Maybe

  Shawn gives a seductive smile to Shae when Fabian starts to play, followed immediately by Jon.

  Those notes.

  I know those notes, and I close my eyes as I feel heat rush through my abdomen and settle in between my thighs, then down to my knees.

  I am literally shaking when Tyler hits the first drum. My favorite drum beat on the planet. A driving, stimulating, throat-choking drumbeat that makes me shiver and quake where I stand.

  Shawn leans into the microphone, his vocals sexually charged while he looks Shae in the eyes and starts to sing that he’s “gonna be somebody.”

  The crowd is having a fit watching the two manipulate each other. The lights pulse and bounce while they cross the stage over and over in time to the beats. Shae steps forward, straddling Shawn’s leg while he continues to sing, and she shifts her hips into him and smiles. He grips the mic stand with one hand and her waist with the other while she all but humps his leg. They hold a seductive stare, and she meets his mouth at the mic and sings with him. I don’t want to pay any more attention to them, though.

  Tyler goes back to that driving beat, and I turn only a fraction of an inch to watch him work the skins. I’d forgotten how damn sexy he is behind the drums, and I bite my fingernails while I watch his hands move lightning-quick, setting the speed of the song, the rhythm and beat forcing the others to follow. No matter what instrument he plays, he owns it, and he leads the charge.

  He looks so damn happy back there, too. His arms and hands rise and fall in a blindingly fast progression, while his feet pump bass and his eyes twinkle with excitement at doing something new. He moves through the bridge and chorus, and when Shawn hits the final notes of the second verse, the guitars come in hard and fast. Suddenly Tyler is beating the hell out of the drums, making me wet with each pop and hit of the heads.

  He does a groove and repeats it, but the second time around, I notice that the other drummers are standing, facing him with their drumsticks in hand. When he stops at dead space, they hit the cymbals twice and then stop them with their fingers. They repeat the fill six more times, and each time Tyler stops on the second progression, they hit the cymbals, and he looks elated. He’s laughing. I chance a glance over at Shawn again to just see him full-on making out with Shae, no longer singing. They separate long enough to hit their last notes, and the other instruments fade out, followed by deafening screams and applause while everyone bows and runs backstage.

  My boss has pulled aside all three managers now, and I take the chance to slip into the hallway, waiting until Tyler clears the door. He rushes by me with the rest of the guys, and they file into the dressing room. Cam starts pulling his shirt off, but I only have eyes for one person.

  When I reach him, I tackle him, making him lose balance and fall to the floor while I assault him with my hands and lips. He kisses me back, covered in sweat and breathing heavily from his exertion behind the drums. He hums a little and lifts a thumbs-up over my head.

  “Damn it!” Cam is pissed, and he hands Tyler a fifty.

  “More bets?”

  Tyler smiles. “I figured that since you loved the first song so much, then you’d attack me after this one. Cam disagreed, and he lost.”

  “That was for me?”

  He sits up a bit, leaning on his elbows. I feel his hand run through my hair and settle at the base of my scalp, and I look up into his eyes when he sighs and runs his thumb across my neck. “It’s always for you.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  From the Private Journal of Tyler Macy

  First, I need to find more songs that make Emily grind up on me like that.

  Second, I hope this entire thing doesn’t blow up in my face.

  Third, I’m crossing my fingers this one works out this time.

  —M

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  “Hey. You have to get up, right? Aren’t you supposed to meet Laura?”

  “Oh, God. What time is it?”

  His fingers caress my arm and leave goose bumps in their wake. “It’s almost eleven.”

  My entire body is sore, and I feel like I’ve only slept for fifteen minutes. “Everything hurts. Even my toes. I think I sprained one.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  I love that he wants me so much he can’t keep his hands off me for longer than a few minutes at a time. Last night was a prime example. “Maybe I should call and tell her that I need a day to rest. She’ll understand.”

  “No. You need to go see your friend. Maybe your mom?”

