Flirting with the Rock Star Next Door

by Nadia Lee

“But you’re going to forgive him, right?”

  “I’ll see him when I get back to Kingstree.” I wanted to talk with Killian first. After all, he deserved to know before my mom that I forgave him. “Gotta go. I need to get ready.”

  I hung up over her protests and suggestions about what to say when I forgave him, and felt my lips twitch into a smile.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Killian

  I checked for new texts as I stepped into the room where the signing was taking place.

  –Devlin: Good luck.

  –Cole: Ditto, bro.

  –Max: Yup.

  I nodded and inhaled deeply, clutching a print copy of My Fair Molly in my hand. I was wearing sunglasses, but people around me were whispering and staring anyway.

  A lot of them had recognized me. They were pointing, making me feel like some kind of exotic animal. I was never going to point at an animal in a zoo again.

  I ignored the stares and whispers and discreet raising of phones. These people didn’t matter as long as they didn’t get in my way. I held the book proudly, making sure the cover showed. Emily deserved my support, and this was the least I could do to show her I was sorry.

  My body braced for a fight, I scanned the crowd for anybody who looked like a cover model. No buff men in sight, shirtless or otherwise. Mir had probably gotten confused. Emily was a classy girl who did classy signings. She wouldn’t be throwing herself at a model, no matter how muscular or pretty he was. Those guys probably couldn’t last more than ten minutes anyway. Where else would she have gotten the notion?

  The authors were arranged in alphabetical order. It wasn’t difficult to spot Emily at her table. There was a pile of books laid out on it, as well as a few boxes underneath, near her feet.

  I took a moment to gaze at her. My heart twanged with longing and nerves, like when I’d gone on stage in front of a crowd for the first time. It was because I was gazing at my dream, a future I wanted more than anything else, personified by the woman in front of me. Emily looked so pretty, sitting there with a smile on her face, greeting each of her readers. She wasn’t wearing glasses and she’d let her hair down, reminding me of the way she looked on our karaoke night. It was as though the fight we’d had wasn’t weighing on her mind, and the only thing that mattered was making sure each one of her fans felt special.

  She was a fucking pro. And I still couldn’t believe I’d been so stupid.

  I went and stood at the end of the long line. Somebody glanced at me, then did a double take. “Hey…” She squinted. “Are you…Killian Axelrod?”

  “Nah, ’fraid not,” I said, pitching my voice a little higher than usual. I didn’t want to make this event about me. This was Emily’s moment to shine.

  “Wow. You look just like him,” she said.

  “Yeah, I get that a lot.”

  “I’ll bet. It’s eerie.” She poked her friend. “Don’t you think he looks like Killian Axelrod?”

  The friend turned around. “Oh my God. I saw Axelrod in concert once. You could be his twin.”

  “Maybe we were separated at birth.” They both laughed, but now I wished I’d worn a disguise. If I’d shown up in a professor-like outfit and a pair of nerdy glasses… Hey, it worked for Superman.

  More people noticed me and whispered, but I ignored them, pretending people always mistook me for a rock star. I even ignored a few bold ladies surreptitiously taking my photos, gripping My Fair Molly more tightly even though it felt like ants were crawling inside my belly.

  When I finally reached Emily, she looked up and went still, her mouth parted slightly.

  My mouth dried, and my throat felt closed up, like I had a tie around my neck. I cleared it. “Hi. I’m your biggest fan.”

  “Um. What are you doing here?”

  “Did you see the ad?” I couldn’t call, so that had been the only thing I could think of to make sure she knew how sorry I was. Since her dad’s ads were going out this weekend, I had mine go out on both Saturday and Sunday, just to make sure. She had to know how sorry I was. And how much I wanted to fix what I’d broken. If she wanted, I’d buy every copy of My Fair Molly in print right now. Or instantly compose an “I’m sorry” song and perform it.

  “Which one?” she asked blankly.

  Shit. She didn’t see it, even though I’d put it in the four papers Abby had mentioned. If that was the case, she might not like what I was about to do, but it was too late now. I couldn’t slink away like some spineless loser.

