I left a great job behind. One I don’t want to lose. My boss was nice enough to give me a few months off because she knows my mother is sick, and even though I was truthful about trekking all over the country with Ternura, that doesn’t mean it’s okay for my extracurriculars to make headline news. What will happen now? Will Wendy regret helping me out? Will I get fired? How shitty will that look on my resume? Reason for leaving: termination due to galivanting around the states with a hot Latino dream. So much for finding a top ten hospital after that.
And Maman. She has no clue that Anthony and I are together. I was waiting to tell her when I saw her in person. At least, that’s what I keep telling myself. Maybe I can’t deal with her “I told you so” and the disappointment I’m sure to see written across her face. Or maybe I don’t want to have her make me feel guilty, especially since her health is so fragile. But now, with this, I no longer have a choice about how and when I’ll be telling her. I wouldn’t be surprised if one of her friends has already called her with the news.
As Anthony waits for my answer, his lips so close, his breath tickling my skin, I can’t deny that never kissing him again would damn near kill me. But kissing him isn’t going to undo my current tangled web.
“I need a minute to think,” I say. His expression falls and he quickly sits back. My lungs tighten at the rejection he’s having a hard time hiding. I reach out to him and grab his hand. “This is all so new to me, Anthony. I just need some time to process it.”
“Okay.” The trepidation in his voice breaks my heart. His beautiful, confident expression falters beneath the magnitude of my answer. I can see his apprehension about losing me as clearly as if he’d written it across all the walls in this room. “I’ll be outside if you need me.”
I want to reach out to him, to tell him not to go. I want to pull him down onto the couch and make love to him, forgetting that having feelings for him could mean losing all I’ve worked so hard for. I don’t want to choose between my dreams and the man I’m sure I’m falling in love with. But instead, I let him leave, needing to get my thoughts in order—something I can’t do with him sitting in front of me.
I grab my phone and call my sister back.
“So, you finished freaking out?” she asks immediately.
“Not entirely,” I admit. “Did Maman see it?”
“No. How would she? She’s not into that crap.”
“But her friends are.”
“She’s not really in a socializing mood right now.” Niloo shuffles on her end of the line and it sounds like paper crinkling in my ear. I have to pull the phone away until she settles down. “Is that what has your panties in a bunch? Maman finding out?”
“Yes,” I whine.
“Darya, get over it. You’re a grown-ass woman. You can be with whomever you want.”
“That’s easy for you to say.”
“What does that mean?”
“You’ve never had to please Maman, because I’m the one who always does it so you can do and be who you want to be.” The resentment topples out of me before I have a chance to stop it. I’m confused with my emotions and frustrated with familial expectations, but I don’t mean to take it out on my sister.
“That’s not fair,” she says. Her irritation is thick on her words. “I’ve never asked you to do any of that for me. No one is making you be perfect, Darya, except for yourself.”
“Perfect.” I snort. “Isn’t that a joke.”
“No, it’s not.” Her tone softens. “You’re the closest to perfect a daughter can be.”
“If I’m so perfect, why didn’t I catch Maman’s cancer earlier?” A knot lodges in my throat, the conversation taking an unexpected turn. I can’t seem to contain the thoughts that have been plaguing me since my mother’s diagnosis. I yearn to unload my burden, to have someone tell me it’s okay, that I did my best. Someone I can believe. And Niloo does just that.
“Stop it, Darya. Maman’s cancer is not your fault. Do you hear me? It’s not something you could have seen. She doesn’t wear it like a sore or a broken bone. It’s hidden and invisible until it’s not. And you caught it right when it wasn’t.” I try to suppress a sob, but Niloo hears it, her voice becoming strong with conviction. “You are everything Maman wants you to be. Trust me, she tells me all the time,” she jokes.
Despite all the heavy things I’m dealing with, I can’t help but laugh, envisioning Niloo rolling her big, bright eyes as she implies I’m the golden child.
