Chapter 13
MADDY
THE PRESENT – MAY
“Who the hell is texting at this hour?” I groaned, pulling my pillow over my head, and ignored my cell phone vibrating on my nightstand.
But the second it stopped jumping around, it started again. And again.
There was only one person who’d text like that. A playful smile slid across my lips. Slip. Was he home from South America early? I tossed my pillow aside, rolled over, and grabbed my cell phone.
His text notifications covered the screen. Shit. I unlocked my cell phone and read his message:
SLIP: Babe, don’t freak out.
I was photographed with Harper yesterday.
it’s all over the net.
Press are pissing me off.
We were having lunch with Cole and Charlotte. I swear.
but paparazzi cut them out of the shots.
On the plane home. See you in LA.
miss you so freaking much.
love you.
There was nothing wrong with having lunch, but anything that involved Harper twisted my stomach. I opened Google and typed in Slip’s name, and my feed flooded with links to sites loaded with clickbait headlines.
Slip Caught Cheating On Madison Reed Two Months After They Wed
The Rockstar and the Nanny get Cozy Over Coffee
Is Slip’s Marriage Over?
Fuck! This was not what I needed to wake up to. He was on his way home for another break during the tour. I was hours away from getting on a plane to catch up with him in LA. I hadn’t seen him in a month. He knew I had trust issues with Harper; why was he even near her? I clicked on the first link to GossipOnline—Slip caught cheating...
Photos of Slip and Harper in a café filled the screen. Sitting opposite each other at a table by a window, in clear view of everyone, seemed innocent enough. But there was no sign of Cole or Charlotte, and there were multiple shots. In the first one, Slip and Harper were laughing. The next image was of Harper looking straight at Slip as she rested her chin in her hand and gazed at him. Ergh! But the picture of her feeding him a forkful of food prickled my skin. No...breathe. There was an explanation. Trust him...Or was I just setting myself up for more heartache and humiliation?
I skimmed through the other photos. Harper touching Slip’s hand. The two of them, smiling and talking. Then hugging each other before they left the shop.
I didn’t need to see anymore .
I closed the browser on my cell phone and called Slip...but it went straight to voicemail.
The guys were two months into the overseas leg of their tour. Taking out their official tour photographs and posts, the band was often in the news when they landed in a new city, snapped arriving and leaving their hotels, or for having drinks in some bar, or rocking up to venues for their shows. Slip knew anything to do with Harper would upset me. It was thoughtful of him to warn me. I didn’t want the scandal to ruin our few days together. But no doubt it would be a splinter in my side.
We had a party tonight, Mom’s physical therapy appointments tomorrow, and then a work function in the evening. Reporters would be all over us.
Not what I wanted. Not ever.
I flopped back on the pillow and glanced at the time. 5:07 a.m.
It was an hour earlier than I needed to be up, but I was awake. There was no chance of going back to sleep, so I hauled myself out of bed, showered, and packed.
I called Slip another couple of times, but his phone was still off. Damn flights.
At eight a.m., I was out the door, on a plane by nine-thirty, and on Slip’s doorstep by two. I let myself in with my security code. Slip was due there in an hour.
I dropped my cabin bag at the bottom of the staircase and walked into the huge kitchen with its natural dark timber cabinetry, marble-topped island, and black fixtures. Everything still smelled new after Slip had spent a small fortune gutting and renovating his entire house, turning it into a Balinese abode. It was a tropical paradise, tucked away high up in the hills of Hollywood. Everything was earthy and homey, from the lush indoor plants to the raw wooden bar stools, exposed ceiling beams, and handcrafted rustic, long dining table that overlooked the pool area. I’d never thought I liked this style of interior design, but I fell in love with this place the moment I walked through the door just over a year ago. It had been nothing but a stripped back, bare shell then. Kinda weird that this was...well...could be my home too.
I read the note on the corner of the kitchen counter:
Plants watered. Fridge stocked.
Enjoy your break.
Luv Mackenzie
I smiled. Slip’s housekeeper looked after all the guys’ homes, and did errands and odd jobs for them. Total angel. I grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and poured myself a large glass. After settling onto the massive black leather sofa, I checked my cell phone again. Slip had just landed. Butterflies dipped and dived in my stomach, just like they did every time we caught up.
