I can’t help but wonder for a moment why I am the one who initiated last night’s conversation…why he’s held on for as long as he has when I’m the one who seems to have changed.
I used to be more supportive. I used to be more encouraging. I used to be there for him, but since Ainsley was born, she’s become our priority. That falls on us both, but somewhere along the line we stopped communicating with each other, each falling into our own roles and doing our own thing when the whole purpose of marriage is to have someone else to help you handle everything.
I guess that’s what we’re doing here. Handling it.
A woman I’ve never seen before greets my husband by name, and it takes all of ten seconds before he’s recognized by a patron and subsequently mobbed.
People don’t go to bars owned by celebrities without some shred of hope they’ll run into the owner, and that theory proves true as James smiles wryly at me then greets the fans clamoring to get to him.
He signs autographs and smiles for photos and we literally can’t move an inch without someone else asking for something.
It’s insane.
It’s intense.
It’s hot.
Real hot.
It’s been ages since I’ve seen James in his element.
Mark tends to get the most attention as the front man of the band. Ethan is probably second in line because of his past of making headlines for all the wrong reasons. Combined with the fact that the two of them were on a reality show together, and they’re the most recognizable faces of the band.
And then there’s my husband. The quiet, charming, laid-back guy who might not be as well-known as his counterparts but has become somewhat of a household name anyway in recent years thanks to the podcast he co-hosts with Vail’s fourth member, Steve.
I back off to let him do his thing, but he keeps shooting looks at me. They’re halfway between apologetic and needy, and I want to figure out a way to get him out of there, but I also can’t stop staring.
My thighs clench as I think about how all the women trying to get close to him want him. They want him for a night, or maybe for forever, simply because of what he does for a living.
But he’s coming home to me.
He’s married to me.
He’s fighting for me.
And I need to start fighting for him, too.
I get so caught up in the day-to-day monotony that I lost this feeling, this excitement. The only thing that might make it even more interesting is if Vail took the stage for a surprise performance. I haven’t seen James perform since Vail’s last tour ended a few months ago, and I’ve missed everything about it.
And that’s when I feel someone sidle up beside me and elbow me a little. I turn with a glare for the offender when I find Reese standing beside me.
“Fancy bumping into you here,” she says with a grin.
I pull her in for a tight squeeze. “What are you doing here?”
She nods toward the stage, where her husband has taken the microphone in his hand, his guitar slung over his shoulder.
“We need our guitarist!” he yells into the microphone, and I laugh as the crowd surrounding James starts to dissipate as everyone runs over to the stage.
James swings by me on his way toward the stage, and he brushes his lips softly to mine. “Don’t worry. Maci stayed home with Ainsley and Bianca. This one’s for you, babe.”
My heart melts with love, and the rest of me melts into a puddle of lust.
He leaps up onto the stage, and Vic, the band’s assistant, hands James his guitar.
And then they play the hell out of an impromptu set at our bar.
Reese presses a glass of wine to my palm, and Angelique appears on my other side. The three of us sing all the words to all the songs as we dance.
It’s magical.
And the best part? All the things I’ve missed about watching my husband on stage greet me as I move toward the side of the stage where he’s playing. His eyes search out mine in the crowd. He mouths I love you to me. He’s thinking about me while he’s up there.
The setlist is a compilation of my favorite songs of theirs—the ones that highlight James on guitar the most. His eyes are on me throughout the entire surprise set, and I can’t seem to tear my eyes from him, either.
“Did you talk to him last night?” Reese asks.
I press my lips together and nod. “I told him I was thinking of leaving him. He told me he wants to prove why I shouldn’t.”
“He’s fighting,” she says. “Is that what you want?”
I turn to look at her, tears shining in my eyes. “It’s all I want.”
She slings an arm around me and squeezes me in. “You two will fix this. You’re the most stable couple I know. We’ve all been through it. New babies, new life, post-tour spirals, outside forces…if anyone can make it through, it’s you and James.”
I nod. “Thanks, Reese.” I nod toward the stage. “Whose idea was this?”
Her lips tip up in a smile. “Your husband’s.”
My heart races as I realize he still knows me. Of course he does. Maybe we haven’t been communicating like we used to, but some things never change. We speak through music, and we speak through sex. And if those two elements are missing, or if we aren’t giving them enough time and attention…then it upsets the balance.
I should’ve gone there first. I should’ve realized that, but after months and months of feeling this way, my mind went to wondering how I could improve my situation by removing myself from it.
The more he fights, though, the more I’m starting to see that’s not the answer at all.
When the private performance is over, the band members run to the offices in the back of the bar to drop off their equipment for their local roadies to load up. I meet James back there.
“Want to take this out to the alley once the crew wraps up?” I murmur close to his ear.
His eyes heat over when they connect with mine, and one side of his mouth tips up in a salacious smile as he shakes his head.
The sting of rejection bites me, but then he leans in close to my ear.
“I have big, big plans for you, my wife.” He reaches down and squeezes my ass as his tongue darts out to lick that spot behind my ear that always gives me goosebumps.
I noticeably shiver as the ache between my legs pulses, and he simply raises a brow as he backs away. He moves over to talk to Mark, Steve, and Ethan, and then he comes back to me.
“Ready?” he asks.
“For what?”
He gives me that same salacious smile. “You’ll see.” Then he leads me out the back door, where the Yukon is waiting for us.
CHAPTER 5
James’s hand is on my thigh the entire way as the Yukon takes us to the Van Nuys Airport, known as one of the busiest airports for private jets. We board Mark’s plane then spend the entire flight with me guessing our destination, and we land in Vegas a little over an hour later.
“I didn’t bring anything for an overnight trip,” I say as I grip onto my clutch—the only personal belonging I have with me.
He chuckles. “Live a little, babe.”
We own a condo in a building here in Vegas, a home away from home since Vail spends a lot of time in this city, but I still usually bring a small overnight bag with my essentials. And, you know, I usually bring my child when I leave the state.