by Lauren Rowe
Violet
Dax’s smile is beaming and glorious. “He said I need to remember I’ve never experienced fame while not on tour,” he says. “He said I’m probably subconsciously equating fame with the intense version of it I experienced on tour—getting physically mobbed everywhere I go. But he said now that I’m back in LA, I’ll be able to carve out a much more normal existence for myself, relatively speaking.”
We’re sitting across from each other in the large, Jacuzzi bathtub in our hotel bathroom, lit candles around us, while Dax tells me about today’s therapy session. Of course, I told him he didn’t need to tell me anything about it, if he didn’t want to share. But Dax said he wanted to tell me about it because he was blown away by how much he liked it.
“I’m so glad you went to him, Dax. Sounds like he knows what he’s talking about.”
“He does.”
Dax continues talking and talking, telling me everything the guy helped him with in just one session. Finally, in wrap-up, he says, “I liked the guy so much, I made another appointment with him for next week.”
“Fantastic.”
He rubs my leg under the warm water. “Toward the end, I told him about you.”
“Me?”
“Yeah. We’re gonna talk in detail about you next time.”
My stomach wrenches sharply. Will Dax and the therapist talk through the “pros and cons” of him entering into a relationship with me? And if they do, will Dax decide I’m worth the headache... or not? I swallow hard. “Sounds like a great idea.”
Dax smiles, apparently unaware of my clenching stomach. “What kinds of stuff did you talk about in therapy?”
“Everything. Jackson. My father and stepfather. My mother cheating on my stepfather. Caleb.” Dax’s features stiffen subtly at the mention of Caleb’s name. Shit. Why did I mention Caleb’s name? I squeeze Dax’s leg underneath the water. “So, what did you do after your therapy session while I was shopping for wedding dresses?”
“I thought I was going to shut myself away to write, but I wound up hanging out with Fish. He rented a condo right on the beach in Santa Monica, thinking he might want to buy it eventually, so I went to see it. We played video games. Talked about nothing in particular. It was just like old times, only with an ocean view.”
“Colin wasn’t there?”
“He went to see a girl—one of Aloha’s backup dancers. He met her before the tour at Reed’s party and she just got back from Australia last night.”
“Where is Colin living?”
“With one of his cousins for now. He told me to keep an eye out for him when I go house hunting with Ryan.”
“When are you doing that?”
“Friday.”
“I love house hunting,” I say lamely, and instantly regret it. Crap. If I’m trying to get Dax to invite me to join him, it’s a nonstarter and I know it. I might feel like Dax’s girlfriend after spending so much time with him these past three days in this hotel room, but I have to remember I’m still his dirty little secret. The girl he can’t be seen with out there.
“I’ve never done it before,” Dax says, seemingly oblivious to the subtext of my comment. “Ryan’s gonna show me what I can afford and help me decide what to do.”
“Cool.”
There’s an awkward beat.
“So, tell me about your shopping trip with Maddy,” Dax says, caressing my leg again. “Did you have fun?”
I tell him about my day, building up to the exciting news that, after not finding exactly what she wanted in the stores we visited, Maddy hired me to create her dream wedding dress. “It’s a dream come true,” I say excitedly. “When I was a kid, I sketched wedding dresses all the time and made them for my Barbies. Even today, whenever a celebrity is getting married, or there’s a royal wedding coming up, I love sketching what I think the bride should wear and then waiting to see if I was anywhere close. It’s my idea of the Super Bowl.”
Dax laughs. “You’re so freaking cute when you talk about this stuff.”
“I get excited.”
“You know, Maddy’s a bit of a celebrity. Keane’s the star of their videos, but everyone loves Maddy Behind the Camera. You’ll probably get some good publicity over this if she posts videos of the finished product after the wedding.”
I squeal with glee. “Do you think she’d do that?”
“I’m sure she would. Their engagement video got something like fifteen million views. The whole world is following their love story.”
