She slanted her gaze to mine and gave me a funny smile as she dug the keys out of her pocket.
I waited on the sidewalk, watching the slow-moving traffic on Sixth while she locked up the gallery.
“Where do you want to go?” she asked, joining me at the curb.
“Home, baby. Take me home.”
* * *
I waited until Cameron fell asleep, then tiptoed to my closet, my jewelry box tucked under my arm. We’d come to my loft since it was closer to the gallery. And strangely, there was no weirdness. It was like Cameron fit into my space. Just like he did in my head and in my heart.
Dropping onto my butt, I criss crossed my legs and laid the box in front of me. Fur Elise played softly as I dug out the note Cameron had written me before he left Dallas. I’d never read it. And maybe I shouldn’t now. But I didn’t want there to be anything unsaid between us. I’d hurt him, and he’d forgiven me. But there was a part of me that needed to know how much.
As I slipped the letter from the plastic bag, a silver necklace slid out. A guitar pick on a dainty gold chain with a diamond in the corner. Smiling, I ran my thumb over my name, inscribed on the back, along with the date Cameron and I had met.
Holding the treasure to my heart, I read the first line of the letter. No, not a letter. A song.
“You wrote me a song…” I whispered in amazement.
“Yeah, I did.” Whipping my head around, I blinked at Cameron. Smiling, he pushed off the door frame and closed the distance between us. “Whatcha doing, baby?”
Holding up the paper, I shrugged. “I never read this. I thought… I assumed…”
Plopping down behind me, he wrapped me in his arms. “You thought I left you hate mail?” He kissed my temple. “What am I going to do with you?”
I snuggled against his chest. “Sing me your song.”
“It’s your song.”
Slanting my gaze up to his, I smiled. “Then sing me my song.”
And he did. Easing me onto my back, he gave me all the words. And all his love. And when he slipped inside me a moment later, whispering the final refrain against my lips, I tasted all my tomorrows in his kiss.
* * *
Three months later
Glancing at the clock in the dressing room at the Parish, I checked the time and then turned my attention back to my lyrics. I’d been writing like a demon since Lily and I got together. I had enough material for two albums. It was a good variety. Sad stuff from the six weeks we were apart, and a bunch of soulful ballads.
Now the band just needed to work out a deal with our label. Metro had come to us with a bullshit offer, which we’d declined, and now we were in a holding pattern. Without a manager to negotiate for us, the other labels hadn’t thrown their hats into the ring.
Surprisingly, I wasn’t sweating it. Lily and I were still in the honeymoon phase of our relationship. I didn’t want to leave her to go out to LA and record an album. And after four years of touring, the band needed the time off. I was happy and content playing our weekly gig at Chase’s club on Sixth. For the moment, anyway.
Logan barreled through the door. “You’ll never guess who’s here,” he said, rubbing his hands together feverishly. “Dylan Boothe and Beckett Brennin. Front row.”
Sean crashed through the door with Christian hot on his heels. “Guess who’s here?”
“Dylan and Beckett,” I deadpanned, trying to hide my smile when his face fell.
Dylan Boothe and Beckett Brennin were the lead singers for Leveraged—the biggest band in the country. They hailed from Austin and were one-third of the Big Three—the powerhouse trio of bands from our city. Titans in the industry, they dominated the charts and sold out venues all over the world.
Sean grabbed a beer from the bucket on the table and twisted off the cap. “What do you think they’re doing here? And where’s the rest of the crew?”
We knew every member of the Big Three, but not well. All twelve members still resided in Austin. Still frequented the clubs and dive bars. And every one of the bands had played the Parish. But that was before my brother bought the club. So it’s not like we rubbed elbows with any of them frequently.
Chewing on the pen I was holding, I reclined against the couch cushions. “They’re not touring right now.”
“I’m surprised Tori let them stray that far from home base,” Logan said, motioning for me to throw him a beer. “She keeps pretty close tabs on them. I don’t know how they can stand it, letting their manager call all the shots.”