  I shake my head and press my face into my pillow. “She’s in Port Washington, and I don’t have time to get a car, go there, and come back. Plus I visit her four times a year on very specific dates. She likes things to be in order, so she won’t appreciate a drop-in. Ever since my dad died, she likes things to be scheduled in advance.”

  “Yeah, I get that.”

  “You can come for Thanksgiving if you want to. She makes really good mashed potatoes. Not the kind you make with flakes. She uses butter and real spuds.” I turn to smile up at him and immediately regret what I’ve just said. “I didn’t mean to imply that . . .”

  He smiles like he adores me and kisses my shoulder. “We should probably call ahead so she knows you’re bringing a guest in six months.”

  By the time I’ve showered and gotten myself ready, it’s a little after twelve. Laura is in the lobby waiting for me, and Tyler is sitting on the bed, naked as the day he was born.

  “I should just stay here. I think that’s a better idea.” His stomach flexes when he sits up, and I’m staring directly at his crotch.

  “You need to go.”

  “But . . .”

  He glances down and back up, a gleam in his dark blue eyes. “It’ll still be here when you get back.”

  I hesitate before spinning around and grabbing the door handle.

  “Be back by six!”

  Laura is beautiful and all smiles when I pull her in for a hug. “How’ve you been?”

  “Eh. Fine.”

  “Sure . . .”

  She makes duck lips. “Did I tell you Grier joined a gym? He’s going three times a week when we’re here.”

  “No shit?”

  “Yeah. And get this. There’s a girl there who he talks about all the time like . . . I don’t know. Like she’s a hot piece of ass.”

  We’re on the sidewalk now, and I link my elbow in hers. “Have you seen this girl?”

  “No. I’ll break her face.”

  “Maybe she doesn’t exist.”

  “Right. Why would he make this up?”

  I squeeze her closer to my side. “To give you a taste of your own medicine.”

  Her steps falter a little, and she stares up at me, realization in her eyes. “Well played, Mr. Deets. I like it. He’s clever, that one. I won’t get rid of him, yet. He’s a good lay.”

  Over a massive burger and heavily salted fries, Laura tells me about what she’s been doing since we last talked. It’s nothing new or exciting, but just getting to spend time with her is brightening my entire outlook.

  “How’s the thing with Tyler?”

  I almost choke. “What?”

  She points a fry in my direction. “You can’t lie to me. I know about all the songs and the album. I even know you had sex before you left.”

  “You do not. How would you know that?”

  She leans back and grins. “Because you just told me.”

  “Damn it. Why am I friends with you?”

  She chews her food happily and waits for me to give her all the details. So I do. From the minute I left Austin until last night, I tell her as much as I can without delving too deep into stories that aren’t mine to tell. By the time I’m done, they’ve cleared our plates, and she’s staring at me with wide-eyed wonder.

  “You love him.”

  “What? I don’t think so. He’s hot and talented . . . in many ways. A lot of ways.”

  “You love him.”

&nbs
p; “Stop.”

  “I’m looking at your face right now, and you want to be with him. You want to quit because of what the boss is asking you to do. Would you stay? Would you follow them and stand backstage? Know all the lyrics and wear leather pants?”

  “They were pleather,” I mumble and drop my face into my hands. “I do know all the lyrics. I help choose the encores. I clean up plastic bottles with unidentifiable liquids in them, and I am the one who has to go find Shawn when he’s passed out. I sleep in a coffin, and sometimes I forget that I’m here for work.”

  The waiter drops off the check, and Laura takes it. While she looks for her card in her purse, she appears to be thinking. Her hand emerges with the plastic, and she places it on the table before making eye contact again. “The question is, are you there for work?”

  “I’m not a groupie, Laura.”

  Her smile is soft, and she relaxes into the booth while she looks me over. “No. You’re not. You’re a band girlfriend.”