I drag my hands over my face, overwhelmed with excitement. “I can’t believe this is my life. One of my dreams is to design wedding dresses for a living. Like, to have my own brand. If I could design two things—wedding dresses and costumes for pop divas like Aloha Carmichael—and nothing else, for the rest of my life, I’d be a very happy designer.”
“Have you ever sketched a future wedding dress for yourself?”
“Ha! No.” I snort. “I’m never getting married.”
Dax looks surprised. “Why not?”
“I don’t see the point.”
He’s quiet.
I feel my cheeks bloom. “You see the point?”
He shrugs. “I think finding that one person to share your life with, pledging forever to one special person, seems really cool.”
“But you can pledge ‘forever’ to someone without getting married. And then, voila, if ‘forever’ turns out to be a bit bigger commitment than either person can manage, you can both be on your merry way. No harm, no foul, and no lawyers.”
Dax pulls a face. “This from the girl who loves designing wedding dresses?”
“I’m just saying you can pledge forever to a girlfriend. No need to make her your wife.”
“Yeah, but the thing is I get off on the word wife.”
All at once, my heart skips a beat and arousal whooshes between my legs.
Dax flashes me a crooked smile. “My whole life, I’ve heard Colby and Ryan talking about their various girlfriends, but now that they’ve both got a one-and-only wife, it feels... different. Sacred. They’ve chosen to bring Lydia and Tessa into our family. They’ve chosen to pledge forever to them, in front of the world. I don’t know, I don’t want to miss out on getting to experience that brand of magic. I mean, only if I find the right girl, of course. But if I do, hell yeah, I’ll want to make that woman my wife.”
My heart is melting like an ice cream cone on a hot sidewalk. This boy. He’s not like anybody I’ve ever met before. He certainly doesn’t fit the stereotype of a “rockstar.”
“You’re absolutely positive you’ll never get married?” he asks. “Like, you’re dead-set against it, no matter what?”
My breathing is shallow. “Well, no... I wouldn’t put it that way. I’m not absolutely dead-set against it. I’ve just never pictured it for myself.”
Well, that’s new. It’s the first time I’ve equivocated on the topic in my life. Up until now, in every conversation I’ve ever had about the concept of marriage, I’ve firmly stated it’s simply not for me. No way. Never. But now, looking into Dax’s blue eyes, sitting here naked with him in this warm tub, when I’m feeling so open and light and happy and adored, I can’t deny the word ‘husband’ has a certain appeal. “I grew up with a single mother,” I say. “So that’s always seemed normal to me. I think I’ve always assumed I’d become a single mother one day, too, just like my mom.”
“But is that what you’d want, if you could pick?” Dax says. “I mean, why would anyone want that, if they had a choice?”
Anger flashes inside me, but I force myself to keep my tone measured. “Every day of my life, my mother’s told me having me was the best decision she ever made. My father was an asshole and a liar. He cheated on his wife and defrauded hundreds of people out of their life savings. He demanded my mother abort me, and when she wouldn’t do it, he paid her off and sent her packing. Was she supposed to pick him over me because being a single mother is so horrible? Is that what you’re implying?�
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“Whoa, Vi. I wasn’t making a moral judgment about unwed mothers. Dude. Come on. You really think that’s where I was coming from? I was simply making the observation that it seems like it’d be tough to have a kid alone. That, if given the choice, I’d think anyone would want to do it as part of a team. I’ve got a slew of nieces and nephews and I’ve seen firsthand how much work babies are.”
Dax looks earnest. Beautiful. Sweet as can be. And I suddenly realize I’ve just revealed myself to be an overly sensitive lunatic. At least, regarding this topic. “I’m sorry. I’ve watched my mother get treated like a second-class citizen my whole life for being an unwed mother. Sometimes, it’s not overt. People make comments or ask questions cloaked as concern. But the judgment is constantly there.”
“I know I come from Perfect Family USA, but I certainly don’t think my family is the only kind of family. Obviously, your mom was a badass for choosing to have you and raising you on her own. Especially, so young. She’s got my full respect.”
