by T. K. Leigh
A few excruciating seconds tick by, then Asher bellows, “Stop!”
The entire house falls eerily silent. I hold my breath, waiting for what’s next, praying Jessie hasn’t had a chance to press my contact.
“Why don’t you want me to call Izzy?” The accusation in his tone is obvious. Asher may excel at a lot of things, but he’s never been a good liar. Jessie knows that.
“I just… I don’t want it to be uncomfortable for you, considering your past.”
“It’ll be fine. I’ll compartmentalize it, even if it’s still hard, knowing she’ll never be mine again.”
I swallow hard at the hurt that’s still evident.
“Even all these years later?” Asher asks timidly.
“I’ll always want her,” Jessie answers, his voice unwavering. “Nothing will ever change that.”
His words hit me hard, and I close the door as quietly as I can. My heart heavy, I make my way back to the bed, my mind a daze as I lower myself onto the mattress. Is any of this worth it, especially knowing the potential casualties? I can’t see how. Asher must realize this, too. How can he not?
Minutes tick by as I remain in my trance. When I hear the familiar sound of feet striking against the stairs, I snap out of my thoughts. Ripping Asher’s t-shirt off, I hurriedly collect my clothes, pulling my panties back on before securing my bra.
As I slide the sleeves of my dress over my arms, Asher barrels into the room. I briefly whip my eyes to his before looking away, doing my best to zip up my dress, despite the difficult angle.
“This is going to look horrible,” I say nervously. “But it’s a Saturday in Manhattan. I’m not the only one doing the walk of shame this morning.”
“You overheard, didn’t you?”
“It’s kind of hard not to in this house.” I chew on my lower lip, fidgeting with my hands.
“I’m sorry, Iz.”
I force a smile. “It’s okay. I get it. We’ve been here before.”
“No.”
“No?” I scrunch my brows together.
He clutches my face in his hands. “I’m sorry I wasn’t truthful with him. I will be. I promise. I have every intention of telling him about us.” He drops his hold on me, stepping back, dragging his hand through his wayward locks. “But there are complications. I need to call my attorney and get a new manager lined up first.”
“A new manager?”
He shrugs, peering at me with sad eyes. “Not sure there’s much of a choice here. Even if I’m able to convince Jessie there was no ill-intent on my part, on either of our parts, it might be an awkward working relationship. At least at first. So it’s in my best interest to think worst-case scenario and have a backup ready to take over. Just in case.”
I stare at the charcoal shade of the walls as I listen to him go on about the logistics of what a relationship with me means. All things I hadn’t considered while we remained in our bubble. It’s not just the potential severing of his life-long relationship and bond with his brother. It’s also the end of Asher’s professional arrangement with Jessie.
Possibly the end of Jessie’s career.
“Are you sure about this? I understand if you’d—”
He’s in front of me in a heartbeat, clasping my hands in his. “Yes, Izzy. I’m sure. I have been from the beginning.” He angles toward me, his warm breath on my lips erasing all my fears. “Like I told you back at Grams’ lake house… I’d choose you if you’d let me. And you’re finally letting me. I’m not giving this up for anything.” He touches his mouth to mine, his kiss perfect in its simplicity.
“Face it, darlin’.” He winks playfully. “You’re stuck with me.” His tone turns serious. “Even if I have to love you in the shadows for a little while longer.” His shoulders fall, and he appears genuinely remorseful at the thought of having to keep me a secret. But if that’s the cost to be happy, it’s one I’m willing to pay.
I lift myself onto my toes, draping my arms loosely around his neck. “As much as it sucks, I kind of like the idea of you loving me in the shadows.”
“Really?”
“Hell yeah.” I dig my nails into his exposed chest, his muscles tensing under my touch. “Couples role-play forbidden relationships all the time, pretend to have sex in secret.” My voice turns breathy and seductive as my hand travels farther and farther south. “Think how much fun we can have with this.”
He lifts a single brow. “What did you have in mind?”
“I have a few ideas.”
