Bookmarking where I was in the review files, I followed behind her. She had changed from her stilettos to flip flops since her feet no longer fit into anything. She looked so uncomfortable that most days all I wanted to do was rub her feet for her.
In her office, she sat on her chair, her hands instantly rubbing over her round belly. “I'm giving you the rest of today and tomorrow off.”
“Why?” I’d been here for a year and we’d never been as busy as we were now. The radio station was growing and we needed all the help we could get.
“Because I'm your boss and I can do that,” she joked before her playful smile faded. “This will probably be the last time you can actually have a day off, Emilia. I feel pretty good, so I need you to take the days off because I don't think I'm going to make it much longer. Enjoy the weekend and enjoy your Fourth of July.”
“But there's—”
“There's nothing,” she interjected. “This is not up for discussion. You’re taking these days off. You’re going to enjoy yourself and not work. I have given my letter to Human Resources. Tomorrow will be my last day. When you return on the fifth, you’ll be on your own.” She paused and crossed her arms over her chest. “So take the time off, relax your mind, and know that when you come back on Tuesday you're running the show.”
I leaned back and stared at her wide-eyed. Was this real? I was really getting a five day weekend?
“What are you still doing in my office? Go pack up your stuff and go home! Enjoy a mini-vacation.”
I walked over to Cinthia, leaned down, and hugged her. It was the last time I would see her before her baby arrived. “You're a pretty awesome boss, you know that?”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Go before I change my mind.”
Within five minutes of leaving Cinthia's office, I had packed my desk and was headed towards the elevator. As I approached the steel doors, a banner plastered on the wall to the left listed the tour schedule. Fourth of July weekend they were in Salt Lake City, a ten-hour car ride—not terrible. I could surprise Weston and spend the weekend with him. It would break up our time apart. Yanking my phone out of my purse, I sent Leslie a text message.
Me: Fake that you're sick and go home right now. Call out for tomorrow, too. We're going to see the guys.
When I arrived home, Leslie's car was already parked in our driveway. I rushed inside and headed straight to my room. “Pack your bags. We’re leaving in fifteen minutes,” I shouted. Tugging my closet door open, I pulled out my duffle bag and started to toss things in.
“Do we even have tickets? How the hell are we going to get in?”
“I work for the company. It won't be that hard to get through security.” I shoved my makeup and hair dryer into the bag. “Plus, I called Sally and she’s getting me the info on where they’re staying.”
Leslie's fist punched through the air. “Road trip!”
She sashayed out of my room as I continued to pack.
Leslie took the first five hours to rest as I drove out of Los Angeles and towards Utah. I stopped to fill up the gas tank,use the restroom and grabbed something to eat, then Leslie drove the remaining five hours. Finally, we pulled up to the hotel where the band was staying.
According to Sally, the radio station had rented the guys a two bedroom suite. Four men sleeping in two rooms … That must be fun. After I’d checked in, reserving a room for Weston and me to share, I headed to their suite. Butterflies flapped in my stomach as the seconds ticked by until I saw him. Gnawing on my inner lip, I tapped on their hotel room door. From the outside, we could hear music playing and Pete laughing.
The door pulled open and a pretty blonde with perky double D’s held it open. Her shirt was cut right below her chest, revealing her aqua bra. My expression instantly changed from happy to pissed. “You don't look like pizza.” Her valley girl dialect probably complemented her airhead IQ.
“Oh, shit!” Pete shouted. Ignoring them both, I shoved the door wide and walked in. A small kitchenette connected to the dining and living space, and it reeked of beer and stale Chinese food. My anger increased by the second as I lost focus on my surroundings.
I needed to find Weston.
My eyes landed on Harry. A girl sat next to him with her hands between his legs. Axel had two girls sitting on his lap, making out with each other as he watched. Another brunette was bent over the table, her booty shorts cut so high it should be considered a thong. She held her hair as she snorted a line of white powder off the table. My heart sank as she offered the rolled up dollar to Weston. His guitar sat on his lap and his head hung low. His eyes snapped up to the brunette offering him a hit, and he spotted me standing in front of him.
