“Wow,” I whispered.
“Yeah,” Blaire said from my side.
“This is the best I’ve ever seen them,” English agreed.
Anna English was Blaire’s publicist. But with the Cosmere publicist, Barbara, out on maternity leave, she had stepped in temporarily for their East Coast performances. She was a New York local and Campbell’s friend.
Blaire’s hands were clasped together and drawn up to her chest. “I can’t believe this came out of one kiss on a rooftop.”
English threw an arm around her shoulders. “Believe it, sister. The muse answers when it’s called.”
Three minutes and forty-five seconds later, the song was over. The crowd exploded with fervor at hearing Cosmere perform. The host came out to congratulate them, shaking hands with Campbell. Then, they went to commercial, the lights turned on, and everything returned to reality.
The band headed back over to the backstage area, as if walking on clouds. Blaire pressed a kiss onto Campbell’s lips. Weston moved to my side, and I gave up holding back. I threw my arms around him.
“You were incredible!”
He laughed and hugged me back, swinging me in a quick circle before depositing me on my feet. “Thanks, Snickers.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Tell you what?”
His eyes dipped to my lips, and I caught my breath. Wondering if we were going to give up this charade. But he pulled back at the last second.
“How magnificent you are.”
He ran a hand back through his hair and shot me a self-deprecating smile. “That is not a word I’d ever use to describe me.”
“Well, you didn’t just see you out there. You were wonderful. I’ve seen you play at home, but fuck, West.”
His smile was genuine there, if not a little abashed. “Thanks, Nor. That means a lot.”
“Come on, you crazy kids,” Santi cheered. “Let’s go get drunk. We’ve earned it.”
“What he said,” Viv agreed.
“I know just the place,” English said.
Campbell stayed back for a few more minutes to thank the host, and then we all piled into an awaiting limo outside of Rockefeller Plaza. Though it was only a mile to Percy Tower, with traffic, it took us a solid twenty minutes to navigate the city. Then, we were escorted the back way into the prestigious hotel and swept up into a private elevator.
“My friend actually owns the building,” English said. “I called him and asked him to secure us some space in the VIP section.”
Weston and I exchanged glances full of incredulity.
But it was Blaire who blurted out, “You know Camden Percy?”
English laughed. “He’s the best man in my upcoming wedding.”
“Who is Camden Percy?” Viv asked, tapping her lime-green nails on her lips.
“CEO of Percy Enterprise,” English said.
“And is he available?” Viv continued.
We all laughed at her audacity, and Santi nudged her.
“He is not,” English said with a sly grin. “And don’t let his wife hear you say that. I love her to death, but she’d eat you alive if you looked at him funny. Katherine Van Pelt is not to be trifled with.”
The elevator opened on the top floor of the hotel to the rooftop bar, Club 360. A bouncer nodded at English as she swept inside with the band, and we were directed to our own private booth in the VIP section. I understood the name of the place now. There was a three-hundred-sixty-degree view of New York City from the top of this skyscraper. We had our own bartender, so no need to go to the bar at the other side of the room, across the already-packed dance floor.
I took the seat next to West as shots were ordered to celebrate their success tonight. We all raised our glasses, and Campbell yelled, “To the new number one song!”
We all cheered and tossed back the shot. The tequila burned all the way down. I nearly choked on it as I scrambled for a lime.
“Whoa,” I whispered. “I am way too used to beer.”
West laughed. “Yeah. You should take it easy. We don’t want you to get sloppy and start crawling around on the floor.”
My eyes widened. I shot a furtive look at the group. “You wouldn’t want that?”
He winked at me. “All right. Maybe. But not sloppy.”
“Maybe?” I asked.
“Definitely.” He leaned forward, whispering into my ear, “And have you lie out for me to look, but this time, I get to touch, too.”
My cheeks flushed. I’d been so embarrassed by how I’d acted that first night, and now, I wanted nothing more to go back to that moment with him right this very second.
“Not fair,” I said. “We can’t do anything here.”
“Later,” he said with a wink.
Then, he stood and headed over to a beckoning Santi. Blaire caught my eye and raised her eyebrows in question. I opened and closed my mouth. What could I say? I needed to be more careful if I didn’t want anyone to notice what was going on. Two weeks of incredible sex made it hard to keep my hands to myself.
“Ladies and gentlemen, the party has arrived!”
Our party glanced up at the announcement as a guy strode into our midst with his friends trailing behind him. He was…gorgeous. There was no other way to describe it. He had the build of someone who had never had a moment’s pause to his importance. Money dripped off his designer suit and in every self-confident stride forward. And though I’d never seen him before in my life, he looked so much like Blaire’s ex, Nate King, that I had to do a double take.
English got to her feet and was swept into a hug. “Gavin King. Since when are you the life of the party?”
“Always, babe,” he said, kissing her cheek.
“Fuck off, King.” The guy behind him shoved him out of the way and then took English up in his arms and pressed a long, lingering kiss on her lips. He was also almost-unrealistically handsome. I was used to being surrounded by the Wright wealth and prestige in Texas, but this was a whole other world of beauty.
“My fiancé, Court Kensington,” English introduced to the rest of the party.
I gaped. “Wait, you’re marrying a Kensington? The Kensington?”
Court’s mother was the mayor of New York City. I’d seen their engagement photos all over. I hadn’t put together that she was that Anna English. And now, I was trying not to fangirl. This wedding was a wedding planner’s dream.
English grinned. “That’s me.”
“You’re the wedding of the season. All the magazines are talking about it.” I was gushing, and still, I couldn’t help it.
“See, love, all the magazines are talking about it,” Court said with a wink at his fiancée.
She sighed heavily. “Obviously. I know what I’m doing. That doesn’t mean I have to be happy about it.”
“If you say one more word about eloping,” Court warned with a note of humor.
“Please, just be more like your brother.” She fluttered her eyelashes at him.
He snagged her in for a rough kiss. “I’ll get you for that later.”
English laughed and turned back to me. “You follow weddings?”
“Oh, Nora is a wedding planner,” Blaire interjected. “She’s planning the Locke-King wedding.”