  “Can you sign this?” I put down My Fair Molly in front of her.

  “Sure,” she said automatically, and flipped the cover open.

  Then paused.

  My heart went still. I forced myself to not squirm as tension wound through me. A fist tightened around my chest, making it hard to breathe.

  She stared at the page for a long moment, then finally scribbled something and signed it. Closing the cover, she handed me the book. “Here you go.”

  No smile. No hint that she’d read or seen what was on the page. The ground underneath my feet seemed unstable, like a field in the middle of an earthquake or landslide. “Emily.” Despite myself, my voice came out too tight.

  “People are waiting,” she said, then looked directly into my eyes and held them. “See me afterward.”

  I left the huge space in a daze and tried to breathe. Blacking out from a lack of oxygen wouldn’t go over well. Then, remembering she’d written something inside the cover, I flipped the book open.

  Emily,

  I love you. Marry me.

  –Killian

  My grandmother’s ring was taped to the page. It was the ring Grandpa had used to propose all those decades ago when he realized she was the only one for him. They’d been together all their lives…and so, so happy. And I wanted to use it to ask for Emily’s hand in marriage because I wanted us to have the same amazing, loving life together.

  Emily had written:

  Don’t want to do this in front of the crowd. See me after.

  –Emily

  My shoulders sagged. I rubbed my hand over my jaw. She didn’t want to say no in front of everyone. She was too nice to upset and humiliate me like that, because of course then they really would know who I was. Maybe I should cling to the fact that she was nice enough to care about my feelings. Maybe there was still a chance that I could convince her to say yes when I saw her later.

  Dream on, the cynic in me whispered. If she was going to say yes, she would’ve said so when she opened the book.

  My phone buzzed.

  –Cole: How’d it go?

  –Devlin: When’s the date?

  –Max: We all gonna be groomsmen?

  –Me: She didn’t say yes.

  –Cole: She said no?

  –Devlin: Did you tell her you’ve never proposed before? She’s the special one.

  –Max: Why’d she said no?

  –Me: She didn’t say no. She said “See me after.”

  That sounded pathetic, even to myself.

  –Cole: Oh man. I’m sorry.

  –Devlin: Tell me what I need to do to make you feel better. Girls, booze, you name it.

  –Max: Sorry.

  I didn’t text back. Even my band mates thought her response was a rejection. And my gut agreed. There were only two types of answers to a proposal: yes and not-yes.

  But she said she wanted to see you after the signing. If you mope and don’t come up with a plan, you’re screwed. But if you get your shit together, maybe you’ll get to change her mind, the determined part of me whispered. Grab the opportunity. Take it!

  I inhaled. That was true. I still had a chance. No matter how slim it was, I shouldn’t waste it.

  I rushed to the concierge in the lobby.

  “How can I help you, sir?” a middle-aged man in a dark suit said with a courteous smile. Then his eyes widened. “Mr.…Axelrod?”

  I started to tell him he was mistaken, then changed my mind. Dev had said that fame was part of who I was
now, and that it was a nuke that could be used for good or bad. “You know who I am?”

  “Know who…? Of course! I love your songs. ‘The Danger Zone’ is my wife’s and my favorite.”

  I smiled. “Awesome. Would you like an autograph to take to your wife?”

  He lit up. “That would be spectacular. Thank you, sir. Shirley’s not going to believe this!”

  “Not a problem. And your name is Piers, right?” I said, reading his tag.

  “That’s correct, sir.”

  I signed a stiff piece of paper he brought out. As I gave it back to him, I said, “Listen, Piers, I’m in a little bit of a bind. Think you could help me out?”

  “Of course, sir.” He drew himself up, the Axelrod fan being replaced by the professional concierge. “Of course.”

  “Great. I need to rent out your best restaurant. The one with the best view. The whole thing. If that isn’t possible, then an entire, I don’t know, terrace facing a garden or something like that. I need it today, for at least three hours, after the book signing over there ends.” I gestured vaguely in the direction of the event. Given the number of people in line, I suspected it’d go on for at least another couple of hours. I wouldn’t want to be the organizer having to face the wrath of a female horde, furious it didn’t get to see its favorite author.

