Rockstar’s Accidental Marriage (Wild Band Rockstars #2)

19. Nineteen

Nineteen

Emily

The morning dawns bright and clear. It’s the kind of peaceful, perfect day that makes leaving this house even harder. I roll out of bed slowly, my body grateful for the rare morning free of nausea. For a moment, I consider waking Sam to share the good news but decide against it. He’s already smug enough about how he’s ‘helping me’ avoid morning sickness.

After a quick shower, I tiptoe downstairs, letting Sam sleep a little longer. The quiet feels sacred as I move through the kitchen, starting his coffee and brewing myself some herbal tea. The blueberry muffins we picked up from a local bakery sit neatly in their box, a small comfort amid the disorder of leaving our home.

I double-check the fridge, ensuring nothing perishable remains. It’s almost empty, save for condiments. Satisfied, I close the door just as Sam shuffles into the kitchen, his hair irresistibly rumpled, his eyes still heavy with sleep.

“Morning,” he mumbles, rubbing a hand over his face.

“Morning,” I reply, handing him his coffee.

He takes a sip, his eyes slightly narrowing as he studies me. “How are you feeling?”

I hesitate, debating whether to admit the truth. But his gaze is steady and warm, and I know he’ll see through me if I lie. “Not too bad this morning,” I admit, my cheeks flushing.

His lips curve into a smirk, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “We’ll have to keep that in mind.”

“Don’t get too excited,” I warn, biting into a muffin to distract myself from the flutter in my chest.

As he leans in to kiss me, I can’t help but smile because I really am feeling quite good.

The house feels quiet as we make our final rounds, checking for anything we might have missed. I'm struck by how much I'll miss this—not just the physical intimacy, but these quiet moments where it's just us, no complications, no pressure.

I’m going to miss this place,” I say softly, my voice tinged with wistfulness.

Sam nods, his expression thoughtful. “It has been good for us.”

I give a last look around. But I know it’s time.

As the truck pulls away from the gravel driveway, I keep my eyes firmly on the road ahead, refusing to look back.

Cass’s office-studio is a hive of activities when we arrive. The energy is thick, a mix of excitement and nerves buzzing in the air. This isn’t just Cass’s territory anymore—it’s mine, too. I take a deep breath, adjusting my notes as I step inside.

Sam follows close behind. His presence helps steady me, though I can sense his tension. He’s been quieter than usual this morning, his jokes fewer and softer. I wonder if he’s feeling the same mix of anticipation and apprehension that I am.

Inside, Cass sits at the round conference table, Kendrick beside him with Cassidy perched on a chair. They look like the picture of a perfect family, and a pang of something sharp twists in my chest. Is it jealousy? Happiness for them? Or just the ache of wanting that for myself someday?

The rest of the band filters in—Vince with his hoodie pulled up, Luke clutching a muffin, and Nate looking like he’s just crawled out of bed.

I clear my throat, drawing everyone’s attention. “All right, team. Let’s get started. We’ve got a lot to cover before we hit the road.”

Cass leans back in his chair, letting me take the lead.

“This tour is a big deal,” I continue, my tone brisk and professional. “Ticket sales are good, and we’re playing some of the best venues we’ve ever booked. But that also means expectations are high. We need to be at the top of our game.”

Nate nods, strumming his fingers against the table, while Vince yawns, clearly unimpressed. Luke leans back, feigning disinterest, but I catch the flicker of curiosity in his eyes.

“The setlist is solid, but we’ll need to be flexible for encores,” I say, glancing at Cass. “Kendrick has already coordinated with the venues to ensure everything runs smoothly.”

Kendrick gives me a small nod, her smile warm.

“The tour buses are ready,” I add. “Relying on the buses, not penthouses and hotel rooms, means we should break even on the tour costs earlier than expected.” I glance up. “Cass and his family will be on one. Everyone else is on the second bus.”

“Great,” Luke says, leaning back further. “Another tour stuck on Vince’s snoring bus.”

“Hey,” Vince snaps, tossing a wadded-up napkin at him.

“Focus,” I say, crossing my arms. “We’ve done this before. You know the drill. You’re professionals. Act like it.”

My gaze sweeps the table, meeting each of theirs in turn. Sam’s lips twitch in what I can only describe as grudging approval, but he doesn’t look away.

“Any questions?” I ask, arching a brow.

“Yeah,” Luke jokes, “Do we get snack breaks?”

A few chuckles ripple around the table, and I roll my eyes. “Snack breaks are on your own time. Meeting adjourned.”

Outside, the tour bus engines are silent. Cass and his family pile into the first bus, Cassidy bouncing up the steps with endless energy. Kendrick gives me a quick hug before following her, and Cass shoots me a grin as he hoists a box of equipment inside.

“Don’t let them drive you crazy,” he says, jerking his thumb toward the second bus.

“No promises,” I reply, earning a chuckle.

Our bus is less polished and rougher around the edges, but it’s home for the next few weeks. Luke, Vince, and Nate are already sprawled across the couches in the front lounge, their gear scattered in organized chaos.

“Finally,” Vince says, cracking open another energy drink. “I was starting to think you two were ditching us.”

“Not a bad idea,” Sam mutters under his breath, earning a laugh from Nate.