Allowing my dress to fall back to the floor, I lower myself to my knees and crane my head back, admiring the beautiful, addictive man I kneel before. The look he’s giving me — the heat in his eyes, the need in his expression, the desperation in his grip on my head — is better than any aphrodisiac.
“But first…” I unbutton his jeans, then lower the zipper, my gaze never leaving his as I push them down his legs. “I believe you wanted me to suck you off.”
“Oh, darlin’…”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Excited voices fill the backstage VIP area when Chloe, Lincoln, and I arrive later in the evening. It’s only been a few hours since Asher put me into a car to take me back to my apartment, but it feels like an eternity has passed. I shouldn’t have come tonight, but he begged me to. Said he needed me in the audience when he stepped onto that stage as the headlining act at Madison Square Garden, something he’s only dreamed of since the second he picked up his guitar as a young boy.
“Are you going to tell me what caused the sudden change of heart?” Chloe presses. “Yesterday, you were adamant about not coming tonight. And now?” She scans my body that’s clad in a tight, black tank and fitted jeans, complete with heels. “You’re all dolled up like you’re fucking the lead singer.”
“Chloe,” I hiss as we’re steered toward a line. “I’m not…” I trail off. I can’t even tell her I’m not fucking the lead singer. I look up at Lincoln, who’s dressed in his standard dark jeans and blazer, despite being at a rock concert. Chloe and he really are as opposite as they come. “Can you make your wife lower her voice? Maybe give her something to suck on?”
He chuckles. “Trust me. It won’t work. If there’s something on her mind, she’ll multi-task.”
“Plus, I’m more interested in what you’ve been sucking on.” She leans toward me, her voice barely audible. “I spoke to Nora this morning. She mentioned you went to that club opening with her.”
I avoid her eyes, holding my head high as I inch up the line. I hope there’s alcohol at the end of it.
She grabs my bicep, angling closer still. “She also mentioned Asher York played a set. Said you left after a song and went back to her apartment, where you finally told her all about him.”
“Your point?”
“My point is, what happened?”
I part my lips, unsure what to say. Asher and I agreed to keep this quiet for now while he speaks to his lawyer. I never considered what to tell my friends. Especially Chloe, my rather observant friend, who will surely figure out something’s going on with little effort.
“Like Nora said, we left after one song.”
“That is what she said…” Her analytical eyes study me in a way that makes me think I’m wearing a blinking neon sign announcing to the world I got laid last night. And this morning. And this afternoon. Hell, if she looks closely enough, she wouldn’t need a neon sign. The teeth marks on my neck would be all the evidence she needs to prove her case. Thank God for a decent concealer. “But I think there’s more to the story.”
“And I think you’re fishing for something that’s not real.”
“Not real, you say?”
“Exactly. There’s—”
“Then why is Asher York currently eye-fucking the shit out of you?” She nods toward the front of the line.
I follow her line of sight, my gaze falling on an incredibly sexy version of Asher. Granted, I’ve always found him sexy, but now that he’s all Mr. Rock and Roll, I can
’t stop my heart from speeding up. His hair is mussed up, but in a way that screams “just fucked”, not “just woke up”. His midnight blue jeans are the perfect fit — not too baggy, not too tight. His gray V-neck t-shirt hugs every sinewy muscle of his torso, not leaving much to the imagination.
“Now, if this were the first time you were seeing him after standing him up at the bar back in March, I’m not so sure he’d be mentally undressing you like he is. Which leads me to believe you’ve reconnected.” She rakes her analytical gaze over me. “Based on the blush building on those cheeks, I’d say several times. And it was damn good. Am I right?” She waggles her brows.
I look from her to Lincoln, who smirks, to Asher, then back to her again. “Fine,” I relent. “We may have worked things out.” I grip her arm, lowering my voice. “But you know what’s at stake. We need to keep it quiet, just for a little while longer.”
“But you’re eventually going public with it, right? This is finally for real?”
I pinch my lips together, nodding as I adjust my purse on my shoulder. “Yes. It’s finally for real.”
