I gulp the wine in my mouth, swallow wrong, and start choking, spitting wine all over the granite breakfast bar. Gabby and Lauren leap out of their seats, Gabby coming around to slap me on the back, Lauren grabbing a wad of paper towels to clean up the mess I’ve just made.
Gasping and spluttering, eyes streaming, I shake my head, trying to wave them off. “I’m okay, I’m okay,” I protest, while Gabby continues rubbing my back and Lauren offers me a dry paper towel to blot the wine on my shirt and jeans. “Sorry. Went down the wrong pipe.”
Just then Colt comes back in from wherever he’d disappeared to with his brothers, his forehead furrowed. “Alexis? What’s wrong?” He looks at Gabby and Lauren, his face cold as he wraps a protective arm around me. “Why is she crying?”
I pat his chest before he can get all vengeful and protective. “I’m fine. I just swallowed wrong and started choking. I’m okay, though.” I’m still coughing a little, the tickle in my throat feeling like it might never go away.
Jonathan and Brendan come into the room, talking loudly and laughing. Gabby and Lauren, distracted by their arrival, leave me to Colt, who still looks concerned. Standing from the stool, I wrap my arms around him and press up on my toes to give him a kiss. “I’m fine. I promise.”
“Good,” he murmurs against my lips. “Can’t have anything happening to you.”
“Did you want to show her the studio?” Brendan calls from the other side of the room, and I pull away from Colt, looking past him at his brother, then back at Colt.
A sexy smile lifts Colt’s lips. “Wanna go see where we’re going to be recording your newest songs?”
And just like that, all thought of having to explain our elopement vanishes as we head down the hall to Brendan’s studio.
Chapter Thirty-One
Colt
By the time we get home again, Alexis is sleepy and relaxed. Lauren offered us a spare bedroom at their place so we wouldn’t get home so late, but after exchanging a glance, we’d both declined.
It’s been a stressful evening, between our argument in the car to navigating the potential landmines of explaining our relationship—which went surprisingly well, at least on my end—and the best place for us right now is home. Alone. Together.
I know I’d feel inhibited in my brother’s house, especially after the way they were ragging on me about interrupting them having sex. With my luck, they’d all think it was hilarious to do the same to me, despite the fact that I only did it to them when they were boning backstage before a show. Which both of my brothers have a penchant for.
Although, now that I’m with Alexis, I can’t say I blame them. Still. There’s a time and a place. And you can’t get mad at your assistant for doing their job.
They’d just be interrupting Alexis and me out of spite. And with tonight being our first declaration of love? I’m not willing to risk them fucking anything up for me.
I’ve proven over and over that I’m perfectly capable of fucking things up on my own. And with everything going pretty right for the first time in way too long, I’ll be damned if I let anyone else fuck something up for me when I’ve managed not to so far.
“What are you thinking about?” Alexis asks softly, her head resting against the seat back and her eyes sparkling under the streetlamp in the parking lot.
I give her a soft smile, pick up her hand, and brush a kiss across her knuckles. “You. How happy I am that you’re with me, even if none of this is going how either of us intended. I think what we have is good. And I want to see how far this’ll go.”
She straightens, leaning in and placing a kiss on my mouth, her lips soft and pliant against mine. “Me too,” she whispers, her breath fanning over my face.
“Let’s go inside,” I whisper back.
She smiles her sweet, beautiful smile and pulls away, popping the door open and climbing out before I can even move.
With a laugh that’s pure joy, I climb out of the car too, locking it as I catch up to her, tangling my hand with hers as the wind flirts with her hair. It’s soft tonight. She used some of my non-crunchy styling cream, giving her a sweeter, relaxed look rather than the edgier vibe she goes with for performances.
And as much as I love her sharp edges and hard planes, I love this sweet, soft side too. It’s a privilege to get to see all of the facets of her that she keeps carefully curated and hidden from public consumption.
No one has ever trusted me with all of their hidden parts before. And I’m going to do my damnedest to deserve it.
I answer my phone without looking at the caller ID, expecting Alexis’s voice on the other end when I pick it up and say, “Hey, babe.” She’s at another meeting with Delores. Apparently there’s another label interested in her, and she’s agreed to take a meeting with them. When she told me about it, I had to grind my teeth in frustration and paste on a smile, telling her how great that is while all the while screaming that I thought we’d agreed on going a different direction.
But even at Brendan’s the other night, she mentioned that she saw going indie as a potential way to attract more attention from a label. It’s a stepping stone to her, not a destination in and of itself.
And can I really blame her? If I had a label interested in me, I’d take the meeting too. Especially if my agent were encouraging it.
So I’d kissed her goodbye and been supportive, even though I’m sure she saw through my act. She’s not dumb. But she didn’t ask if I was upset, and I’m not going to be the asshole that tries to drag her down. My job is to help her look better, after all, to make her more attractive to a label. What kind of jackass would I be if I tried to change the deal now?
Sure, we’re starting to use the L-word. Tentatively still. But we’ve each said it a few times, even if it’s mostly been during or right after sex. There are real feelings there on both sides. Which is just another reason to be supportive, in the end. I love her. I want her to get what she wants. And if that means signing with a label, then I’ll support her one hundred percent.
I just hope she’ll at least help me pick good songs while I pursue my indie career and maybe perform with me occasionally because our duets have the most views and I fully expect them to be our best sellers once we have the official recordings up.
But it’s not Alexis’s voice that responds to my greeting. It’s my mother’s.
“Colt. I take it you were expecting someone else?”
I swallow the sigh that wants to escape. “Alexis is at a meeting. I thought she was calling to tell me how it went. How are you, Mom?”
She hums, the sound equal parts speculation and censure. “I’m well. I haven’t heard from you in almost two months, though, so I’m not sure how much you really care.”
I grit my teeth. “If you recall, you weren’t too thrilled with me the last time we spoke, so I thought you’d like some time to … recover from your upset.”
A sardonic laugh trickles into my ear. “I hear your brothers have met your little wife.”
I grit my teeth, anger threading through me at the demeaning appellation as well as the idea of either of my brothers talking to her about Alexis. It’s not surprising, really. I can’t blame them. I did the same when I was in their position. And I’m quite sure they’re not even doing it to get back at me. They’re probably trying to help. Just like I was.