I take a deep breath. “Thank you. I’m sorry I got defensive.”
“I’m sorry if I said anything that came off like a preacher at a Baptist revival.”
I giggle. “You didn’t. Not at all. I’m just a lunatic.” I suddenly feel the need to make amends for jumping down his throat. I drift across the tub, slide my arms around his neck, and skim my hard nipples against his chest. “What about you?” I say softly. “Are you gonna have kids to go along with this magical wife of yours?”
“Just one. Sometimes, I imagine myself onstage, with my wife and kid out in the audience. My kid has those big earphones on—the ones that protect little kids’ eardrums from loud music? And my wife is smoking hot and the coolest person, ever, and she’s out there, holding our kid, looking hot. And I look out into the crowd, at my wife and kid out there, and my band is onstage with me—Fish and Colin, of course—and maybe their wives and kids are out in the audience, too, as long as this is a fairytale—and, fuck it, my whole family’s out there, too, enjoying the show—and in that moment, I know I’ve truly managed to have it all.”
His cock is hard against me. I slide myself onto it and take him into me and he groans his appreciation. But then he says, “Just to be clear, I don’t want this fairytale baby any time soon. This baby in headphones is years off.”
I smile as I fuck him slowly. “I take my pill religiously. I’m not looking to get knocked up and become a single mother any time soon. I promise.”
He looks relieved. He starts fucking me in earnest. As we move together in the water, we kiss and caress. We whisper. We suck each other’s lips and bite each other’s necks. And through it all, I feel myself doing the one thing I’ve promised myself I wouldn’t do, not unless Dax does it first: falling head over heels in love.
Chapter 36
Dax
Violet’s alarm goes off, ripping me out of an awesome dream. I peek at the clock on the nightstand and groan. 9:00.
“Why so early?” I choke out.
“Nine o’clock is early?” Violet says next to me.
“It’s the crack of dawn.”
Chuckling, she pats my bare chest. “Go back to sleep, rockstar. I’ll be quiet as a mouse.”
I grab her arm to stop her movement. “Where are you going?”
“To the children’s hospital. I’m interviewing kids for a new batch of superhero costumes.”
“Can I come?”
She looks as shocked as I feel. Why did I say that?
“How would that work?” she asks, looking like her heart is beating a mile a minute. “I mean, aren’t we still... secret fuck-spies?”
I swallow hard. Shit. I asked to come reflexively, not because I’ve consciously decided it’s time for our official coming-out party. But now that I’ve said it, I don’t want to take it back. “If we get spotted, we could say you told my family and me about The Superhero Project at the wedding and I was so impressed, I asked to join you the next time you went to the hospital.”
Violet looks vaguely disappointed. She shakes her head. “That’s too risky. If we’re together, just me and you, any photo captured will tell a story far more salacious than any spin we might try to put on it later.” She pauses like she’s waiting for me to disagree. When I don’t, she sighs and rolls toward the edge of the bed.
“We could call Keane and Maddy and ask them to come with us.”
She pauses at the edge of the bed. I’ve got her full attention now.
“If we get photographed, we’d say your new bestie, Maddy Behind the Camera, is making a video about The Superhero Project.”
“Actually, Maddy said she was interested in doing exactly that. She said it at the wedding.”
“Perfect. So, we’ll say Maddy and Keane came along with you to do the video, and Keane invited me, his little brother, just for kicks. Sounds believable to me.”
Violet lights up. She crawls back to me on the bed. “I think that could work. Keane and Maddy will be our beard.”
I grab my phone. “I’ll text them now. What time should they meet us at the hospital?”
“Ten thirty. But, don’t forget, you and I will have to drive separately.”
I scowl, annoyed at the idea. “New plan,” I say. “We’ll have Keane and Maddy come here and we’ll all go to the hospital together. I don’t want to drive separately. I’m hopelessly addicted to you, baby. I need you in reach at all times.”