Chloe squeals, throwing her arms around my neck. I struggle to retain my balance, which is a difficult feat, especially in these heels. “Oh my god! I’m so freaking happy for you.”
“Miss,” a voice interrupts. I snap my eyes to see the line has moved, but we haven’t. “Your turn.”
I furrow my brow, confused. Then I realize what this line is for — a meet and greet.
Turning to Chloe and Lincoln, I shoot them a sly wink, then saunter toward Asher, his eyes heating.
“Hey, darlin’,” he murmurs in a low voice when I approach. God, that voice does things to me, especially knowing he reserves it just for me.
“Oh, my gosh. It’s Asher York,” I coo. “I’ve always wanted to meet a famous rockstar. Can you sign my boobs? Or maybe my ass?”
He chuckles as he drapes his arm around my shoulders, pulling me in close. “Just smile and think about how hard this rockstar is going to fuck you later.”
My gaze widens as the photographer snaps our picture. Then Asher nods at Lincoln and Chloe, gesturing them over. After they exchange hugs, we all pose for a photo.
“Everyone say Vegas,” Chloe chimes in at the last moment.
We erupt in laughter, which draws the attention of nearly all the guests in the pre-show party.
“I guess what happens in Vegas really doesn’t stay there,” Lincoln remarks.
“You two are living proof of that.” Asher smiles at Chloe, before shifting his gaze to mine. “And so are we.” It’s a simple thing, but the fact he told someone about us causes my heart to swell. Now I’m counting the days until he can tell the world. Until he can kiss me breathless in front of all his adoring fans, especially the heavily made-up women adjusting their cleavage in preparation to meet him. Until we can finally be us.
After saying our goodbyes, we join the rest of the VIP and ticket winners in the pre-show area. Several buffet tables line the far wall with all sorts of food. Chloe has no problem filling a plate with a bit of everything. I’m too on edge to think about eating, even more so when I notice Jessie walk into the room, Grams and his parents in tow. I practically down my entire glass of wine to settle my apprehension.
“Izzy!” Reagan exclaims when she notices me standing with Lincoln and Chloe. “It’s so wonderful to see you. We weren’t sure whether you’d be here.” She hugs me before holding me at arm’s length, and I bask in her motherly affection before she moves on, allowing Lincoln to kiss her cheek. “And Lincoln. I hear congratulations are in order.” She looks from him to Chloe, sighing. “Isn’t it amazing? A friend of Asher’s marrying a friend of Izzy’s. What are the chances?”
“I wondered the same thing,” Grams says, her voice laden with forced astonishment. I have a feeling she knows the true story.
“Grams.” I wrap my arms around her, melting into her embrace. There’s always been something soothing about her hugs. No matter the troubles plaguing me, I can find solace and encouragement in her love. “I’ve missed you.”
“And I’ve missed you, sweetheart.” She pulls back, taking my hand between both of hers. “I trust things are…better?”
I nod slightly, not wanting anyone else to pick up on our private conversation. She squeezes my hand, a silent acknowledgment.
“How did you two meet?” Jessie’s voice cuts through.
My body stiffens. I hadn’t even pondered the consequences of Jessie realizing Chloe and Lincoln are married, especially considering their connection to Asher and me.
“We had a one-night stand in Vegas,” Chloe answers nonchalantly.
“Obviously it turned into more than a one-night stand,” Sean interjects jovially.
“It did indeed, Mr. York.”
“It’s Sean, Chloe.”
“Of course, Sean.” She smiles as she returns her attention to the rest of Asher’s family. I steal a glimpse at Jessie. His eyes are narrowed into slits, mouth pinched into a tight line, arms crossed over his chest. “I was in Vegas last January for a bachelorette party. And I kept running into this guy.” She jabs Lincoln playfully.
My gaze darts between the two of them, sending her silent smoke signals to keep the details out of it. Like how they were stuck at the house where Asher was staying during the infamous blackout, then slept together after a game of Never Have I Ever got a bit risqué. Chloe never would have been at that house had it not been for me, a fact I doubt it would take Jessie long to figure out. And I can’t have him figure that out. Not yet.