The room fell silent for a moment, the way it always did when someone spoke about Tori Grayson. Her band, Damaged, was the first band out of Austin in two decades to hit it big. Huge. Tragically, they were cut down at the height of their fame. A freak bus accident took the life of Rhenn Grayson, Tori’s husband and the genius front man for Damaged, and Paige Dawson, her best friend and their lead guitarist. Tori almost died in the accident. But after she recovered, she formed Twin Souls Management with her other best friend, Taryn Ayers. Logan and I had been trying to get one or both of them to return our calls for weeks with no luck.
Logan sighed. “I know Tori’s not a ‘regular’ manager; but she’s not performing anymore. I had to do a double take when I saw her in the paper a couple weeks ago. She was wearing a suit. I mean, it was a chick suit, and she looked pretty fucking hot, but it was still a suit.”
“Dude.” Sean shook his head incredulously. “You know why she doesn’t perform. Have a little empathy.”
“Who cares how she looks—it’s a miracle she’s still breathing,” Christian added quietly. “She broke nearly every bone in her body.” Wincing, he reached reflexively for his side. The injury was slow to heal, taking a month before he was able to walk around without taping his ribs. And he was only in the hospital overnight. Tori had been in a rehab center for months after the accident.
Looking at the clock above the door, I felt the band around my chest tighten. Lily was on the road, making the two-hundred-mile trip from Dallas. Her mom still hadn’t come around, but Marcus was making an effort. Lily refused his offers to fly her to Dallas on the Tennison’s private jet when she visited. And even though she drove a safe car, and the roads where good, the thought of her bleeding or broken from an accident turned my blood to ice water.
Logan read my expression, his brow furrowing. “Lily’s not back yet?”
I glanced at the clock again. “She’s on her way.”
Sean stood up to grab a beer, nodding toward my phone. “Call her.”
The guys loved Lily almost as much as I did.
“Yeah, I think I will,” I said, swiping my finger over the screen. My leg bobbed as I waited for her to answer. One ring. Three. The band around my heart loosened when she finally picked up.
“Hey, baby!” I shouted, barely able to hear myself think over the blast of music in the background.
“What are you yelling at, Cam?” she asked, the amusement in her tone evident when she turned down the volume.
The guys sipped their beers, taking in the floorshow. Since girls weren’t allowed in the dressing room any longer, this was the only entertainment they got.
“Nothing.” Raising my brows at them, I put my index finger to my lips. “Where are you?”
She let out a sigh. “We go through this all the time. If I tell you where I’m at, you’re going to start worrying. And if I hit traffic, you’ll be distracted when you go onstage. I’ll be there in a little while. You know I wouldn’t miss tonight.”
Tonight… our four-month anniversary. The nerves twisting my gut kicked into overdrive.
“Okay. Be careful.”
“I will.” I was about to hang up when she said, “I love you.”
It never got old. Not the first time she’d said it, and not now.
“I love you too, baby. So damn much.”
“I love you, Lily. So much,” Logan mimicked me in a high-pitched voice, making smacking noises as he leaned toward the phone. He jumped back
when I jerked the beer bottle I was holding, spewing suds on his vintage Pearl Jam t-shirt.
“Asshole,” he muttered.
Lily cracked up. “Be nice. I’ll see you soon.”
The call ended, and I looked down at her picture on my phone. She was it for me. Everything. All the things.
Three loud raps on the door brought me back to the present. Moving to the door, Logan looked over his shoulder at me. I raised a brow in warning.
“I know, you big pussy,” he groused, leveling me with a glare as he pulled the door open. “No chicks in the dressing room.”
“Well, I’m in the clear,” Dylan Boothe said as he sauntered in, an easy smile on his face, “since I don’t have a vagina.” He turned and looked at Beckett who was a step behind. “Better wait outside, Becks.”