  “I’m sure I can arrange something appropriate.”

  “Excellent. And the place is going to need flowers. Lots of them.” Cole told me he’d arranged for a hundred bouquets to set the mood when he proposed to Teri. I wasn’t going to fail because I’d forgotten flowers.

  “Anything particular in mind?”

  I thought for a moment. Emily had never mentioned her favorite. And I couldn’t ask now. “Something that says, ‘I’m sorry, I’m a dick, I love you, marry me, I’ll make you happy.’”

  “I begin to understand the dimensions of the issue. I assume that, ah, budgetary considerations won’t be a factor?”

  “Not at all. Spend what you need to.”

  “Very good. What about music? Food? Will there be any specific requirements?”

  “My…” What could I call Emily? Not really a girlfriend, not a fiancée… “My lady will order when she’s ready, so the kitchen should be prepared to make whatever she wants. As for music…” I paused and considered. She’d said she didn’t do music. The only time she’d asked for it… Well, she’d wanted me to sing for her. But I didn’t think rock would set the right tone. “Nothing. No music.”

  “No…?” He frowned. “Begging your pardon, sir, as I’m sure your experience in this area vastly outstrips my own, but one can’t help thinking that the, ah, proceedings are more likely to succeed with music. I could perhaps make some suggestions on romantic pieces…?”

  “Yeah, normally you’d be right. But she just doesn’t like it.”

  “I see.” He stood straighter. “Very well. You’ll have what you need.”

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Emily

  My mind had been whirring since Killian asked me to sign My Fair Molly. I smiled and said all the right things to the fans, operating mainly on autopilot, but I couldn’t remember much of anything.

  When the signing was finally finished, Lucy and Skye came over, Skye’s eyes as wide as the real sky. And they weren’t the only ones. Other writers converged to my table, sharks sensing the most delicious food there was: gossip.

  “Okay, so that was Killian Axelrod, right? Somebody said he just looks like him, but he’s identical!” someone said, her voice somewhere between a scream and a squeal.

  “I know!” Skye agreed. “It’s gotta be him!”

  “Or his secret clone,” another author said from behind me.

  I smiled, but I was sure I looked nervous. Lucy and Skye would be more circumspect, especially since Lucy understood I wanted to keep things discreet, but the other authors? I’d hate to have them track him down and post pictures of him all over the internet.

  “Why would a rock star read romance?” Almost immediately after I said it, I realized how silly I was being. Killian had asked me to marry him. It wasn’t the kind of thing I could hide forever. “It’s a long story.”

  “We love long stories,” Skye said.

  “Yes, we do.” There was a chorus of voices, everyone’s eyes eager.

  “Okay, fine. We met. And we spent some time together. You know. Romance takes its course,” I said with a shrug.

  “There’s gotta be more to it than that!” Skye said.

  “Just use your imagination,” I said, then quirked an eyebrow to let her know I’d talk to her later.

  I didn’t think she understood my sub-rosa message, because she looked at me like I’d gotten all the bars in town shut down. I then remembered I’d told Killian I’d see him after the signing was over. “I gotta go.”

  Skye gave Lucy a significant look. “She’s gotta go hook up.”

  “No! I have an appointment I can’t miss.” I grabbed my purse and started running before they followed me out. I waved. “I’ll call you,” I added, praying they’d get the hint.

  When I was out in the hall, I scanned the area for Killian but couldn’t spot him anywhere. Was he late? Had he left?

  No, a man who’d taken out ads like that wouldn’t just leave. Maybe he’d gone to the bathroom or something. I wished I’d gotten his number when he asked me to sign the book…except that would’ve been super weird.

  “Ms. Breckenridge?” a man in a suit said. A golden pin with his name—Piers Mathieson—and division—Concierge—shone on the lapel of his suit.

