"

A small laugh slipped from his lips. "I don't think most are thinking about it like that. Has your gaze ever fallen on something or someone, but you don't see what's in front of you? You know, you're staring at a bird, but your mind was on a bus ten years ago?"

"Yeah, I guess," I shrugged.

"That's what I do to people. I'm vaguely familiar. My face is one that people have seen but can't quite put their finger on where. My voice triggers a memory, but they don't know why. Only a tiny group of people can pick me out of a lineup. To most, I'm just another famous person they hear about in passing; maybe enjoy my work, but don't linger on for too long. It's not like I'm always hitting hot spots in LA. I hide in Duluth, put out some records, and tour every couple of years."

"Do people approach you like they did when the kids were young?"

"Less so now. For one, I'm old news." Billy let out a bit of a chuckle. "And honestly, Sarah was the most interesting part of my life to people back then. And I think there's something in the way you carry yourself. You can be in people's faces and grab attention with how you act and where you go. Then people will approach you. But if you are just a guy doing a job, even if that job is music, you don't get hassled too much." He tucked a loose tendril of hair behind my ear. "What do you worry about?"

"You don't want to know," I said as I dropped my eyes from his gaze.

"Don't do that to me, Lil." He lifted my face to meet his again. "I have a very vivid imagination. Talk to me."

"Well, John Lennon comes to mind." I sheepishly shrugged.

"Oh, geez, Lil," he pulled me close to his chest.

"But not just that. I think about Buddy Holly and Eddie Cochran. I am always worried. There are just so many things. Ever since the car accident when I just got a snippet through the news, I always feared it'd happen again."

"Babe, you can't think like that. You'll drive yourself crazy," he tried to soothe.

"You say that, but the Audi? Isn't that the same thing? People worry about those they love, and you put yourself in more danger than most."

"I'm not in the military or a firefighter. I play music."

"You know what I mean," I groaned. "You know how I used to love Twenty Flight Rock?"

"Used to?"

"It's in the storage unit," I admitted. "I always knew that Eddie Cochran died in a car accident, but I didn't know that he died because he threw himself over his fiancé to shield her." Tears started to bite at my eyes. "Remind you of anyone?"

"I won't apologize for protecting you, even if it's hypothetical," Billy argued.

"I won't apologize for worrying about you, even if it's crazy," I agreed.

"Well, aren't we a pair?" He smiled and kissed my forehead. "What else worries you?"

"That you aren't happy." It fell out of my mouth before I could catch it, and I immediately tensed at the forward admission.

"What? Why would you say that? How could you think I'm not happy?"

"You're different now. It's not bad, but you temper yourself. I used to tell everything by the slightest tense of your body: the slouch of your shoulders or the gleam in your eye. When you were mad, you were mad. That's what you're feeling from Timmy. He won't quit on you, but he will worry about you. You need to let people in to help you and not hide what's happening in your head. Before, you hid nothing. You almost celebrated it, even anger with your drum kit tantrums."

"I want to discuss you and Tim, but drum kit tantrums?" I expected to see annoyance in his eyes, but instead, there was a teasing spark.

"You realize that when you used to get mad, you would always beat the shit out of a drum kit for a while? Why do you think Timmy always said I was good for business?"

Billy's fingers plunged into his hair as he thought about what I had just told him. "I think I still do that. When you first arrived, I played drummed a lot. I may have sprained my wrist." As he spoke, he stretched out his hand as though he had forgotten the pain that had only recently waned.

"And when you're thinking about something, like really thinking about it, you run your hand through your hair."

"I'm always shifting my hair," he argued, "not just when I'm thinking."

"You are, but there are subtle differences. When you quickly plunge your hand into your hair, you're mulling. You're uncomfortable when you tug on your hair. When you move it out of your face, you're sorry. When you have one hand in your hair and the other scratching your belly, you feel entirely out of control."

He blinked at me a few times before his mouth opened. Still, it took a moment for words to form. "Tell me more?"

"One of my favorite things is when you're in an exceptional mood, your words come quickly like the bullets from a machine gun, and your Midwest accent comes out. But the best part is your tone; it's higher and uneven. It melts years from you and always makes me smile."

He dipped his face to hide his smile, but I could still see the flush and prick of his dimples.

"Oh, and those dimples. You don't show them to strangers. Have you ever noticed? I looked through all your albums, and in every picture of you, you're either stoic or have a tiny smile that doesn't do your full smile justice. Your genuine smile is broad and crooked like a jack-o'-lantern. Your lips get thin from the stretch, and that's when the dimples appear. You know I love your dimples."

"My momma gave them to me," he murmured. "I love how you see me," he added after a moment. "That's all I ever wanted from the first moment I laid eyes on you. I just wanted you to see me. I never thought I'd get the chance to fall in love with you. And to have you fall in love with me." His head shook back and forth. "I honestly don't know what to do with myself."