The room burst into a fit of raucous laughter.
“Very funny, asshat.” Beckett chuckled.
Sean reached into the metal ice bucket, offering the guys a beer. They took the bottles gratefully, surveying the dressing room.
Dylan leaned against the wall. “Sweet setup you guys got here. I wouldn’t mind spending a few weeks at home.”
“I wouldn’t mind selling out a few of those arenas,” Logan retorted. “But we needed a break. Why are you guys in town?”
“Eh, Tori called a meeting.” Dylan shrugged, letting his eyes drift around the dressing room. “She’s announcing a big tour for next year. Big Three, charity events, the whole fucking circus.”
The tour would be major if the Big Three were involved.
“That sounds epic,” I said and, taking a sip of my beer, I glanced at the clock. Again.
“Are y’all touring soon?” Dylan asked, looking confused when my bandmates turned to me.
“What are y’all looking at me for?” I scowled at my bandmates. “I’m not the one that books the tours. And I didn’t fire our manager.”
“Hey!” Logan protested. “I was standing up for your girl, man. Remember?”
He was right. And as I’d predicted, he’d taken all the heat.
“You know, I could talk to Taryn for you,” Dylan offered. “She might be able to solve your management issue. No promises though.”
“Taryn?” Crossing his arms, Logan waited for Dylan to elaborate. “I thought y’all were exclusive with Tori?”
Dylan took a sip of his beer. “Taryn handles the talent. She took care of Damaged… before… you know… the thing.” As much as we were rocked by the tragedy, it paled in comparison to what Dylan and Beckett felt. They were at ground zero. Part of Rhenn Grayson’s posse. Childhood best friends. Leveraged had toured with Damaged since the beginning.
“And Taryn’s always managed us,” Beckett added. “Since she’s my girl.”
“Was your girl,” Dylan said quietly, drawing a scowl from Beckett.
I bit down a smile. I didn’t have a beef with Beckett personally, but we were rivals when it came to the music. He did most of the writing and arranging, the same way I did for Caged. And the boy could shred a guitar.
“Anyway.” Dropping his bottle in the metal trashcan, Dylan turned to Logan. “I’ll talk to Taryn about y’all. She’s got a lot going on right now. If you guys aren’t in a big rush, signing with Twin Souls is worth the wait.”
We all nodded when Dylan’s gaze swept the room to get our buy in. Signing with Twin Souls was definitely worth the wait. But I wasn’t holding my breath. We weren’t going to get saddled with some junior manager, even if it was at the most sought-after management company in the country. Tori was notorious for turning down any band that directly competed with the Big Three.
Logan patted Dylan on the back “Thanks, man. We’d really appreciate the good word.”
“No problem.” He motioned to Beckett, who pushed to his feet. “We’ll let y’all get ready. Think of this as an audition.” He pulled open the door. “I might record a little something- something to show Taryn.”
Lifting my chin to them, I smiled nervously. The other guys did the same.
Logan’s laugh died the minute he closed the door.
“We can’t suck,” he said as he leaned against the wall, his face losing a little color. “We absolutely can’t suck.”
The door creaked open, and my heart jumped into my throat.
“You never suck, Logan,” Lily said, patting him on the arm as she walked toward me.
All the tension left my body when I heard her voice. Time slowed down, and everything inside me stilled at her kiss.
“Hey, you,” I breathed, easing her onto my lap.
Christian groaned. “That’s our cue,” he said, smiling at us as he headed for the door.
“See you after the show, Lily,” Sean said, following Christian into the hall.
“No screwing on the couch. We all have to use it,” Logan said with a snort as he pulled the door closed behind him. It popped open a second later, and he peeked his head inside. “Glad you’re here, darlin’.”
“Thanks,” I said, waggling my brows.
He scowled at me when Lily cracked up. And then he was gone. And there was only her. My mouth claimed hers as I eased her onto her back on the sofa. When my hand slid to her breast, tugging at her bra, Lily tipped her head back.