  “Yes?” I said, wondering what he wanted me for. Had Lucy and Skye sent a gift to congratulate me for topping the chart? But wouldn’t it have been more efficient for this man to leave it in my room instead of tracking me down?

  “Mr. Axelrod requested that I relay a message: that he is waiting for you on the rooftop garden terrace.”

  “Oh.” For a second I was disappointed he hadn’t come in person, then shook myself mentally. Did I want people staring and asking me if they were seeing the Killian Axelrod? No, I did not.

  “This way, if you please.” The man led me to the elevator, stuck his card key into the security slot and hit the RGT button. “Enjoy your time, Ms. Breckenridge.”

  “Thank you,” I said as the doors closed.

  The car moved smoothly to the top floor, not making a single stop along the way. I licked my lips, then clasped my slightly damp hands together. Nerves fluttered in my belly. I still couldn’t believe Killian had asked me to marry me at the signing. Actually, I couldn’t believe he even attended it. By all accounts, Killian loathed airplanes, and it was a long flight from Virginia to San Francisco.

  I wiped my hands on my jeans, not wanting to appear overly nervous or anxious. Even though we’d parted after an ugly fight, the only response that popped into my head when I saw his proposal was a resounding yes. It had taken all my willpower to hold back and ask him to talk to me later.

  But I wanted to know why he was proposing after saying all those hurtful things. What made him change his mind? I wanted to make sure we were both on the same page before we committed to something as huge as marriage. I might be cynical about romance in real life, but that didn’t mean I wanted my relationship with Killian to fail.

  Taking a deep breath, I stepped out into the huge garden. The lawn was lush and soft. Pink roses in full bloom twisted around twin arches. But it was the sight of an endless sea of flowers that stunned me. The air was heavy with their sweet fragrance, and I walked into the middle of it, where Killian stood by a table set for two, waiting.

  He looked brilliant under the sun, his hair slightly messy, his blue eyes focused and determined. Although he was smiling, his jaw was set in a resolute line.

  My knees grew weak, but I managed to remain standing, breathing shallowly. God, I was so nervous. And hopeful.

  “Emily.” His raspy voice sent shivers down my back.

  “Hi,” I said, unsure how t
o start.

  “Wanna sit down?” he asked, pulling out a chair.

  “No, thanks. I’ve been sitting for hours.”

  He nodded, then pushed the chair back. “I bought full-page ads in all those papers.”

  “Yeah. I saw.” My mouth was parched. I felt like I should say something more, but I still wasn’t sure what. If I’d run into him immediately after seeing the ads, I might’ve said, “I forgive you,” but I was seeing him after he’d proposed.

  He frowned a little. “I thought you didn’t.”

  “How could I miss them? They were next to Dad’s ads in the papers.”

  “So… I know they weren’t really that eloquent.” He frowned a little. “I wanted to say, ‘I’m sorry. I acted like an asshole,’ but apparently newspapers don’t like people using words like asshole in their ads.”

  I let out a small laugh at how serious and annoyed he sounded.

  “So I’m going to ask.” He cleared his throat. “Can you forgive me for jumping the gun and acting like an idiot?”

  I nodded. “Yeah. Thinking back on it… You tried to ask me who was in charge of my accounts, and my answer probably didn’t reassure you.”

  “I overreacted because I thought you were the one.” He took a step closer and held my eyes. “And you are the one. You make me laugh. You make me feel like a person, not some rock icon. When I saw you again at the signing, I knew I was looking at my future, and if I didn’t hold on to you, I’d regret it for the rest of my life.” He pulled out the ring he’d taped to the book. “This is my grandmother’s ring. The one my grandfather put on her finger when he proposed to her. I want us to live in love and happiness like they did, Emily.”

  Love for him fisted around my heart, swift and firm, like it was going to be part of me forever. I couldn’t breathe, and my eyes grew hot with tears of joy. I looked at the simple diamond solitaire. His explanation made the ring even more special. The vision of our bright future stirred in my head, expanding until all I could think of was us, loving, laughing and growing old together.

  Killian dropped to one knee. “I love you, Emily. Will you marry me?”