God, I hate this. I hate all these mini panic attacks I seem to have whenever a conversation skirts perilously close to Jessie learning the truth. I just want him to know, and he will, but I hate this place of purgatory where I’m stuck between our relationship being public and being nothing. I don’t like being a secret. I don’t like the gray area.
A hand links with mine, squeezing. I look to my left, meeting Chloe’s eyes wordlessly telling me it’ll be okay. That I’ll get through it. She must know what I’m thinking. After all, she’s been in a similar situation. Her relationship with Lincoln was…complicated, yet they managed to survive. I pray Asher and I will, too.
“Such a small world, isn’t it?” Reagan muses.
I bring my glass to my lips. “It sure is.”
Over the next few hours, we mingle and socialize. Thankfully, Jessie was only able to stay for a little while before needing to busy himself with “manager duties”. The instant he left, it felt like a weight had lifted. I wasn’t the only one who noticed, either. Pretty sure even his parents did, too, which surprised me.
“Okay, folks!” A rather large man with security emblazoned on the back of his shirt makes his way through the room. “Fifteen minutes until Asher York takes the stage.”
“I suppose we should go see him,” Grams comments, downing a large swallow of her whiskey. I still can’t believe this woman is ninety years old. She doesn’t look it. And she certainly doesn’t act it. I’ve yet to meet a ninety-year-old who goes to rock concerts and drinks whiskey like she does. She always says you’re only as old as you act. At the rate she’s going, she’s probably only in her twenties or thirties.
“I suppose we should,” I respond, finishing off my wine.
As we navigate through the backstage corridors, I marvel at how busy and chaotic it seems. People with laminated passes hanging from the neck walk with purpose. Nearly every wall is lined with road cases labeled with various things — video, lighting, sound, rigging, wardrobe. Rows of guitars fill a rack, a tattooed man with camo shorts and black t-shirt checking the tuning. Excitement courses through my veins with this sneak peek into what it’s like to be backstage before a show. It’s not all glitz and glamour like they portray in books and movies, but nonetheless, it’s still exhilarating.
The noise level increases as we’re led through a maze of corridors and into the arena. In awe, I scan the massive space, every seat filled. It’s not the fi
rst time I’ve been to a concert here, but it’s a different experience to be led to a section just off the floor, surrounded by thousands of fans cheering for the man who owns my heart. And whose heart I possess, too.
When the lights go out, the decibel level grows louder still, the screams unlike anything I imagined.
“Holy shit,” I murmur as cell phones flash, people cheer, and feet stomp. I knew Asher had done well, that the album was well received. But this… It puts his fame into perspective. Fame he’s amassed because his music and lyrics spoke to people. A lot of people.
“I’m right there with you,” Chloe mutters, just as taken aback.
Then, in the darkness, the first chord of a familiar song cuts through the cheers and the crowd goes wild. Lights fill the stage, illuminating a drummer, keyboardist, bass player, and a few backup singers. In the middle of it all is Asher York, sauntering up to the microphone, a sly smile on his face.
The band repeats the opening measures a few times, giving the audience a chance to settle down, dancing and clapping along. Then, despite the size of the arena, Asher’s eyes float toward me, locking with mine.
“This one’s for you.”
The audience roars with excitement as he breaks into “My Favorite Almost”.
But I’m not his almost anymore. I’m his always.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Bliss. That’s the only way to describe this feeling, my current state of mind as I lay in my bed, my very own rockstar beside me. This sensation of being wrapped in his arms as his breath tickles my nape can’t truly be put into words. Other than it’s where I belong. All my life, I’ve searched for the missing piece in the puzzle of who I am. Not anymore. Asher’s my missing piece.
“Morning,” he rasps, his mouth peppering kisses against my nape.
“Morning,” I sigh as he pulls me closer. “Although, based on the amount of sun streaming through the windows, it’s probably closer to afternoon.”
“We both needed our rest after that workout you gave me last night, you vixen.” He pushes me onto my back, leaning down and nuzzling his nose into the crook of my neck.