"You don't have to do anything," I reminded him as my hand lifted to caress his face. "You've always been more than enough. I just want you with me. I want to be the one to make you smile, to calm you when you're geared up, to rile you up when you're too inside yourself." I giggled at how poking him to get his emotions out was a little too fun sometimes as my eyes fell on our interlocking fingers. "I want to be your rest and excitement, good days and bad days. I want you, all of you." I lifted my eyes to meet his and found them glistening.

"Lil, I just..." he shifted me from his lap to the bed. "Love me?" His voice cracked as he slipped to the floor. "All I ask is that you love me. We'll figure out the rest. Me in my head, you in yours. We'll figure it out together." As he spoke, he lifted his hand from his pocket. "But love me, forever. We'll figure everything else out."

"Forever," slipped from my lips. I should have looked at the ring he held before me, but I didn't see it. All I could see were his deep hazel eyes peering up at me with all the innocence of the world as my heart painfully pounded in my chest.

"Please," his voice creaked again.

I sunk to the floor in front of him. "Billy," I let my hands lay on his chest, "I always thought love was supposed to be quiet and gentle, like you. I thought it would seep into me and fill me with something I didn't know I was missing."

"Lil, please, don't do this to me..." Billy pleaded.

"Billy, loving you has been like a fistfight since we met. It's been hard and painful. From the instant I looked into your eyes, I felt entirely isolated from everyone else in the world. It was like you tucked me in your pocket. I could see all these other people wandering around living life, but I couldn't escape this encasement of you."

Billy sunk back to his heels as his hand dropped.

I let my hands raise to either side of his face. "I tried to ignore it. I tried to carry on, convinced that I could prevent it from interrupting the silly plans I had in my head. But whenever you came around, a new war started within me." I shook my head to myself. "It wasn't war; war is too strategic. It was like those horror stories you read of an innocent person sitting on a park bench and getting stabbed. Every time you came around, it was like getting unexpectedly stabbed with twisting gruesome slashes that would leave me slowly dying on the ground, wishing the pool of blood around me would drown my lungs and finally finish me."

"You're leaving me in Portland. I guess it saves you some travel," he mumbled.

"Billy, I'm done. I'm done thinking about what love is supposed to be. The fairy tale of stolen glances and gentle feelings that fill you with noodle soup is over. I only eat noodle soup when I'm sick. I hate noodle soup."

His eyes flickered to me, but when he saw my gaze boring into him, he set his eyes in line with mine. "Lil, what's happening?"

"I want our unexpected love. I want it to punch me in the face. I want to know it's there because it's unmistakable and screams at me every moment of every day. I want it to ruin my concentration and destroy every idyllic notion I ever had. I want it to burn into me and scar me so deeply that I'll never be the same."

"Wait..." he lifted to his knees, "what the fuck are you saying, Lil?"

I let out a laugh. "Billy, I've tried not to love you. I'm terrible at it, and frankly, it sucks."

A relieved laugh of a breath escaped Billy as he dropped his face. "You just went on a five-minute tirade about the brutality of love to sum it up with not loving me sucks."

"What can I say? I have a way with words."

"You ever think of writing lyrics?"

"No, never. I'm too distracted," I teased as I sunk into him.

His arms melted around me. "I need you to say it, Lil. I'm pretty sure you said all the words except the one I need to hear right now."

I pulled away from him and looked deep into his eyes, "Kloppelbaum."

A deep throaty laugh that felt like it had been hiding in Billy for years erupted from his chest. "Fuck you, Lil," he managed.

"Oh, fine. If you must be so traditionally boring: yes, Mr. Collins, I will accept your hand." I gave him a dramatic nod.

"I accept your hand," he corrected.

"No, I accept your hand. You asked me, so I accept your hand," I argued.

"Oh, for the love of all that's holy, could just one thing be easy with you?"

"How dare you call me easy when proposing!"

"When we tell people about this, we're going to say I proposed at fucking Disney World; it'll be more believable. Now, give me your damn hand."

"I accept your hand!" I argued again.

"Lil, I need your fucking hand to put the fucking ring on it."

"Oh, right," I sheepishly admitted.

Billy gently took my hand in his and slipped on the ring. "I'm ashamed to admit that after that display, I love you more than when I propose."

"You love me; you really love you. You want to have like a million of my babies," I teased in a childish tone.

"I just proposed. This line of teasing doesn't even make sense. Of course, I love you," Billy complained.

"You can't even get annoyed at me because you love me so much," I continued in the same tone.

"Okay, it's all fun and game until..." But he didn't finish his threat. Instead, his hands found my waist and lifted me quickly to the bed before he pinned me down with his body.