I glance around, taking in the small kitchen, the narrow hallway lined with bunks, and the back lounge that doubles as a makeshift studio. It’s familiar but different, the energy charged with anticipation and a hint of unease.

“Pick a bunk,” Luke says, gesturing vaguely toward the hallway.

I exchange a look with Sam, and he shrugs. “Ladies first.”

The road stretches before us, but my mind keeps drifting back to the quiet sanctuary of the beach house. Leaving felt harder than I’d expected. As the bus rumbles to life beneath me, I settle into one of the seats by the window, watching the scenery blur into motion.

Sam drops into the seat beside me, his knee bumping mine lightly. “You okay?”

I nod, though my chest feels tight. “Yeah. Just adjusting.”

He leans back, his arm draped casually over the back of the seat. “It’s always like this the first day. Give it a few hours—you’ll be bossing everyone around again in no time.”

I shake my head, but his comment pulls a smile from me despite myself. “You make me sound like a drill sergeant.”

He grins, tilting his head in mock consideration. “More like a benevolent dictator. Sometimes benevolent.”

I laugh lightly, but the humor fades as my gaze returns to the road. The chatter from the front lounge drifts toward us—Luke and Nate bickering over a playlist, Vince scrolling through his phone while muttering about social media obligations—the usual tour bus chaos.

“I need to get used to this again,” I blurt out, breaking the comfortable silence between us. “Being on the road. The chaos, the constant motion. I’d forgotten how it feels.”

Sam tilts his head, considering my words. “Yeah. But you’re right—it feels different this time.”

“How so?”

He shrugs, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “It’s harder to leave things behind now. I guess the more you have to lose, the harder it is to walk away from it.”

His words hang in the air, wiser than I expected, and I feel the knot in my chest tighten.

“Yeah,” I say softly. “I feel that way, too.”

For a moment, neither of us speaks. I catch him glancing at me occasionally, his expression unreadable, and I wonder if he’d rather spend time with the guys than sit here with me.

When we reach the next location, the atmosphere shifts instantly. Excitement and nerves buzz through the air as crew members rush to unload equipment. Sound checks echo through the cavernous space, and the bright glare of stage lights flickers as they’re adjusted.

“Is the setlist finalized?” I ask, weaving through the chaos with my checklist in hand.

“Yeah,” Cass says, handing me a copy. “We’re good to go.”

“Good,” I reply briskly, scanning the list. “Let’s keep it tight. We’re right on schedule.”

Even as I say the words, a feeling of unease sweeps over me. I continue my final rounds of checking in with the crew to confirm that all systems are running smoothly. Everything was fine earlier during soundcheck—Cass’s mic levels were perfect, the lighting cues were flawless, and the stage setup was exactly as planned. But now, I can’t shake the feeling that something’s wrong.

“Emily!” one of the sound techs calls out, jogging toward me with a frazzled look. “We’ve got an issue with the backing track for ‘Unbreakable.’ The file won’t load into the system.”

“What?” My heart skips a beat. That track is crucial—it enhances the live sound during the instrumental bridge, and without it, the performance will feel hollow.

“I swear it was working earlier,” he says, pulling out his tablet to show me the error message. “But now it’s just... gone.”

I swallow my rising panic and focus. “Did anyone touch the system after soundcheck?”

He shakes his head. “Not that I know of.”

I glance around the stage, my mind racing. This shouldn’t be happening. “Okay, reload it from the backup drive. If that doesn’t work, let me know immediately.”

He nods and dashes back to his station. I pace the edge of the stage, my stomach twisting. It takes less than ten minutes, but those minutes feel like hours before he gives me a thumbs-up. “It’s good to go!”

Relief washes over me, but it’s fleeting. I try to brush it off, but a nagging worry lingers in the back of my mind. Everything was fine earlier—so why did this happen at all? It feels like a warning, and I don’t like it.

As I glance around the bustling stage, my eyes automatically seek out Sam. He’s talking with Luke and Nate, gesturing animatedly toward their instruments. His calm confidence is like a lifeline. I exhale slowly, his presence steadying me in a way I can’t explain. Whatever’s going on, I’ll deal with it. Somehow.

The energy reaches a fever pitch as the doors open and fans pour in. The band is backstage, going through their pre-show rituals like clockwork. Cass paces near the entrance, mic in hand. Luke and Nate are cracking jokes. Vince, as always, is laser-focused on his guitar, his fingers moving over the strings with practiced ease.

“We’ve got this,” I say as I pass Cass, meeting his eyes.

He grins. “Don’t we always?”

Sam’s fingers dance over the strings of his bass guitar, his concentration fierce, his energy infectious. At one point, he looks up, his eyes locking on mine across the stage. A sexy smile curves his lips, and he winks. My heart flips in response, but I force myself to look away. His energy is so intense. Instead, I try to focus on my clipboard, ignoring his pull.

By the time the encore ends and the band exits the stage, everyone is riding the high of a perfect show.

“Hell of a start,” Cass says, clapping Sam on the back as they head toward the dressing rooms.

Sam glances at me, his eyes warm, and I smile back at him. He then grins, looking around and giving everyone a thumbs up. “Not bad for a first night back.”

His words dissolve the tension that hung over the band earlier—first-night jitters replaced by satisfaction and camaraderie.

From the wings, I watch with my chest tight, pride and relief coursing through me as all the moving parts fall perfectly into place.

For now...