But the photos of him with Harper kept filtering through my mind. I hated she was with him, and I wasn’t. My phone rang. It was Jodie, my publicist. I tapped the screen to answer it.
“Hey, Jodie. What’s up?”
“This shit with Slip and Harper is blowing up to be the size of the Hiroshima bomb. What do you want me to do? Say? Deny?”
I rubbed the tension thudding in my brow. “Nothing yet. He texted before his flight. He said they were with Cole and Charlotte.” Why hadn’t he been more careful? “He’ll be here soon. We’ve got a couple outings over the next few days. I’m sure we’ll be followed by photographers, and hopefully we’ll squash any of the bullshit rumors.”
“It’ll look like he’s rushed home for damage control.”
“Trust me, if I find out that it was more than just a friendly catchup there will be a lot of damage done. To him. Give me a couple more hours. I’ll talk to him, then I’ll get back to you.”
“Hilary isn’t happy with the negative publicity you’re causing for the show. You’re one of the major stars, caught up in this scandal. She doesn’t want it to impact the show’s ratings.”
Hilary, my show’s producer, had the entire cast on good behavior contracts. She was brilliant to work for as long as you didn’t put a foot out of line. I’d had a clean slate for four years...then I’d met Slip. At the root of not wanting a serious relationship was my deep fear he’d cheat, leave, and hurt me. But also, I was afraid I’d lose my job at every season renewal. Five cast members hadn’t been re-signed thanks to their drunken and disorderly behavior. Some had crashed cars under the influence of alcohol, while others had turned diva-ish, rocking up to work late, even missing full days of filming.
I’d raised a few concerns with the studio since I’d met Slip and had been issued a warning after we’d gotten married. With the gossip flying around us, I didn’t want to be next on the chopping block.
I just wanted to live a happy married life, with my husband, and avoid the headlines. But with him on tour, we attracted more and more attention. Every day I wanted to give Slip more of my heart and trust him.
I prayed the online stories weren’t true.
“Jodie, viewers won’t hate the show because of my relationship with Slip.” Any press is good press, right? Hopefully. “Hilary just wants our up-and-coming publicity tour and interviews to be about the new season and the clever storyline, not our personal lives. It will be fine. I’ll sort it out.” Maybe.
“Okay.” Fatigue drifted through Jodie’s level tone. “Slip needs to be more careful. He can’t do this crap while you’re apart.”
“No shit.”
“Innocent or not, that kiss is all over the news and not good publicity for anyone.”
A chill shot down my spine. Kiss? What the fuck? What kiss ?
With a shaky hand, I scanned more headlines on my phone. More photos had surfaced of Slip and Harper. Then I saw the picture of them kissing—a touch of her lips against his—beside a town car.
My heart lurched, cracking and splintering against my ribs.
No. No. No . I wasn’t going through this again.
“Shit.” Was he cheating? Lying?
“Call me once you’ve talked.” Jodie sighed. “I’m here if you need me. I hope he has a good explanation.”
“Me too.” Oh, he’d better. “Love you. Bye.” I dropped my cell phone on the sofa beside me.
The front door swung open.
Slip stepped through the entrance.
Timing.
With my head spinning, I stormed over and thrust my phone in his face. “What the fuck? You kissed her?”
“Mads.” He dumped his bags and held his arms wide. Desperation and exhaustion contorted his face as he closed his eyes. His shoulders slumped. “It’s not what it looks like. Trust me.”
“I’m trying very hard to do that, but you’re not making it easy.”
“Can I just kiss you and then I’ll explain everything?” He stepped forward, but I placed my hand flat against his chest.
“I’m not kissing you if you’re a lying, cheating prick.”
“I’m not.” He clutched at a handful of his hair. “Harper was joking around. She thought it would be funny and caught me off-guard. I was so pissed at her. Did you not see in the photo I tried to block her? That I pushed her away? They don’t print the photos of me yelling at her. Ask anyone. Ask Cole. Ask Beckett. They were there.”
