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A songwriter is nothing without his muse. Sucks that mine turns out to be Katherine D'Arcy––hot as hell, but the very definition of country-club living and everything I came to this quiet little island to escape. Still...I can't complain about the beauty tumbling out of my guitar. It's not long before I can barely keep up––not with the music, not with her body, and definitely not with her heart. There's an unexpected bravery and fire hiding behind the rigidity of her day-planner, and I'll be damned if she keeps it hidden. She makes me hope for a future I never thought possible. A future for us. Together. If only there wasn't that one inconvenient truth, that one minor chord, clashing dissonant and inharmonious between us. For now she can't hear it, and I'm grateful for that. I wish I could hide the truth from her forever. Or at least, a little while longer... But it's time for her true beauty to shine through, even if it means she chooses to leave me behind.