Sophie's Encore (The Rock Star Romance Series)

by Nicky Wells

Lilly listened to his little speech attentively. I said nothing but simply pulled my shoulders up to my ears in a ‘well, I’m here and I’m cool with it’ kind of gesture.

  “Hrr-humm,” Lilly cleared her throat from the other side of the counter. “As it happens, I’d like to offer you all an upgrade anyway,” she announced calmly. “You’re a valued customer, Mr. Hunter, as well a frequent flyer, and so would you like four seats in First?”

  Our first check-in agent looked somewhat scandalized, and I couldn’t say I blamed her, but Dan took it in his stride. His voice was honey-sweet, yet sincere, and carried that mesmerizing Dan Hunter timbre. “We would love to accept an upgrade, of course, but I wouldn’t like you to think…”

  Lilly looked from him to me and the kids and back again. She smiled. I was really getting to love her smile.

  “I think I see what’s happened here,” she said simply. “Let’s get that upgrade sorted.”

  Three hours later, I was blessing Lilly from the bottom of my heart and resolved to send her some kind of thank you token when we got back. The journey was proving long and exhausting with another seven hours to go, but at least we had the comfort of space.

  We had stocked up on magazines, sticker books, and travel games before boarding and were working our way steadily through them. Dan sat with Josh and I with Emily, although we had swapped around twice already. The kids were delighted at the cute seats and the in-flight entertainment system, but I was holding off on letting them loose on the video games and television until a little later. The children’s whoops of joy at the first snacks had raised a couple of bemused eyebrows from the other first class travelers, but they relaxed slightly when I quieted the kids down immediately.

  “Sorry,” I mouthed to the man across the aisle. “They’ll be fine in a minute or so. We’ll try not to bother you.” The man gave me a half-hearted smile and plugged his headphones in to watch one of the in-flight movies.

  At four hours in, Emily curled up on her seat and fell asleep. I had a look at my watch, which I had already put back by eight hours to reflect Seattle time, and worked out that it was nearly seven p.m. in the UK. A little early for Emily’s bedtime, but given the excitement of the day, probably not far off what she would normally do at home. I covered her in a blanket and took a deep breath. One down, one to go.

  “Sophie?” Dan’s voice emerged in a whisper from the seat behind me. I twisted around then raised myself onto my knees on the seat so I could look over the back at Dan.

  “Right here,” I whispered back and suppressed a giggle. Josh, too, had fallen asleep in his seat, his legs on Dan’s lap and his upper body sprawled against the backrest.

  “Aw, bless him. Just lift him across. He won’t wake.” I smiled at Dan. “Actually, maybe I could move Emily next to him and then you and I can…talk.”

  Dan grinned. “Good idea but…” He motioned at his lap. I looked a little closer.

  “Are you wet?”

  My rock star nodded. I looked at Josh and then again at Dan, and clapped my hand on my mouth. “Oh God, I’m so sorry,” I mumbled through my fingers. “He probably forgot himself, what with all the excitement and all the juice.”

  I scrabbled to my feet to assist my stricken men. “Here, I brought some pajamas for the kids anyway, let me go and sort Josh out while you…um…sort yourself out.” I fought the urge to giggle at the absurdity of the situation, but Dan did it for me.

  “That’s a definite first,” he chortled. “This could be seriously misinterpreted!”

  “I’m glad you see the funny side,” I snorted.

  Dan shrugged. “What else can I do?”

  I lifted a still sleeping Josh and carried him to the bathroom while Dan made his way to the other bathroom, a napkin discreetly placed over the wet patch. Josh barely woke up while I removed his trousers and shirt, washed him down with a soapy washcloth, then changed him into pajamas. I took him back to his seat which a thoughtful flight attendant had meanwhile transformed into a bed. After I snuggled Josh down, she and I had a quick conversation, and she turned the seat next to Josh into a bed, too, while I took a sleeping Emily off to the bathroom to change her into her PJs. By the time I had settled Emily in her bed and returned to my seat, Dan was back—cleaned-up and nearly dry—and dinner was served.

  “Welcome to my world, again!” I observed wryly as I sat down next to him. “Thanks for keeping your cool.”