My vision became clear.
Someone had turned off the TV, and all I could hear was Leslie arguing with Harry in the background, but I didn't care. I needed to get the hell out of there. I twirled around and stormed out the door, my fists clenched at my sides.
“Emilia, wait!” Weston shouted from behind me. I jogged down the hotel corridor and pressed the button for the elevator.
I needed fresh air.
I needed to throw up.
I needed to hit something.
His footfalls slowed behind me and his hands laced around my elbow as he turned me. I yanked my arm away. “Don't touch me!”
“Let me explain.” His eyes were wide.
I hadn’t seen him in months and this was our reunion. How could he do this to me? “Explain? Explain what exactly, Weston? The orgy fest, or that there's cocaine all over the goddamn fucking mirror!” My voice was so loud it ricocheted down the hallway.
“It's not what it looks like.”
“Whatever.”
The elevator doors slid open and I climbed inside the car. Weston began to follow me and I spun to face him. “Don't you dare follow me. Leave me the hell alone. I never want to see you again!”
I pushed the close door button on the elevator panel and leaned back against the cool wall. Once the doors closed and I was cocooned inside, the tears finally began to fall. This was why I didn’t fall in love. This was why I don't break the rules I set in place to keep my heart safe.
After a few minutes, I realized that the elevator wasn't moving. I looked at the panel and saw that I hadn't picked the floor. Pressing the button for the lobby, I leaned my head on the polished steel wall. The doors opened to the lobby, and a frantic Weston stepped inside. He pressed the button to close the doors and hit the highest floor. My will to fight him had diminished, cracked. I bowed my head before him, my chin resting on my chest. A sob broke the silence. He closed the gap between us.
“No!” I pushed him away. When he didn't budge, my hands balled into fists and slammed into his chest. “You're an asshole!” I cried. “How could you do this to me? To us!”
“Shh, babe.” He wrapped his hands around me, his broad arms caging me in. “Please don't cry, Emilia. I promise you, it's not what it looks like.”
I continued to cry as the elevator stopped and Weston led me to the hallway and towards the emergency staircase. He didn't say a word as he ushered me towards the roof. My sniffles were all that could be heard as we walked up the extra flight.
This was the end.
I would hear what he had to say and we would have our closure.
This was what a broken heart felt like. Fuck you, love.
Once the warm breeze hit my face, I turned to face him. “Why are there drugs in your room?”
Weston smiled and walked towards me. “Can I please kiss you first?”
“No!” I held my hands to stop him in his tracks. “Weston, answer the question. Why are there drugs in your room? The girls? How can you sit there and tell me every night how much you love me while I'm sitting at home crying, missing you, and you’re doing that?”
With quick, short strides, he closed the gap between us. His hands cupped my cheeks and his eyes locked with mine. “I love you, Emilia. I've never touched drugs a day in my life. The girls are there because Axe
l, Harry, and Pete bring them back, but I've never touched anyone since you became mine.”
Searching for the truth, I scanned his eyes. “Why are you in the midst of it all?”
“Because I'm sober. If one of them decides to drive somewhere, or if one of those girls claims rape, there’s not an ounce of alcohol in my body and there are no drugs to be traced. I’m their designated driver because, at the end of the day, this is my career and this tour is a business opportunity. I can't let them fuck it up because they can't stay away from pussy and drugs.” His thumbs wiped away a new wave of tears.
I shook my head. I wanted to believe him, but I needed time to think. I needed to clear my mind, and Weston being so close didn't give me that opportunity. I stepped back and took in the city lights around us. “I need some space. I need to think this through. This is all too familiar for me, Weston, and I don't know if I can do this.” I palmed my mouth to cover another sob.
“Don't say that.” He reached for me, but I pulled away.
“I'm sorry,” I said, shaking my head. “I just need some time.”