“What’s your hurry?” she cooed.
It was probably then, when she’d stilled my heart with that phrase the first time we were together, that I fell in love with her. Or maybe it was before. Like I said in the song I wrote her—In a time before time, you were mine. And it was true. She’d always been mine. We were fated to find each other.
“No hurry, baby.” I pressed my forehead to hers. “Although, I was hoping for a little action before the show.”
Grinding my hips against hers, I slid my tongue along her bottom lip.
“Later.” She shoved at my chest. “You’ve got a show to do. And from what I gather, it’s really important.”
Nodding, I sat up. There was only one thing more important. But given Dylan and Beckett’s presence, all my plans might fall by the wayside if everyone decided to go out after the gig.
Do it now.
Lily got up to grab a drink from the fridge, while I fumbled to get the small box out of my pocket.
“You want something?” she asked, and when I didn’t answer she turned to me. “Shiner, or—?”
Her mouth fell open when she found me on one knee. “I do want something. I want you, Lily. I know it’s only been four months. But four seems to work for us. And I don’t care if you want a long engagement and a big wedding. Or if you want to run to the courthouse tomorrow and just get it over with, I want to marry you.”
Catching her around the waist when she wobbled, I pulled her against me and searched her face. There was no crinkle on her brow. No clouds to mar the perfect blue in her eyes. No hesitation.
“Of c-course I’ll marry you. I love you, Cameron.”
Before she could say another word, my mouth was on hers, swallowing her giggles and the moans that followed.
The cheers from the audience began to shake the walls. That was my cue. The opening act was finished. Time for the main event.
The end…
* * *
Cameron and Lily found their happy ever after. But what about the rest of the band? Will they ever find love?
The holidays are approaching, and the guys from Caged have a little break. You know what happens when rock stars have too much time on their hands, right? They get into all sorts of trouble.
But you probably wouldn’t expect Christian to break all the rules…in a library? Would you?
Love isn’t an emotion—it’s a chemical reaction.
Like gasoline meeting a flame. Eventually, the fire burns out.
Luckily I’m in the right business. Women don’t expect more than I can give.
When I meet Melody, I’m on board for a little fun.
I admit, she’s under my skin. But since we share the same philosophy there’s no chance this will turn in
to anything more.
Is there?
One-click FALL WITH ME now!
* * *
* * *
If you loved Cameron and Lily’s love story, you won’t be able to sleep once you start reading MISSING FROM ME.
Sean had it all with Anna Dresden. His one true love. His muse. His music.
Until one night ruined everything.
One mistake. Four years of regret. What would you do for a second chance?
When I traded one dream for another, she was the price. My Anna. But I never forgot her. Never let go. Her music is in my head.
Still...Always...
And when I see her again, it's so clear. Anna is mine. She'll always be mine. I just have to convince her.
Don’t wait. One-click MISSING FROM ME now!
Flawed
An Extended Epilogue
Claudia Burgoa
* * *
I love my brothers. I just can’t wait for the day when each of them has their own family. Also, for them to have their own place so we can take turns hosting the holidays. This is our second year and I’m over it. My beautiful, patient, and bright wife doesn’t think the same. She loves having everyone in the house and enjoying what she didn’t have when she was growing up—a family.
“Why isn’t your grandfather hosting Thanksgiving?” I ask.
“Mrs. Fairmont tries to invite herself to every event we have at his place,” Willow answers as she takes out the pie crusts from the oven.
“Who is she again?”
It’s hard to keep up with Mr. Beesley’s admirers. My sister-in-law, Hazel, calls him the Classic Heartthrob of Park Avenue. He might be in his late seventies but he has several women asking him out for coffee—or to their yachts for the weekend.
“Beatrice Fairmont is his neighbor from 1220 B. Her husband died a couple of years ago, and now she’s ready to date,” she pauses and smirks. “But she’s too stuffy for his taste.”