“Glad to hear it, because I’m hopelessly addicted to you, too.” She surprises me by straddling me on the bed. She’s naked. So am I. And I know exactly where this is headed. “What the hell are you doing to me, David Jackson?” she purrs as I grab her breasts. “We said we were gonna be super-secret fuck-spies, remember? And you’re already looking for loopholes?”
I slide my palms down her torso and grip her bare ass as she rubs herself against my hard-on. “I just can’t stand being away from you, that’s all.”
She shudders as my fingers stroke her bare ass. “I don’t think super-secret fuck-spies look for loopholes so they can visit kids in cancer wards together.”
“Sure, they do. Anything for the mission.”
She giggles. “I’m not complaining. I’m excited you’re coming. But just so you know, after the hospital, I’ve got to go to a quick work meeting in Burbank. We’re still in pre-production for the movie, so I’m only doing meetings once a week at this point. Maybe you can do something with Keane and Maddy while I’m at the meeting?”
I rub her thighs, aching to get inside her. “Will that bastard asshole be at the meeting?”
“What bastard asshole?”
“The one you dated until mere days ago, when you came to your senses.”
She rolls her eyes. “He’s not a bastard asshole. He’s a really nice guy. A bit of a player, but up front about it. And no, he won’t be there. But if he was going to be there, it wouldn’t matter because I’m smitten with a certain secret fuck-spy.”
“Do you think he’s going to try to seduce you? To win you back?”
She laughs like that’s the stupidest thing she’s ever heard. “No. He took it very well when I told him I wanted to keep things professional. I actually think he was relieved. I don’t think he was all that into me, any more than I was into him. But if he did try to seduce me, do you know what I’d say? I’d tell him I’ve only got eyes for one man—my hot super-secret fuck-spy baby.”
My stomach somersaults unexpectedly. I know she’s being silly, but for a split-second, I wanted nothing more than to hear Violet call me her hot boyfriend in that sentence.
She smiles at my salty expression. “Aw, you’re jealous?”
“Hell yeah, I’m jealous. I don’t believe for a minute he’s not into you.”
“He’s not. And if he was, so what? It’s not like he was the great love of my life. He was a distraction.”
“For how long?”
“For how long what?”
“Did you let him distract you?”
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sp; “It’s hard to say because it was off and on.”
“Estimate.”
“You are jealous.”
“Very.”
She gyrates on top of me, rubbing herself against my hard dick, and I fondle her tits.
“Well, let’s see,” she says. “At first, when I was in college and it was a casual long-distance thing, I hardly saw him at all. Just a handful of dinner dates in New York. Then, when I moved to LA two months ago, we started seeing each other pretty regularly. But we never got serious or exclusive.”
“Where’d you meet him?”
“Why the hell are you asking me so many questions about him?”
“Because I’m being a jealous asshole.”
“You really are.”
“Just tell me where you met him and I’ll shut up.”
She rolls her eyes. “At Reed’s party for Aloha. Minutes before I met you.”
“He’s that GQ motherfucker in the suit?”
She giggles. “That’s him. We talked briefly that night. He said he produced indie movies. I said I was studying fashion design and had recently become interested in costume design. And then he shocked me by texting me a few days later and inviting me to dinner in New York.”
“Jesus fucking Christ. Asshole.”
She giggles. “Might I remind you, I kept staring at you the whole time he was hitting on me, trying to get you to come over to say hello. Now come on. Stop being a jealous asshole and fuck me. You weren’t a monk on tour, so shut the fuck up, you hypocrite. I had to do something so I wouldn’t sit around, obsessing over the guy I saw everywhere in that damned music video.”
That brings a huge smile to my face. “You were obsessing over me?”
“Relentlessly. Every time I thought about you, every time I dreamed about you or touched myself and fantasized about you—or wished someone else was you—I watched that music video.” She smiles wickedly. “Which means at least half of the billion views on that thing are mine.”
I grip her hips and guide her onto my cock. “If you had a music video, I’d have run up ten billion views during the tour. I swear to God.”
She bites her lip as she fucks me. “I believe you. So, let’s agree the past is the past. No more jealousy. Onward.”