Wiping my tear soaked cheeks, I jogged toward the door. Needing to walk, I took the stairs all the way down to the main lobby. Weston didn’t follow me. I rushed to my car and shoved my key into the ignition. I wanted to go home, to get the hell away from this place, but I couldn't leave Leslie behind. I looked at my phone to see if I had any new messages from her, but nothing. It was safe to assume she’d looked the other way and forgiven Harry yet again.
I sat in my car in the dead silence of the night until there were no more tears to be shed and my body was weary. By the time I found my way back to my room, it was almost one in the morning. The night I had envisioned in Weston's arms had become just another night alone in a cold bedroom.
I called down to the front desk and asked for a wake-up call and a do not disturb until then. I turned my cell phone off, took a long shower and slipped under the covers. If Leslie needed me, she knew my room number.
I heard a soft tap on the door, and at first, I was hesitant to open it, but then I thought of Leslie sleeping outside. She had sworn she would spend the night with Harry and refused to get a room for herself. Kicking the covers off my body, I strolled over to the door.
When I pulled it back, Weston stood there with his head lowered. “Is this enough time?” He looked up at me. “You asked for space, but this is as much space as you're going to get, Emilia. I don't know how long you're here for—I didn't even know you were coming—but I can't sleep knowing you're only a few rooms away and crying yourself to sleep. It kills me.”
Deep down, I knew he wasn't drunk. The Weston I knew would never touch any illegal substance. And I knew he wasn’t with those girls. I reminded myself that what I had with him was different.
I held the door open for him to walk in. The second the door shut behind me, his arms wrapped around me and his mouth landed on my lips. Weeks of longing made our kiss so much more powerful. I cried as my mouth opened for him to take.
“I can't give you space, Emilia,” he mumbled between kisses. “You are it for me.”
Weston lifted me by my thighs. I wrapped my legs around his waist and his starving lips remained on my skin as he carried me back to bed. He lay me on the mattress and then undressed, leaving nothing on but his boxers. Weston crawled into bed with me, his arms coiled around my body as he held me close.
“Say something.” He brushed my hair back with his hands.
“I love you so much it hurts.”
Weston kissed the top of my head, his lips tender and soft. “I love you more than life itself.”
Exhausted from the drive and fighting, I rested my head on his chest and drifted into slumber.
I came out of the shower, my hair wrapped in a towel and Weston’s T-shirt covering my body. He sat on the edge of the bed, his hands fondling a black felt jewelry bag. The air between us felt stiff.
“Do you want to go get some breakfast?” I asked to break the ice.
“I have something for you first.”
I sat next to him in on the bed. His finger dipped inside the jewelry bag and retrieved an antique gold ring. Small delicate roses were carved into the band. He held it between his fingers as he admired its intricate design.
“My grandfather played the guitar every night at this restaurant Mama worked at. She said that's how he won her heart.” He twirled the ring in his hand. “When I showed interest in music, Mama gave me his guitar and this was in the case. Pops worked until his hands were raw to get my grandmother this ring. It was a token of his love for her. When he passed, she put it in the case. I tried to give her back the ring, but she said when I found someone to love I should give it to them.”
He shifted on the bed and took my hands in his. “I love you, Emilia, and I want you to have this. Let it remind you that I'll always be loyal to you.”
“It’s beautiful,” I whispered as he slid it on my middle finger.
“As long as you wear it, you’ll know that I’ll never do anything to jeopardize our relationship. And as long as you’re wearing it, I’ll know that you still have faith in us.”
I cupped his scruffy cheeks with my small hands. “I love you more than I could ever imagine, Weston Carter.”
“It’s you and me, babe,” he whispered against my lips.
As our lips moved together, my thumb twirled my new ring. It was all the assurance I needed to push every doubt out of my mind.
Or so I thought.