“But I’m telling you, big sister, you’ve done enough. You’ve given her the good, respectful, Iranian daughter. You became the doctor she wanted you to be. And now you’re out there making sure we have what we need to make it through this ordeal. Sure, you get to stare at rock-hard abs and tight, fine asses all day, so no one is feeling sorry for how hard you’re working, but still, you’re doing it.”
I smile. “Shut up.”
“But seriously, Darya. It’s okay to do something for yourself. You deserve it,” she insists. “Especially if you’re doing Anthony Castillo. I mean, even Maman can see the beauty in that.”
Niloo turns on her charm like she always does, making the despair disappear. We both giggle like little girls at the prospect of my newfound love life. “Now go be happy and enjoy that rock star of yours. Stop worrying about Maman.”
I don’t know if it’s as easy as Niloo is making it out to be. For me, being a good daughter, whatever that really means, has been ingrained in my brain since I was born. All the expectations and hopes Maman had riding on me, as if she were vicariously living through me, are hard to shake this far in the game. I know it’s ridiculous to still care what my mother thinks at my age, but I can’t help it.
“I love you, sister,” I say.
“Love you back.”
I hang up with Niloo and take a few breaths to steady my nerves. I try to push thoughts of Maman, The Star Lighter, and work aside, anchoring myself in the moment. There’s nothing I can do now about the magazine. I don’t know if my mom will see it or if it will pose an issue with the hospital, but worrying about it would only be wasted effort.
I run my hands through my hair and fluff the curls before heading out into the common area of the tour bus. I’m met with sounds of Latin music blasting through the surround-sound speakers. In the living area, Carlos dances in a circle while Hugo and Emmanuel clap to the music. Anthony is sitting in one of the recliners, a small grin on his face, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. He still holds the worry in his expression that he had when he left me in the back room. But he’s a good sport, trying to hide if from the others.
“Dar-y-a,” they chant in unison when they see me.
Mateo jumps to his feet and grabs my hand, twirling me around as he leads me to the music. He spins me, dips me, counts out the steps softly in my ear so I don’t look like a total idiot, right before Carlos steals me from his grasp. The dancing continues as Carlos does much of the same, then passes me over to Hugo. The boys weave me around the space until I’m dizzy with laughter. The song ends and Hugo dips me to the floor.
“Thanks for the dance, señorita.”
The music slows and as he uprights me, I’m twirled into Anthony’s arms. His hand finds the small of my back as he pulls me in close to him. The scent of his skin is intoxicating, and a wave of desire courses through me. I wrap an arm around his neck as he holds my other hand over his heart. I gaze up into his brooding onyx eyes and see the fear resting there.
I know there are a hundred reasons why I shouldn’t be with Anthony, but none seem to come to mind as I get lost in the feel of his body against mine. Despite our unexpected pairing, we fit, in a way I didn’t think I’d ever experience. And now that I have him, I’m not sure I can let him go.
“I want to be with you,” I whisper.
“Are you sure? It comes with a lot of bullshit.”
“You’re
worth it.”
I reach up on my tiptoes and kiss him softly, despite the audience. I don’t care that the boys are hollering or that Mike will surely fill my sister in even faster than the paparazzi are at spreading their pictures. All I know is that if I don’t feel my lips touch Anthony’s at this very moment, my heart may burst.
“Aw, look how cute Mom and Dad are,” Carlos snickers.
“They’re adorable,” Mike agrees.
“I hate it when they fight,” Mateo adds.
The song ends and the music changes back to the fast-paced beats of a few minutes ago, but Anthony doesn’t stop swaying. He’s staring deeply at me, words unsaid but felt nonetheless, swirling around us. In this moment, he doesn’t have to tell me he’s falling in love with me, too. I know it down in my soul.
“Get a room,” Hugo teases.