  “Welcome to my world,” Dan retorted, raising a glass of bubbly. “Thanks for coming.”

  I shook my head, still trying to catch up with my reality. “This is…mad. Good mad, but mad.”

  “Hm.” Dan was thoughtful. “It brings back memories.”

  “It certainly does,” I chuckled and clinked my glass to his. “Seventeen years it’s been since we first met. My God, what a lot has happened.”

  “It certainly has.” Dan was also in a reflective mood. “Some good stuff, and some not so good stuff.”

  I tried to keep the mood light and grabbed at the first thing that came to mind, inspired by my current beverage. “We’ve certainly had some entertaining moments. Do you recall that time when you broke all those champagne glasses?”

  “‘I daresay that’s several hundred pounds of damage you’ve just inflicted, young man’,” Dan intoned, mimicking perfectly the voice of a slightly batty old Great Aunt we met at a wedding we both attended a few years previously, before Steve came into my life.

  “‘I don’t know, the help sitting down with the guests’,” I continued the joke. “‘What are we coming to?”

  “I don’t rightly know,” Dan responded, suddenly serious.

  I sipped at my champagne nervously. The parallels of days gone by were so clear, so obvious—never mind the children and everything else that had changed us both—that there was a sense of expectation in the air, and I was certain I wasn’t imagining it. Dan took my hands and looked at them thoughtfully. I still wore Steve’s wedding band, although I had moved it to my right hand a short while after his death. I had wanted to keep him with me, always, but I had also needed to remind myself that I was no longer a married woman, as such. It had been a really weird moment, but it had felt right, and I hadn’t given the ring much thought afterwards, until now.

  Dan touched it and turned it gently between his thumb and index finger.

  “Rings,” he mused after an eternity. “They’re quite heavy on symbolism, aren’t they?”

  I nodded, needing a moment before I could speak. “I…it would feel wrong to take this one off. But it doesn’t mean…”

  Dan grasped my hands more intensely, but I ran out of courage. “I still have yours,” I stated instead, as a diversionary measure. “Well, my half of it, anyway.”

  “And I still treasure my half.” Dan’s voice was solemn and slightly hoarse. And that about summed up the complexity of our relationship. We looked at each other for a long while, unsure how to proceed, where to go next. As the seconds stretched by, the poignancy slowly faded, the small opening grew smaller and eventually closed, and the moment slipped away. And yet, something had passed between us, a certainty, an understanding, perhaps, and I felt oddly at ease. Dan let go of my hand, and I flexed my fingers as though waking up from a trance. We smiled.

  “So. Tell me about the tour. How’s this going to work?” I was first to break the silence, and Dan released a breath I didn’t know he had been holding.

  “Right. The tour. Well…”

  And so he filled me in on the schedule. There were five more shows planned: Seattle, San Francisco, LA, Chicago, and New York. The band would be rehearsing most afternoons, followed by a quick radio or TV appearance in most places, then a sound check prior to dinner at the concert venue before the various shows. Afterwards, there were a variety of events ranging from interviews to after-parties. Non-show days were spent traveling, punctuated by early-morning and lunchtime promotional gigs—more radio and TV appearances, meetings with local record bosses, and other obligations.
<
br />   There was a two-day gap between the show in LA and the next gig in Chicago, and Jack had booked the band into a studio in LA to lay down demos for new songs with some of the local big names. The schedule was grueling, to say the least, and I was breathless just hearing it.

  “But that’s us,” Dan laughed when he saw my face. “You guys are along for the fun part of the ride. I’d think you get up when you’re ready, and then go and do some sightseeing in each of the cities until the early afternoon. If you want to join us for rehearsal or sound check, then please do. I’d definitely like to see you all for dinner, and I’d love for you to be at the shows, kids’n all. We’ll work something out. After-parties and all that malarkey…Again, we’ll work that out. Depending on where the action is, Joe and Mick sometimes used a hotel babysitter or simply put the kids to sleep in a quiet room at whatever place we would hang out. It’s all different and you’ll have to learn to trust me and to go with the flow a bit, but it’s perfectly okay.”

  I laughed. “All the stuff I used to worry about, way back when. And it’s all going to be okay.”

