She returns my smile with one of her own and holds up her hand, her thumb and first finger pinched together with a few millimeters of space between them. “Little bit.”
My laughter provokes a round of giggles from her, dispelling any lingering tension from our ongoing conflict about her diet. I really just need to let it go. She’s an adult. She didn’t ask my opinion. And even though, yeah, we are actually married, it’s just supposed to be a business deal. The fact that I care about her—and based on this conversation, she also cares about me—isn’t supposed to factor into anything.
Alexis adjusts her position on the couch, setting her notebooks aside, her face wrinkled in a mix of confusion and concern. “I don’t get it. Do you always get this nervous before a show?”
My smile slides off my face as my nerves resettle in my body, setting my stomach roiling and my legs jiggling. “No.” I shake my head. “This one is different, though. As a kid, I was clueless enough to not care what people thought. We’d been getting told how amazing we were for a long time, so I just thought it was an unequivocal truth. And even performing with Jonathan for his shows, those were our hits and a good chunk of his audience is former fans who’ve grown up. So that was pretty much a guaranteed good reception. But this?” I spread my hands. “This is unknown territory. And I’ve had nothing but rejection apart from Brash.”
Sympathy flits across her face. “Trust me. You’ll be great. And you know I’d tell you if I thought you’d suck.”
I flash her a grin. “Yeah. I know. And I appreciate the vote of confidence.”
“But …”
“But as much as I believe you, it doesn’t settle my nerves. The only thing that’ll make me feel better is getting tomorrow over with.”
She purses her lips and moves them back and forth, and I know she wants to say something, but she’s clearly hesitant.
I roll my hand in the air. “Spit it out. Why hold back now?”
A laugh bursts out of her, quick and sharp, but she still won’t meet my eyes as she picks at fuzz balls on the back of the loveseat. “I know I don’t have a right to say anything, but …” After hesitating a moment, she raises her eyes to mine again. “Don’t run tomorrow, okay? You need to save your energy for the show. Not exhaust yourself the day of.”
Standing, I offer her a small smile and brush my fingers across the back of her hand. “I won’t. And I appreciate the concern.” Even if you don’t like it when I reciprocate. “But you have to promise me something in return.” I’m pushing it. I know it.
“What?” The single word is full of unreserved curiosity. It’s like she doesn’t even have a suspicious bone in her body.
“Make tomorrow a cheat day and eat a little more. If I’m not allowed to run so I have enough energy for the show, you need to eat enough to have energy too.”
Her eyes narrow, and she looks almost mutinous. But I don’t back down. Don’t soft peddle it. I hold her eyes and force her to either accept or reject my proposal.
After a long moment, she lets out a breath and drops my gaze. “Fine,” she grumbles. “But nothing too crazy.”
Acting on impulse, I tip her chin up and brush a brief kiss across her lips. “I promise. Nothing too crazy. Just some extra carbs at lunch and a smoothie before the show.” And before she can answer, I head for the shower, not wanting to give her the opportunity to take back her promise or chastise me for the kiss.
I haven’t kissed her since our wedding day, and her lips are perfect. And dammit, I miss the way they feel under mine. Even if I’m not supposed to.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Alexis
We have a lazy morning of the show, sleeping in, having a leisurely breakfast. I don’t complain when Colt piles more food than normal on my plate, having agreed to eat more today.
It’s hard, though. Normally I’m ravenous, and the amount of food I eat only takes the edge off. I could totally eat this amount of food on the regular and feel great.
But today? Colt’s nerves must’ve infected me, because I’m having a hard time getting it all down. That, or I’m just nervous in my own right. And who could blame me? I’m debuting a whole night of new material. I can’t use any of the songs that we sang as Golden Enigma even if I wanted to. I don’t have the rights anymore. The label could come after me unless I’d reached out to negotiate either a flat fee or giving them a portion of our take.
And since our take is impossible to predict, though early ticket sales have been surprisingly decent, with a short lead time, there’s no way to know how full the venue will end up being. I’m trying not to set my hopes on a sold-out show. But if we could pull that off, it would set us up for bigger and better venues, and a series of strong performances could attract the kind of attention I need right now.
I manage to eat all my food anyway, because that’s the deal I made with Colt. And instead of changing, he’s lounging next to me on the loveseat in all his shirtless-and-gray-sweatpants-clad glory, searching for a movie to eat up the next ninety minutes.
“What time should we head to the venue?” I ask as he scrolls through the available options.
“Our sound check is at five and the show starts at seven. So we should leave by three thirty or so to give us plenty of time to get there and get settled.” His pretty blue eyes meet mine. “Sound good?”
I nod, mute.
He drops a hand on my knee and gives it a squeeze, sending a delicious shiver racing through my body. “We’ll be fine,” he says and takes his hand away. Which is good. Because using him for stress release and to calm my nerves would be a bad idea. For all the reasons I’ve listed in my head over and over and over again.
“Are you trying to convince me or yourself?” I ask.
He chuckles. “Both?”
The movie’s over way too fast and also it drags on forever, even though it’s a rom-com I’ve seen before. Time is weird when you’re nervously anticipating your return to the stage. Because it’s been months since my last performance, and this will be my first one in ages without my band on stage with me. It’ll just be me, my guitar, and a mic. I haven’t done anything like this since I played open mic nights at the local coffee shop when I was a sophomore in high school.
At least these people are coming to see me. And Colt. Us. Plus Colt is a surprisingly steady source of comfort, even though he can barely sit still, alternating between jiggling his knee a million miles an hour or tapping his fingers on anything and everything.
At one point during the movie, I reach over and grab his hand just to get him to stop for a while because it’s driving me bonkers.
He gives me a rueful grin. “Sorry.”
I smile back. “It’s okay. I get it. But I’m just going to hold your hand for a bit so you don’t start up again, because I need a break from the tapping.”
With a nod and the remnant of that grin still turning up the corner of his mouth, he turns his attention back to the TV. But I don’t miss the way he turns his hand over beneath mine and holds my hand right back. It’s not the boyfriend/girlfriend fingers laced together kind of hand holding. It’s more platonic than that. But it’s the most consistent touching we’ve done in weeks.