“That’s a great idea,” Anthony whispers.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Anthony
I wake up to the heat of Darya’s body pressed against mine. It’s nice compared to how cold my hotel suite is. We got into Pittsburgh so late, I forgot to turn the heat up. I was too busy ripping off Darya’s clothes to think about the morning.
I take in the details of her face. She’s so peaceful when she sleeps. The rise and fall of her chest causes her breath to flutter across my shoulder. I can’t believe she’s real and not some dream my mind made up on a particularly difficult night after a show. Can’t believe that I found her at all, let alone managed to convince her to give someone like me a chance.
Her hand rests on my chest, her long, thin fingers pale against the dark lines and shades of my tattoos. The contrast is weirdly comforting. Even though we’re completely different, somehow we still fit. I place my palm over hers, lying in the quiet, listening to her breathe.
She mumbles in her sleep and rolls away from me, hugging her body against a pillow. Despite the disappointment of not having her near me, I use the opportunity to check the time. It’s six in the morning and I can see the glow of dawn climbing through the opening in the curtains. We’ll have to be up soon, and we could both use some coffee.
I carefully ease out of bed, trying not to wake her by moving the mattress too much. She rustles but settles back down. She looks so beautiful snuggled up in my bed that it almost hurts.
I throw my clothes on and head out into the hall, closing the door quietly behind me. I’m too busy daydreaming that I don’t realize I’m not alone until I hear their voices. I stop dead in my tracks, taking a step closer to the wall. I’m not sure why I’m hiding, but something about my brother’s voice makes me think I shouldn’t be here.
“Don’t be mad, amor,” Carlos says.
“What do you mean, don’t be mad?” Mike’s voice makes my blood go cold. “I can’t do this anymore.”
“Don’t say that. I love you.” Carlos’s voice is a whispered plea.
Love? What’s he talking about?
“No, you don’t. If you did, you wouldn’t keep us a secret.” I can tell Mike’s angry but he also sounds hopeless.
“I told you I can’t announce our relationship to everyone.”
“Yeah, I know,” Mike huffs. “You have an image.”
I lean forward so I can get a better look as the pieces begin to fall into place. Carlos and Mike? How did I not see this? Carlos is holding tightly to Mike’s hands, the desperation all over his pained expression.
“It’s part of the package. You know that. You live in the same world as I do.”
“No I don’t. I don’t live in a world built on lies.” Mike spits out the words, laced with bitterness and heartbreak. “As a matter of fact, I’ve lost a lot by sticking to my truth. You know that.”
“I know.” Carlos drops his gaze to the floor, still holding on to Mike.
“Do you?” Mike shakes his head and rubs the back of his hand across his eyes. “My father hasn’t talked to me in three years. My mom has to call me in secret to avoid pissing him off. I’ve been banned from all family gatherings. I’ve lost everything. But even so, I’d rather live openly about who I am than hide in the image of who they want me to be.”
“I can’t do that to the band.”
My face screws up when I hear this. Carlos’s excuse doesn’t hold up. The band would never force him to stay in the closet. Doesn’t he realize we’re past the days of catering to the fans or the record label?
“Do what to the band? Tell them that you’re in love? That you’re gay? Which part would be devastating to your family and closest friends?” He pulls his hand away. “Do you really think they won’t understand? That Anthony wouldn’t be okay with this?”
I suck in my breath when I hear my name, waiting to see what my brother says. He doesn’t answer right away, and my heart speeds up.
“I don’t know.”
His words stab me in the chest, making it hard to breathe. How is he unsure of me? Nothing would change the way I feel about him. I try to think of what I could have done to make Carlos question my loyalty and love for him, but I come up short. Guilt almost knocks me over, and I think I might be sick.
Mike looks at Carlos then walks away without saying anything else.
“Mike, please,” Carlos reaches out to him, his fingertips brushing Mike’s arm. Mike’s too far out of his reach to grab, but he stops. I can see the rise and fall of his chest. He doesn’t turn to face Carlos.