  We spend the rest of the day at a spa, getting pampered. The massage is exactly what I need, so I let her talk me into the other stuff, like a facial and pedicure. She has my eyebrows waxed and my cuticles dipped. She has my makeup done and my hair blown out.

  “Just let me see what you look like with a little effort. Who knows? Maybe Tyler will do that thing that hurts your foot again.”

  By the time we’re done, it’s late, and we have to part ways because he said to be back by six. I’m rushing, and it’s putting additional strain on my knee since it was almost worn out last night. When I get there, the hotel room is empty, and I’m confused.

  I’m just about to call him when I see the box on the bed. There’s a note on top that says to be ready by six thirty, which only gives me thirty minutes to find something to wear and . . . get ready.

  I turn to look in the mirror and realize that I already am ready. Hair and makeup done. All I’m missing is a dress. The box on the bed is long and unmarked, with no instructions to be found anywhere. I take a moment to steady myself before I lift the lid, and when I do, I let out a laugh. He bought me a dress. I pull back the paper more, and there are shoes.

  The entire thing is weird and surreal, and I don’t know if it’s some kind of game, but the material is the prettiest blue, and the cut is gorgeous. So I put it on. The dress fits, and it looks fantastic, hugging my body in the right places. It lands just below my knees. The shoes fit, too, and that’s the weirdest part. How does he know all this stuff?

  At exactly six thirty, my phone rings. It’s Tyler, and I’m more confused now than I was half an hour ago.

  “Hey. Where are you? Am I supposed to be wearing this or—”

  “I lost my room card. Can you open the door?”

  “Yeah, hold on.” I put the phone down and pull the door open. And then I let it close.

  “Emily. Can you open the door?”

  “No. What are you doing?” He doesn’t respond, so I crack the door open again and stare at him through the small opening. “What are you doing?” It’s a whisper because he’s in a suit. Holding some flowers. And he looks embarrassed.

  “I’m taking you out on a date. Can you please let me in?” His foot nudges the door wider, and I stand back, unsure. “You look beautiful,” he says and hands me a bouquet of lilies. “You said you liked these once.”

  I take them in my shaking hands and hold my breath for a second before speaking. “You remembered? That was forever ago.”

  He shrugs, suddenly shy. “It seemed like it was important.”

  “Like what size dress I wear and my shoe size?”

  He finally grins and holds his hands up. “You leave your clothes everywhere. It wasn’t that hard to figure it out.”

  “Okay, one last question and I’ll stop being suspicious. How are you paying for this?”

  He extends his arm and tilts his head toward the hallway. “Come to dinner with me, and I’ll tell you.”

  The restaurant is fancy, and I feel out of place. It’s been a long time since I’ve been to a nice place in New York City. It was an entire lifetime ago since I was last dressed up and placed at a table with fine linens and more than one fork.

  Tyler is staring at me from across the table, and I lift my hand to my cheek, blushing. “Is there something wrong with my face?”

  “I’m just admiring how beautiful you are.” The way he says it is real, and my heart speeds up under his gaze.

  “This is expensive, and I know you’re not making money off this tour.”

  He leans across the table like he’s going to tell me a secret. “I sold a song.”

  “You did?”

  “Yeah. It’s going to be in a movie. I sold it about six months ago. That’s how I have money. Now I just wait for the royalty checks to roll in.”

  I’m dumbfounded by this news. He’s kept it from me this entire time.

  The waitress is timid when she approaches and asks if we’re ready. Tyler is fidgeting with his tie while he looks over the menu, and right before he can tell her what he wants to drink, she presses her leather receipt book to her face and flushes red. “I’m so sorry, but you’re Tyler Macy, right?”

  The way he shrinks back from her doesn’t surprise me at all.

  “Yeah, I am. Do I know you?”

  He knows the answer to this question, but his discomfort and anxiety are starting to show.

