28. Evangeline
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
evangeline
Pressure points thump-thumping
Beneath our fingertips
Liquid breath flowing between our lips
And yet we’re still dying of thirst
R ye strides toward Lily and me with his signature grin. “Twenty minutes to go, ladies. How are we holding up?”
“Super great,” Lily answers, the sarcasm in her voice as obvious as the appreciation in her eyes. Even though I’ll never look at Rye like that , I have to admit he’s extra-handsome tonight in a black button-down and slacks that actually fit his giant shoulders and mile-long legs.
When he finally drags his gaze away from Lily, who looks absolutely stunning in a silvery minidress, I ask, “Did you see him?”
My friends exchange a loaded glance that makes me want to knock their heads together. Then Rye shakes his head. “I might have missed him, though. It’s crowded out there.”
There is a massive tent in the backyard of the opulent mansion we’ve been sequestered in since our sound check an hour ago.
When our new manager reached out with the invitation for a private showcase, she definitely downplayed the event’s magnitude. Instead of the intimate setting we imagined, there are at least a hundred people milling outside beneath string lights and space heaters. And not one of them looks like anyone we’d see at our usual shows. Instead of jeans and T-shirts, it’s cocktail dresses, suits, and champagne flutes.
I’ve already talked Lily out of hyperventilating twice. My own pre-show jitters are muted, smothered by a different worry. All I can think about is Wilder, who said he’d come early to see me before the show.
I check my phone for the hundredth time, but there are no new messages after the one I sent him before we came inside.
Text me when you get here and I’ll send Rye to find you. Xo
While the downstairs suite offered for our use looks like it belongs in a five-star hotel, the cell service is shit. I have no idea if he’s tried to call or text me back, and when I tried to sneak back outside, a harried woman wearing a headset all but shoved me back into our room.
“Did you try calling him?” asks Rye.
I bite my cheek so I don’t snap at him.
“No service,” Lily answers for me, “and no one we’ve asked knows the Wi-Fi password.”
Rye shifts his weight. “If you want, I can look again. Not sure if I can make it back before you go on, though.”
I shake my head and force a smile. “Don’t worry about it. I’d rather you hang here. I’m sure Wilder is out there somewhere.”
He promised.
I move to the nearest window and twitch aside the curtains, squinting through fading daylight at the tent. We’re too far away for me to make out faces, but I don’t see anyone with Wilder’s distinctive height. Not even a flash of Eddie’s neon-green hair, which would at least reassure me since the whole band is supposed to be here.
Trust him.
Closing my eyes tightly, I summon memories of the last two days, wrapping them around my heart like a shield. Wilder and I spent every spare minute together. Scattered between beautifully mundane activities like playing guitar, soaking in my hot tub, and his first charmingly disastrous attempt at making me dinner, we had frank conversations about what each of us needs to feel secure in our relationship.
While there were moments I could tell he was uncomfortable—namely when I told him I want to tell my parents about us—he didn’t have a single panic attack.
And the last two nights … even thinking about them sends currents of heat through my body. I thought sex with him had been incredible before, but having him stare into my eyes and whisper he loves me while he moves inside me? I’m forever altered by it. He’s always been a part of me, but now he’s in every breath I take and every beat of my heart.
The final memory I summon, possibly the most profound one, is falling asleep in his arms late last night, only to realize this morning that I’d forgotten to turn on the main nightlight in my bedroom.
He’ll be here.
After heaving a sigh that fogs the glass, I turn and drop onto the couch beside my purse, tossing my useless phone into its depths.
“I need to, uh, use the restroom,” Rye says, pivoting on his heel and heading into one of the adjacent bedrooms.
Lily sits next to me and hands me my giant bottle of water. I take it and fiddle with the cap as I stare sightlessly across the room.
“You good, Ev?”