  Dan laughed, too. “Absolutely. And I can’t tell you how happy I am you guys are here with me.”

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  It was nearly seven p.m. local time by the time we arrived at our hotel in downtown Seattle. Immigration at SeaTac had taken a little while, and the kids had been very cranky, having been woken from their slumber at landing, but there were no mishaps, and we all enjoyed the twenty minute cab ride from the airport to the hotel, taking in the unfamiliar boulevards and relishing the occasional glimpse of open water.

  “The hotel is only a few blocks away from the waterfront. If you wanted to do something exciting tomorrow, there are ferries going across the sound. They’re mostly commuter ferries, really, but you could always check them out, I know how much you guys like your boat trips,” Dan told us, and the kids squealed excitedly.

  “Let’s do it now, let’s do it now,” Josh chanted, suddenly wide awake even though it was technically the middle of the night for him.

  “We’ll do it tomorrow,” I replied. “Let’s get to the hotel first and settle in and grab something to eat.”

  Dan had booked a family suite for us with two bedrooms and a little sitting room, as well as the obligatory fabulous bathroom. The kids were beside themselves with glee, and I wasn’t far behind. It was a stunning room, bright and airy and very luxurious. Dan joined me at the window and put an arm around my shoulder, pulling me snugly into him.

  “It’s a bit odd, this, isn’t it?” I mused, voicing my thoughts.

  “Is it?” Dan threw me a probing look. “Why?”

  “Well…no more separate suites, no more connecting doors, no more pretense. We’re just…here. Together.”

  Dan planted a little kiss on my cheek. “Is that a problem?”

  “Of course not,” I protested. “It’s just…after all this time…it’s a little weird, that’s all.”

  “I don’t think it’s weird.” Dan’s voice was deep and calm. “I think it’s long overdue. You are the closest thing I have to a real family. I missed you all. I wanted you here. Right here, not next door. This is what it should be like.”

  Oh my God. I experienced a weird tingling sensation all over at hearing these words. Yet I was hearing them without really taking them in, because my heart rate picked up so dramatically that the muffled pounding in my ears drowned out all sound and thought. I felt a little dizzy, too. Was he really saying what I thought he was saying?

  I disengaged from his arm so I could look at him properly. He was smiling, his eyes full of love, his face content.

  “Um…” Faced with a highly poignant moment, I was my usual eloquent self. But Dan rescued me.

  “It’s ridiculous, really, that it’s taken us so long.” He grinned and wrapped his arms around me once more. He held me tight, and my face was pressed hard against his lovely chest. Mmmhh-mmmhh.

  “Taken us so long to do what?” I mumbled into his shirt.

  “This.” He let go of me with one arm and made a sweeping gesture. “Being honest with ourselves about staying together. Gosh, if only we’d done this first time ‘round…” He didn’t finish his sentence, but put his arm back around me instead.

  As before, I had this sense of certainty. We were headed some place, and I knew where. The unspoken thing was there between us, growing, stretching, emerging into something beautiful, and we were both watching it develop, waiting to see when it would burst through the surface. But this wasn’t the right time, it appeared. For one, we were jetlagged, dirty, and hungry. And for another, there were two kids involved who rarely, if ever, would give two adults more than five minutes’ uninterrupted talking time.

  “Mummy, mummy, I want to go in the bath, it’s got nobbles in, and it sprays, and it makes waves!” Josh bounded up to us and pulled at both our sleeves while we were still mid-embrace.

  I looked at Dan, confused, and he laughed.

  “That would be the spa tub,” he explained. “It’s all singing and dancing. It makes bubbles and everything. Or so I’m told. Let’s go check it out.”

  So we ran the children a bath, complete with mad amounts of bubbles, and let them splash to their hearts’ content. Meanwhile, Dan and I took turns in the shower to freshen up, too. Once clean and dry, we dressed in our pajamas. Dan ordered a room service dinner—steaks and chips for the adults, and burgers from the special children’s menu—and we feasted in front of the telly, feeling weary and exhilarated all at the same time. At nine-thirty, the kids started drooping again, and I put them to bed in their room while Dan made a few rapid calls to Jack and the band to confirm the schedule for the following day.