"Don't you dare!" I said in a stern tone.

"What's that, Lil? Didn't you say you wanted an unmissable love that gives you no peace?" His eyes mischievously gleamed as the cadence of his words quickened.

"I'm warning you, Billy!"

But it was too late. Before I could even think of anything to threaten him with, he mercilessly tickled me as I screamed at him and swatted his head and shoulders.

"Stop, stop!" I managed, causing him to collapse barely to the side of me.

"You want to know about my love?" He asked after catching for a moment.

"I know your love," I said as I curled into him.

"No, you just told me about your love. Do you want to know about mine?"

"Yeah." I propped my chin on his chest to meet his eyes.

He gazed down at me and brushed the hair from my face before he began. "You defend me, even when I do the indefensible. You listen to me. You look for understanding. I've thought I lost you so often because I thought you were defending something or someone else, but when I listen to what you're saying and stop being offended, I realize you're always defending me. It's so pure and easy for you to trust and have faith in me. It's so much more than I deserve."

"I disagree," I whispered as I laid my head on his chest and listened to the beating of his heart.

"There you go defending me again."

"Tell me something you have done that was indefensible?"

"Lily." His voice was soothing as he tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. "I'm selfish by nature. When we were young, I wanted you with me so much. I never thought of what I was asking you to give up." A small laugh jolted his chest beneath me. "Even when I thought I was listening and understanding, I was making conditions to get what I wanted. I wasn't supporting you because I wanted what was best for you; I supported you to get what I wanted. It was cruel, and I..." The pain flared in his eyes and halted his words.

"That's enough," I murmured as I rested my head back on his chest. "It's behind us."

"Tim, my mother, they saw it; they knew what I was doing. That's why Tim is so worried now. It's not about me; it's about you."

"It's about both of us. Timmy loves you. He knows how hurt you were when I left. He's right to blame me."

"Why do you believe in me so much, Lil? What did I do to deserve it?"

I let out a sigh. "You may only recall the selfish things, but I remember everything else. I remember you always taking my calls no matter how busy or tired you were, even if I called in the middle of the night because I'm entirely incompetent regarding time zones."

"Time zones are tricky," Billy mused.

"I remember when Sam left me that night at your concert, and I was so upset. You let me turn to you even though we hadn't spoken in months and even though we both knew it was killing you."

"Well, that was my fault."

I lifted my eyes to meet his. "Explain that logic," I teased.

"He left you because of me, Lil. He took one look at me looking at you, and ran. He knew what we were both trying to hide."

"That we were in love," I continued.

"That I was in love with you. You weren't there yet. Honestly, I wasn't ready for you to love me yet."

"Do you think this was how it was supposed to be? If it had been any other way, think of how different we would be. You wouldn't have the kids and probably wouldn't have been so close to my dad."

"And I'd have stifled you. My girl boss would be who knows what," he smiled. "I know you've always said you didn't want kids, but do you ever wish that..."

"I think about it sometimes, what it would've been like if I had been able to have kids and wanted them. But, more often than not, I'm grateful. If I had been able to have kids but not wanted them, I'd have probably ended up with a couple of kids in a marriage to Sam. I'm certain I'd be miserable."

"What if it wasn't with Sam?"

I looked up at him; his eyes were soft and open. "If I had been able to, I would've had kids with you. Even with PCOS, I would've tried. I always knew you were going to be the best father. I'd never have taken that from you. But you have the kids meant for you. I couldn't imagine life without Jackson and Viv."

"Me neither. We wouldn't work without them," he added.

"What?" I let out a laugh. "With Viv, we may not work with them!"

"Viv likes you more than she lets on; she watched you. She is more annoyed that she likes you than anything. She's stubborn."

"Mmhmm," I stifled a smile.

"Viv and Jackson made me understand how to be selfless. They made me the man they deserve; you deserve."

"You're very harsh to the boy I fell in love with; I don't care for it."

"There you go defending me." He smoothed a hand over my hair. "You have to work tomorrow. Get some sleep."

"You're not tired," I noted.

"I will be," he whispered.

I rolled off him, but his arms wouldn't release me.

"Billy," I giggled, "I thought you wanted me to go to sleep."

"I do. Are you uncomfortable like this?"

I melted back into his arms. "If I fall asleep on you, you'll be stuck here."

"I wouldn't call it stuck. Go to sleep," he prodded as he turned the light off. He shifted a bit beneath me and circled his arms tighter around me. "I love you, Lily Collins."

"Hey, we're not married yet, and who said I was taking your name?"

Billy tensed around me. "Nothing can be simple with you... We'll talk about that later." He sighed as his lips grazed the top of my head.

"I love you, Billy Collins," I murmured as I drifted to sleep.