  She shakes her head and bounces a little. “I’m not supposed to do this at work, but your song is my new favorite. I bought your entire album. It’s so good. I wanted to go to the concert last night, but I had to work and—”

  “That’s really nice of you.”

  She pulls the pen from her book and opens the leather to a clean sheet of paper. “Can I have your autograph? Please?”

  He gives in and does it with a tight smile, but when she walks away, he’s as shaken as I’ve ever seen him. “That’s exactly what I don’t want. I want to play music. I want to be able to go to dinner and make it through an airport without cameras.”

  I shrug and try to lighten the mood. “Come on. Someday you’ll be on a gossip site with a huge white dick above your head. It’s every man’s dream.”

  He drums his fingers rapidly on the white table cloth. “I knew I liked you.”

  “Good, because I like you, too.”

  I’m full after dinner, and it reminds me that I’m getting this little paunch because I haven’t been working out since this started. It’s been a while since I’ve been self-conscious about my body, but the dress hides it well.

  Tyler holds my hand in the car on the way to a place he won’t reveal.

  “One hint.”

  “No. You have got to learn some patience.”

  “I’ll do that thing you like.”

  “Which one?”

  “The one with my teeth.”

  “That’s my favorite, but I’m still not telling.”

  The cab rolls to a stop, and I gaze up at the building, completely taken aback. “We’re at the ballet?”

  “Don’t ruin this. Just let me take you on a fancy date once, and we never have to do it again.”

  He helps me out of the car, and I grip his hand in mine. “I love it. I promise. It’s just . . . unexpected. Do you even like ballet?”

  “Do you even like living on a tour bus?”

  “Huh. Fair enough.”

  We enter the theater with haste, and once we are inside, I take a moment to stand in the entryway and breathe in the ambiance.

  It’s all so familiar, but new at the same time. Tyler tugs a bit on my hand, and I follow his lead while we are escorted to our seats.

  Looking down at the playbill in my hand, I shake my head and laugh. “Cinderella? You don’t have to sit through this, really.”

  I feel him lean over the armrest, and he lifts my chin with his finger, his eyes searching mine. “I want to.” When he moves closer to kiss me, it is the softest, sweetest kiss he’s given me yet.

  He leans back
, and I settle back into my seat and flash him a smile. “You cannot ask me what they are doing onstage. Talking during the performance will get you kicked in the balls, and it ruins the fantasy.”

  “Noted.”

  He reaches for my hand again, and it stays in his. I can’t help but become mesmerized by the dancers onstage while the story unfolds around us. It’s overwhelming how much emotion courses through my body upon seeing these ballerinas move so gracefully. My mind takes me back to that time when this was still my future.

  A time when anything and everything was within my grasp.

  My feet flex instinctively as I watch the dancers glide across the stage. At some point, I feel Tyler’s hand on my back, and I realize that I’ve moved to the edge of my seat and am sitting forward like a child.

  I chance a glance over my shoulder, and his face lights up, so I swivel my head back to the stage in time to see a little toddler run out onto the floor, doing awkward jumps and pretty much just being as cute as is humanly allowed. Her part is small—she’s a scurrying mouse—but she garners oohs and ahs from the crowd. Her blond curls are piled atop her head like a crown, and her chubby little legs are covered in brown tights. I want to chew on her.

  I open my playbill in the dim light to find her bio, and that’s when my entire world comes to a grinding halt. There is a sharp clench in my gut, and my chest grows tight while I try to gather my thoughts. The air is heavy, and my head feels light, making it hard to focus.

  “I have to go.” I stand quickly and excuse myself, apologizing to people while I try to get to the aisle. Tyler is right behind me, but I’m just focused on getting out of the building.

  “Wait, what’s wrong? Talk to me.” He has my upper arm in his grasp, but I don’t stop walking down the stairs. When we’re safely outside the front doors, I stop to catch my breath.

  “We need to go. This was a really nice idea but . . . I can’t.”

  “Talk to me. Why are you freaking out?”