“I can’t live like this anymore,” Mike says so quietly I strain to hear him. “I can hide it from the public, let you play out this suave bad-boy facade you sell to the ladies. I’m even okay watching you flirt with the groupies and eat up their attention. But not telling Anthony? Or Mateo and Hugo? You know just as much as I do that keeping it from them has everything to do with your own insecurities.”
I watch as Mike walks away from my brother while Carlos stares in agony. He takes a few steps in Mike’s direction, then seems to decide otherwise. He heads back to his room with his head hanging down.
I lean against the wall, unsure of what I should do. Do I go to him and tell him what I’ve heard? Ease his worries about how I’ll react to the news? Or do I go back to my room and pretend I know nothing. If he wanted to tell me, he would have, right? I’m afraid witnessing their breakup is going to piss Carlos off. He may not forgive me for eavesdropping, even if I didn’t mean to. Especially if he isn’t ready to share his relationship with me.
Why doesn’t he think he can share his secret with me?
Chapter Thirty-Three
Anthony
The smell of the coffee I’ve brought wiggles Darya free from her sleep. She stretches, smiling before she’s even opened her eyes as I let my fingers gently graze her skin. Goose bumps follow the path I make, and she rolls over with a sexy grin.
The sheets barely cover her breasts, and I can see her dark nipples peeking through. I can’t help myself, reaching out and running my fingertips across them. She drops her head back and moans lightly at my touch. Fuck, that’s hot. I lean over, taking one into my mouth, sucking hard. Her fingernails press into my back as she urges me forward.
Her hands suddenly grab the edge of my shirt and she pulls it off me, throwing it onto the floor. Then she fumbles with my sweats, using her feet to push them down around my ankles, and I do the rest, kicking them off until I’m completely naked on top of her. Her legs part, giving me space between them. She burns like wildfire beneath my touch, and I harden instantly. I fucking love the way she’s looking at me.
Her mouth finds mine and she kisses me until I can’t breathe. Her fingers roam my body, her tongue licks my skin, and her teeth nibble on my earlobes. The way she’s touching me, full of need and desire, makes me feel like nobody else exists for her. Only me.
She’s totally in control, pushing me onto my back and straddling me. Her confidence is hot as hell, and my dick throbs. It’s hard and full, wait
ing for her to do with it what she pleases. But she doesn’t give me what I want right away. Instead, she slides a condom on and teases me, allowing only the blunt head of my cock inside her.
The hot, wet, pulsing of her heat wraps around me, then disappears, as she slowly rises and falls. Over and over again she tortures me, until I’m begging for all of her. When I don’t think I can take anymore, she slides me inside, her pussy tightening around me.
I sit up and wrap my hands around her waist, guiding her body as she rocks languidly against me. Her breath becomes ragged. And still I sink in deeper, pulling her in closer as we move together on the bed. Her head falls back, her eyes shut, and she groans in ecstasy. It takes two more strokes before I join her, but instead of exploding through me, this time the pleasure swells and rolls over me. When it’s over, her body goes limp. She wraps her arms around my neck and nuzzles up to my ear.
“I’m never going to get bored of this,” she says.
“Well, that’s good to know.”
She giggles, then rolls onto her back beside me. I get up and head to the bathroom, getting rid of the condom before crawling back in bed next to her. She rests her head on my chest and we lie together in silence. I run my hand across her hair and rub a curl between my fingers, my mind drifting back to the hallway.
“Are you okay?”
“I think Carlos is gay. And that he’s in love with Mike.” I blurt it out, needing to get this off my chest. She goes quiet and still, and I get the feeling this isn’t news to her. “Did you already know?”
“Yes, Mike told me. But he made me promise to keep it a secret,” she explains. She sounds worried that I’ll be mad, but I’m not. I understand the value of trust, and I’d think worse of her if she had told me.
“Why didn’t Carlos tell me?”
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