Leslie and I stood on the side of the stage as the guys performed. Watching Weston on stage was surreal. He was a natural, and the crowd loved him. What wasn't there to love? He was a hot guy on stage singing his heart out. As his girlfriend, it sucked to see how much other females wanted him, but as his biggest fan, it was great to see him grow.
Entranced by Weston's performance, I didn't notice a guy standing next to me until his shoulder bumped mine. I looked up at him. “Sorry.” He was a tall, attractive guy. His hair was curly and long, and his nose was crooked enough to make him appealing. The tag that hung from his neck told me his name was Paulie.
“No need to be sorry.” He smiled and I was greeted by his pearly whites. “I was trying to get your attention earlier, but you've been so focused on the band.” He stepped closer and I pulled away. He was invading my personal space. “I have VIP seats for the show if you'd like to join me there.” He pointed to a section in the crowd that had been marked off for special guests. I ignored him and focused my attention back on the band, but he continued to speak. “I'm really good friends with Jim Johnson and the group Certified. We're having a really exclusive party later on. You should come by. Maybe we'll get to know each other a little better.”
Not only did he seem like a cocky ass who had no problem name dropping other artists on the tour, but he was ruining my concentration. “Thanks, but no thanks. I actually have plans tonight with my boyfriend.” Get the hint, buddy.
“My bad, but if you change your mind, just give me a holler.” He retrieved his business card from his back pocket and handed it over to me. Wright Management was written on the front. I held on to it long enough to toss when he walked away. I looked over at Leslie; her eyebrows were scrunched together, silently questioning me.
“Some douche.”
I brushed off our encounter and continued to listen to Weston. His time was almost up. He pulled out his guitar and sat on a stool. I’d never seen him play it on stage. Usually, it was in the house when he was working on a song. Lowering the microphone, he spoke to the crowd.
“How's everyone feeling tonight? Thank you all for coming out. I know you guys are ready to rock, but before we leave, I have a special song.” Weston lowered his gaze; his fingers ran over the guitar strings as he strummed each cord.
It was his song. His original song that he’d written; the same song I’d helped him in the studio with. I was witnessing his dreams become a reality. The crowd was silent as they listened to him play, wrapping a
round their soul and captivating them. When he finished, the crowd cheered and I jumped with joy.
Weston exited the stage and darted towards me. His hands wrapped around my body as he swung me in the air. I giggled and squeezed my arms around his before I leaned down and kissed his soft lips. My boyfriend, the lead singer.
“Did you like it, babe?”
“I fucking loved it!” I shouted and then kissed him again.
The other band began setting up for their performance as we walked toward the backstage. The guys were already planning their night out, and Leslie was tagging along with Harry. Weston braided my hand with his and brought his lips to my ear.
“I have something special planned for us.” A small grin appeared on his face and his eyes immediately darkened. I knew that look.
The drive from the arena to the hotel seemed to take longer than the ten hour drive to Salt Lake City. My foot tapped on the car floor as Weston drove. When he parked, his gaze met mine, his eyes filled with want and desire. Without a second thought, I hopped over the center console and onto his lap.
It had been too long.
Weston's hands cupped my breasts, his thumbs playing with my nipples through my bra. Moaning in ecstasy, I let him reach under my shirt, lower my bra, and pinch my pebbled nipples. I lowered my mouth to his and captured him in a deep kiss. Our tongues swirled as he licked me, hungrier with each passing second. It was a kiss to make up for lost time. It was a kiss of desperation.
Weston lifted my shirt and exposed my breasts. Cupping them in his strong, calloused hands, he licked the hardened buds. I whimpered and bucked down on his erection. I needed him. I moved to pull my shirt off.
“Your windows aren’t tinted, babe…”
“Please,” I begged. We were in a dark, empty parking lot, but I didn’t care who saw us. I was desperate.
“I don't want anyone to see us. I don't want anyone to see what I plan on doing to you for the next few hours.” Lowering my shirt, he tapped my butt and ushered me off his lap. Weston kicked the front door open and ran around to help me out.
Love Letter Duet: The Encore Edition Page 15