Oh, I’d be having words with them, and tripling Beckett’s pay to ensure Harper stayed the fuck away from Slip. “Why should I believe you?”
“Because it’s the truth.” He slouched like it was an effort to stand upright.
Exasperation flared in my tone. “Why would you even go out with her?”
“It was her birthday.” His head dropped back. Clearly, he was over the whole ordeal. “Charlotte was running around the café, and Cole kept chasing after her. We took Harper out for cake and coffee before the long flight home. I didn’t think it would fucking backfire.”
“You should’ve known it would.” I folded my arms and crushed them against my belly as if that could protect my heart. “The media twists everything. I don’t know who or what to believe.”
“Mads, believe me. I’m not lying.” He took a small step toward me and drew my hand into his. He held it against his chest. “I don’t want to fight. I only have a few days here with you. It was honestly nothing. Please, trust me. How many times do I have to say that?”
“Actions speak louder than words.” I kept my voice level as I shot him a daggered glare. “Just...stay away from her.”
He nodded as he lowered his chin. “Mads, I do.”
I hated this situation. “I don’t want to be jealous or have doubts. But shit like this makes it really hard to trust you.”
“I know and I’m so fucking sorry.” His fatigue slammed into me. His red-rimmed eyes held no glint. His slumped posture wasn’t normal. My chest ached. Slip didn’t have to say anything. His body told the truth.
“This is so messed up.” My own shoulders sank two inches as I held out my other hand for him to take.
“Tell me about it.” He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around me. Holding me against his chest, he clung to me like a lifebuoy. “I miss you so much. I hate this never-ending gossip.” He circled his hands over my back, holding me tighter. “It never bothered me before when it was just about me and the guys and the shit we got up to. But now the most innocent of things can be twisted around, taken out of context, and hurt you. I want it to stop. I want to protect you from the crap that surrounds me.”
I linked my hands behind his back and rested my cheek against his shoulder. “I’ve caused my fair share of drama in my time. I’m sorry too. It’s just hard being apart.”
“Yeah.” He kissed the side of head. “But we’ll be together soon.”
“I’m counting down the days.”
He flattened his hands against my shoulder blades, then pressed them against my arms, and slid them onto my waist. “Mads, you okay? You’ve lost weight.”
“I’m fine. Just a bit stressed.” More like overly. I leaned back, meeting his worry-filled gaze. “And you?”
“I’m tired and aching. I didn’t sleep well on the plane, worrying about you and the shit Harper’s caused. I’m looking forward to a few days of rest and time together.” He snaked his fingers around the back of my neck and thread them into my hair. “Can I kiss you now? I’m in agony being here with you and not doing that.”
I slid my hands up and down his sides, his T-shirt sliding with my touch. “Yeah.”
I didn’t want to doubt him or be suspicious about every photo printed of him with another woman—even Harper. I didn’t know how to dial down the niggle that lived in the pit of my gut. But when he kissed me, stole my breath, and weakened my knees, my world realigned. When we were together, everything was alright.
“Where are Tia and Lewis?” I’d been so preoccupied with getting to the bottom of the gossip, I’d missed them not being with Slip.
“They’re staying at Cole’s place tonight. They’re babysitting the kids while Cole and Ava catch up.”
“Oh . . . so we have the house to ourselves?”
“Yes . . . yes, we do.”
That night, we went out to dinner with everyone to a new, funky rooftop restaurant and bar in Downtown that Sutton had raved about. I loved catching up with her, Ava, Tia, and the guys. Our stories always ended in fits of laughter. Just after ten, Duke—a friend of the guys—and his band joined us. The night turned into one of celebration as they’d signed with Everhide’s label and were about to record their first album in New York. Totally. Freaking. Awesome! With Everhide behind them, I was sure they’d top the charts.
But on the way home, Slip told our driver to take an unexpected turn. Down some backstreet in West Hollywood, we pulled up outside a strip of shops. Slip took my hand and helped me out of the car. Beckett was his constant shadow as I glanced around the quiet street with an old bar still open, a twenty-four-hour gym, and an accountant’s office on the opposite side of the road.
“What are we doing here?” I asked Slip.
A big, bright grin lit his face. “Come with me.”