  Afterwards, unreasonably early by local standards perhaps, we crawled into our king-size bed, luxuriating in the fresh sheets and the thoughts of a long night’s sleep ahead to stave off the worst effects of jetlag. I nuzzled contentedly into Dan’s bare chest and dropped off to sleep before a single naughty thought could cross my mind.

  Dan was gone by the time I came around the following morning. There was a note on the pillow signed with fifteen kisses, explaining the band was due at a radio station by seven a.m. He left me his detailed itinerary for the day along with a set of mobile telephone numbers to contact him or Jack, but there was one item he had circled in red: Final rehearsal, The Arena, 4 p.m.~See you there?

  I smiled to myself. Four o’clock wasn’t a long time away, and I was certain the kids and I would find something to do for the few short hours. Once we were dressed and ready to go, of course.

  The kids woke up shortly after, looking refreshed and happy and not at all jetlagged—yet. They raced into my bedroom and made to jump into bed to hug me, but got diverted at the last minute.

  “Look, look, look!” Josh’s excited voice emerged from somewhere under the bed. Emily immediately joined him, and they both emerged brandishing a chocolate Easter egg.

  “It’s an Easter egg,” I stated, somewhat superfluously and not a little dumbfounded.

  “Let’s see if there are any more,” Josh suggested to his sister, and they commenced a frantic search of the room. Meanwhile, my addled brain had latched onto a vital detail. It was Sunday, of course. Easter Sunday! And Dan had obviously come here prepared. I broke out into a giant smile I simply couldn’t wipe off my face.

  “What’s so funny, Mummy?” Josh wanted to know when he noticed my wide grin.

  I giggled. “Nothing, sweetheart. I’m just glad the Easter bunny found you here, all the way in the States.”

  “It’s amazing,” Josh agreed and resumed his hunt. All in all, there were twenty-four eggs and four chocolate Easter bunnies to be found in the suite, and the kids assembled their loot in one of the hotel’s fruit bowls, having unceremoniously moved the fruit onto the coffee table. Easter-bunny Dan had truly outdone himself. I was so stunned, I couldn’t even feel guilty about forgetting the whole thing myself, and I allowed each child one chocolate egg before w
e went down for breakfast.

  In actual fact, I was a little nervous about braving the breakfast room on my own with two young children. This was a first for us, but they excelled themselves. They sat nicely and calmly, remembered their please’s and thank-you’s, and ate like champions. The hotel staff responded in kind to their good manners and treated us like royalty, and I felt inordinately proud.

  When we were ready, we went sightseeing. It was an overcast day but at least it wasn’t raining, and we made our way to the waterfront, taking in the gentle lapping of the waves against the piers and the dramatic juxtaposition of cityscape with mountain views. Well, I did. The kids were more fascinated by unfamiliar cars and all the marine vessels moored by the pier. One of them, Josh deciphered, offered trips around Elliott Bay and, predictably, once the kids had discovered this fact, we had to buy tickets and get on.

  An hour later, we returned to shore, excited, cold, and hungry, so we found a little eatery for lunch. During our meal, we debated whether to go the nearby aquarium next or whether to check out the Space Needle. Emily wanted to see the fish, but Josh convinced her that space was much more exciting. On balance, I tended to agree with him, not bothering for the moment to correct his expectation, and we flagged down a cab to have ourselves taken to this amazing monument.

  Obviously the kids were overwhelmed with the sight of this spectacular structure, rising high above us into the sky “and with a spaceship at the top,” or so Josh said. When I told them we could go up all the way to the observation deck, they could hardly believe it and tugged eagerly at my hands to get inside.

  It was a momentous afternoon, and time flew so quickly that I nearly missed our four o’clock appointment at The Arena. I piled the kids into another cab, even though we could probably have walked to the concert venue, and we screeched to a halt in front of the gates at just a few minutes to four.

  Taking a deep breath, I smoothed back my hair, took each child by a hand and walked confidently up to the security office. It occurred to me too late that I had nothing to prove I was entitled to go in, no pass, no identification, not even Dan’s little note. It was just me, a slightly wild-eyed mother, and her two kids.