Hadn’t I thought that he might be able to give me more than just romance-novel sex? Hadn’t I thought that we could have an entire romance novel relationship?
The nerves in my belly shivered and prickled. My mouth was dry, half with fear and half with excitement. It was a huge step, but I should take it, rather than letting my prejudices color everything. Because despite my upbringing, my head understood—at least logically—that not every man was like my father. If so, the divorce rate would be stratospheric.
“Okay,” I said. “Dallas sounds like a great place to spend the summer months.”
A smile broke out on his face. We sealed our agreement with a kiss…and then much more.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Killian
The next day, Emily worked at the dining table while I reviewed email and some reports from my financial manager. He sent them every quarter to let me know how rapidly my money was multiplying. And it was, which was great… But every time I thought about the money, I missed my parents. Almost everything—all those billions—had come from them. And it had provided the initial funding the band needed to buy our first instruments and equipment, get studio time, pay the sound mixers and all that. It was as though they’d known what I would need to pursue my dream, even before I was old enough to know what it was myself.
My phone buzzed with a text from Dev.
–Devlin: Hey, wanted to catch up because we didn’t get to talk yesterday. The girls are finally gone now. Sorry about what happened. I would’ve never done that if I’d known.
I sighed. It was hard to stay mad at him for long. He always knew when he screwed up and wasn’t too proud to say he was sorry. Besides, he’d genuinely thought he was doing me a favor by bringing those girls.
–Me: It’s okay. But next time, ask before you decide to bring women over. Not having that again with Emily.
–Devlin: I will. I was just trying to help. I thought maybe you were spiraling into some kind of abyss to be reading romance novels. So I’m gonna be good in Dallas. Shit, I guess that means I need to start being good now. I also owe a favor or two to your girl, too.
I frowned as I tried to process his text. He could be a bit unclear, especially when he had more than two things on his mind.
–Me: You there already? Not hitting a nude beach in Europe before June?
–Devlin: Trying to get my head back into the music. And the girls in Dallas are hot, too. Gotta diversify my diet. I’ve eaten enough European.
I shook my head. Discussing women like they were food groups. Don’t just eat veggies—gotta have some meat, too.
–Devlin: And since I’m here, I’ll get the house cleaned up.
We had a huge gated mansion in the city. Paid about two million for it three years ago. There was tons of space, but it was a bachelor pad with video games, an indoor basketball hoop (Max’s idea, not mine), a pinball machine, bowling alleys, a hot tub big enough for an orgy (Dev’s contribution) and a gigantic, in-progress pyramid of empty Red Bull cans. That was why Cole spent more time in his fiancée’s modest apartment than at the mansion. And I couldn’t envision Emily working in a space like that. She couldn’t even tolerate drums. I definitely needed to figure something out for her.
–Devlin: Got any requests? Any new toys you want?
–Me: Nah, I’m good. But I need to look for a new place.
–Devlin: Dude… You still mad at me?
–Me: No. Just can’t have Emily live there.
–Devlin: She’s moving here with you?
I wanted more than just to move in with her. I could see myself with her long-term. Live and be together, like Mom and Dad. Emily seemed a bit skeptical about romance in general, which was understandable given what I’d heard about her parents’ marriage. But I could make up for that. I could show her how it could be.
–Me: Yeah. I asked real nice, like a gentleman.
–Devlin: Gentleman, my ass. You’re a rock star.
–Me: A gentleman rock star. It’s a new category.
I could almost hear Dev grunt and laugh at the same time.
–Devlin: Want me to look at some places for you?
I started to type yes, then stopped. This was Dev. His idea of good was probably going to be an orgy pad. As though he’d read my mind, Devlin texted again.
–Devlin: I have excellent taste and judgment. Just ask anybody.
–Me: Is that what your girls said, or your lawyer?
–Devlin: I’m not having a lawyer pick out a place for you and Emily.
–Me: Don’t bother. I’ll have Felicia handle it.
–Devlin: You trust your assistant more than me?
–Me: Yep. Nothing personal.
–Devlin: That’s what people always say when it’s personal. Anyway, I gotta go. I’m meeting an interior designer.
An alarm rang in my head.
–Me: Why? Are you going to redo the house?
There was a big difference between cleaning and interior decoration. The band didn’t need a brothel-themed home away from home. What if Emily wanted to see it? It’d be too embarrassing.
–Devlin: No. But I’m going to say that I am. Gives me a reason to meet her. She’s hot.
I relaxed in my seat. Should have known.
Then I felt sorry for the poor interior designer, who might be counting on the potential contract.
–Me: You shouldn’t lie and waste her time.
–Devlin: Lie? She wears a push-up bra, heels and a ton of makeup.
–Me: You have a point.
–Devlin: It’s called dating, not lying. Birds always fluff up their best feathers to get the chicks. It’s the same thing. If she gets mad because she found your ugly feathers, oh well. She should’ve inspected the merchandise better.
Spoken like a true player with lots of nonsensical mixed metaphors thrown in. I ignored his advice and texted Felicia to work up a list of a few decent places for me and Emily.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Emily
I rolled my shoulders to unkink the knots. Staring at all the teasers, graphics and posts for the book launch made my eyes ready to fall out. The manuscript was edited, proofread and formatted in record time…but the process had still taken three weeks. Less than a day remained before the release date. It felt like nausea had been roiling in my gut forever, and had now gotten to the point that it just felt buzzy—like a million angry bees were trapped inside. Sweat slickened my palms, and I wiped them on my pants.
This was it. My Fair Molly was the best book I’d written, and had the most extensive publicity and promotion campaigns to push it out into the world. If it failed, I didn’t know what I’d do.
Probably throw up. Then cry. Then consider fleeing the country so I could avoid seeing the ads.
My gaze landed on the lavender flowers Killian had brought yesterday. The purple bouquet smelled amazing. He said I needed to relax, and since it wasn’t easy with so much riding on this book, he decided to bring me something to soothe my nerves.
He was just too damned thoughtful, like he knew exactly what I needed before I even said it. And that made me more optimistic about the decision to go with him to Dallas.
“How come you know how I’m feeling?” I’d asked him.