Her nervous voice is a welcome gust of wind clearing my polluted thoughts. God, I’m such an asshole. I grab her bouncing knee, pressing down until it stills, and hold her gaze until the worry in her eyes shifts to relief.
“I’m good. All warmed up. You good?”
She nods. “I am now that your bossy-diva face is on.”
I smirk. “Ready to explode some brains?”
A smile teases her burgundy-painted lips. “Hope they have a good cleaning service.”
As my laughter fades, we hear voices in the hallway outside coming closer. Along with the confident tones of our new manager, Mallory Simmons, we recognize the rapid-fire speech of our equally new publicist, Anita Allman.
We make it to our feet right as the main door opens. Anita flies into the room first and beelines for us, her corkscrew blond curls bouncing around her head. Even though she’s barely five feet tall, objectively cherubic in appearance, and has been nothing but sweet so far, Lily and I agree she’s absolutely terrifying.
“Ladies!” she gushes, her hands fluttering around us. “Look at you two! Gorgeous, absolutely gorgeous. Aren’t they gorgeous, Mallory? I can’t wait to get you to my favorite stylist. He’s going to have the best time elevating your look.”
Feeling Lily tense beside me, I grab her hand and give it a reassuring squeeze. Anita doesn’t notice or doesn’t care about our discomfort, muttering to herself as she catalogues us from feet to hair like she’s taking notes on everything we need to change about ourselves. Which she probably is.
I have a new appreciation for why Wilder always hated meetings with our publicist, whose focus was invariably on him while Eddie, Jax, and I were left mostly unscathed.
“They’re gorgeous,” agrees Mallory in a genuine but much more subdued tone as she approaches us. “Now give them some space, will you? Your crazy energy is the last thing they need right now, and I’d like a minute with our clients.”
Anita giggles, unoffended, and spins around. She squeaks when she spots Rye reentering the room. “Hello, there! And you are?” She barrels toward him and grabs his arm. “Is that a full bar? Oh my. I could use a drink, handsome. How about you?”
Rye throws us a PleaseHelpMe look as she tugs him toward the bar, but before either of us can react, Mallory captures our attention. “He’ll survive,” she says with a knowing smile. “I know Anita is intense, but I wouldn’t have recommended her unless she was the best—and the best fit for your style. You’ll get used to her. How are you feeling? Nervous?”
“A little,” Lily says. “This isn’t our usual crowd, that’s for sure.”
Mallory’s dark eyes sparkle. “I know, but remember they’re here for you , not the other way around.”
“Who is they , exactly?” I ask. “We thought there’d be maybe a dozen people here.”
Mallory chuckles and shakes her head but not in a patronizing way. Whereas Anita is a shark wearing the skin of an angel, Mallory looks like a shark but has the personality of a mellow, level-headed big sister. She also has a two-decade-long track record of managing successful pop artists and was recommended personally by Breaking Giants’ manager, Phil, who’s like a crotchety uncle to me.
“This is all Anita’s doing,” Mallory says, glancing toward the bar where the publicist is laughing hysterically at something Rye said. From the expression on his face, he didn’t intend whatever it was to land as a joke.
“Not gonna lie, ladies,” continues Mallory, “there are a lot of recognizable faces out there. Pretty much everyone who’s anyone in the Seattle music industry is here, plus a handful of players from Los Angeles and New York. Producers, artists, journalists…” She trails off as she takes in our expressions.
“I’m gonna throw up,” whispers Lily.
Despite my own queasiness, I pull her into a hug. “We’ve got this. It doesn’t matter who they are. We’re going to give them the exact same Glow we’d give a bunch of college kids at a house party. Okay?”
She nods against my shoulder. Behind her, Mallory mouths, “Sorry,” right as Anita’s high-pitched voice fills the suite.
“Just got the text, my gorgeous girls! It’s showtime!”
I sigh into Lily’s ear and mutter, “Guess we should’ve asked her for the Wi-Fi.”
Like I hoped she would, she laughs.