He led me toward the last shop on the strip. My mouth fell open at the graphic sign on the window. Holy shit . A tattoo parlor!
Slip drew me to a halt outside the entrance and hooked his hands around my hips. “Mads, I wish I could stop the gossip, but most of it is out of my control. But know this...I will always tell you the truth behind each story. If I have to spend every day showing you how much I love you, how faithful and serious I am, I will. So today, I want to do that by getting your name inked on my skin. I want you to pick the design and where I should have it.”
“Oh, shit. Are you serious?”
“Yep.”
My heart thundered up toward my throat. He wanted me in ink? That was a whole new level of love I’d never expected. I didn’t think there was anything else he could do to erase my doubts, but he continually swept me off my feet. “You don’t have to do that. What if we don’t work out?”
“I’m not walking away from us.” He sliced his fingers into my hair and clutched the back of my head. “If we end, it will be your call, not mine. I’ll never regret your name on my skin. You changed my life, Mads, and gave me something more than music to love. I want to do this regardless of our future.”
Oh wow. I sucked in a huge breath, my chest swelling to capacity. I wriggled and curled my toes. “Nothing like more pressure.”
“There’s no pressure. It’s how I feel about you. Now come. Get me inked.”
My palms sweated as we entered the shop lined with framed photos of people covered in tattoos. There was a wall of designs to choose from, glass cabinets full of skin-care products, and two large chairs and a table surrounded by equipment at the back. The shop could be mistaken for a torture chamber instead of a tattoo parlor.
A tall, burly man stood from his laptop behind the counter. Covered from head to toe in colorful ink on every inch of visible skin, and with body piercings in his ears, nose, and eyebrow, he towered over Slip and me. As his gaze fell on Slip, a friendly smile spread across his face.
“Yo, Slip. Good to see you, man.” He walked over, clutched Slip’s hand, and bumped their shoulders together.
“Hey, Sol. Thanks for staying open late. I need some fresh ink. ”
I’d loved exploring and listening to the tales behind each one of Slip’s tattoos. His love for the ocean was in the form of a mermaid on his left bicep. His friends were depicted by stars and arrows on one forearm—just like Flint’s ink. Black bands and intricate designs circled his other wrist. A flock of birds crossed his sore hip, lyrics covered the other side of his waist, and guitars wrapped in vines graced his legs. I was overwhelmed that he wanted to add something that represented me to his collection.
He placed his hand on the small of my back. “But first, Sol, this is my wife, Maddy.”
Heat touched my cheeks. It was still hard some days to comprehend I was married.
“Madison Reed.” Sol took my hand and bowed like a gracious gentleman. “Nice to meet you. I’ve seen you on TV. Slip’s one lucky dude. You two are going to make gorgeous babies.”
I giggled and shook my head. “Uh...no. Not on our agenda.”
“Nah. You kids are still too young. Enjoy life—that’s what I say. Slip, I’m stoked you called. I’m always happy to see my VIPs at any time. So, what will it be? You got something in mind or need to browse?” Sol waved toward his computer on the counter and then over to the open folders full of tattoo designs on a table by the far wall.
“Mads has to choose it, but I want it to include her name.”
“Slip, I have no idea.” I wiped my clammy palms on the back of my dress. Such a gesture was overwhelming. But as long as I didn’t have to get one, I’d be okay.
Sol stroked his beard and chuckled. “This could take a while then. How about I grab us some beers while you look through the options?” He flicked a finger toward his desk. “You can draw anything you like on that tablet beside the laptop or I can sketch anything you may have in mind.”
“That’s cool.” I nodded. Anyone with artistic talent— drawing, painting, sculpting, music—won me over. I couldn’t even draw a stickman.
“Maddy, do you drink beer?” Sol asked. “Or something else, like a soda, whiskey or water? That’s all I’ve got.”
“Beer will be great, thanks.”
Sol disappeared into the office at the back of the store, while Slip and I flicked through some folders. I whispered to Slip, “You’re gonna have to help me out. Where do you want this tattoo?”
“Mads, anywhere.” He skimmed through pages of skull designs. “It can be anything. My only stipulation is no dicks, boobs, pussies or naked bodies. Our friends’ kids will no doubt see it, even if it’s on my ass. Ours will, too, if we ever change our minds about having a family of our own.”
I loved that he always thought about others.
I turned into him and crushed my breasts against his arm, then pressed my groin against his hip. The fire that flickered in his eyes warmed my blood. “So you don’t want me to take a photo of my pussy or tits and have them inked on your flesh?”
“Baby, the image of you naked from every angle is tattooed onto my brain. I don’t need that in ink. But you can send me more pictures to add to my private collection any time. I won’t complain.”
“Maybe I will.”
“God, I love you.” He kissed my cheek.
Over a beer, and laughs with Sol, we discussed designs. Slip and Sol made suggestions. Sol scribbled on his design pad. I flicked through folder after folder.
Why did this have to be so difficult?
I was about to hit the end of my fourth folder of artwork when the perfect image appeared. A sunflower. The night we’d met, I’d worn a yellow party dress covered in white outlines of sunflowers. Since that night, he’d called me sunflower . His girasole. I turned the folder to Slip. “What about this?”
“A sunflower?” He chuckled and nodded. “That’s perfect.”
“If you insist on including my name, it can go across the middle or underneath in a ribbon or something similar. Sol, is that possible?”
“Sure is. Subject to size. Where are we putting this?”
I scanned Slip from head to toe. “How about his right bicep?” One arm had the mermaid on it; the other was still blank. That spot would be cool.
“Done.” Slip stepped in and kissed me. He tucked my hair behind my shoulder. “Mmmm. Mio bel girasole .”
“Your beautiful sunflower?” Sol’s mouth quirked up at one side.
“Yep.” Slip’s eyes remained on me. “Mads is bright and cheery and loves yellow. She shines like the sun and makes me happy. Just like sunflowers.”
Sol placed his hand over his heart. “I love it when a tough man turns to marshmallow over his woman.”
A huge, unashamed grin slid across Slip’s face. “Shut the fuck up and ink me, Sol.”
“Gladly.” He walked over to the chair and patted the seat. “Sit here. Let’s get to it.”
As Sol got to work on Slip’s tattoo, I held Slip’s hand, playing with his wedding ring and the calluses on his fingertips. Despite his constant smile, I didn’t miss the ever-present tremble in his touch. Every now and then, his eyes would drift shut, a pained grin would curl across his gorgeous lips, and then he’d squeeze my hand tighter. So brave.
He was doing this for me. To prove that he was mine.
Total mind blow.
He didn’t have to go to this length...but I loved him for it. I couldn’t deny it helped ease some of my worries.
With every wrinkle of Slip’s nose, each whir of the tools, each dab Sol made against the fresh ink, my heart took on a strange beat. This was the craziest, most bizarre thing anyone had ever done for me. I was etched into Slip’s skin forever. There was something so sexy, so hot and surprisingly arousing by that. Heat meandered to my core, setting off a low thrum between my legs. Slip lying before me in the chair quickened my heartbeat.
“Um...” I swallowed harder than I’d expected. “So how long does this take?”
“Maybe about two hours.” Sol didn’t look up from inking Slip.
“Oh. That long?” Damn. I bit my lower lip and clenched my thighs together.
Easing the gun back, Sol laughed. Too much humor glinted in his eyes. “If you two need me to take a break, let me know. You wouldn’t be the first couple to get turned on by ink.”
“Sol. Leave. Now.” Slip yanked me forward with a rush. As I fell against his chest, he kissed me, hot and heavy.
Catching my breath, I dragged myself away from Slip’s lips. “Sol, it’s okay. Don’t leave. We’re fine. Totally.” Maybe... It took all my strength not to mount the chair, climb onto Slip’s lap, rip out his cock, and ride him in this big leather chair. I’d never thought watching someone getting a tattoo could be such a turn-on. Maybe it was just Slip.
“Speak for yourself.” Slip moaned as he adjusted his bulging crotch, then smiled as he rested his head back in the chair.
But when Sol repositioned his work lamp, the faint, dark circles beneath Slip’s eyes snagged my breath. He’d thinned down in the face. Clearly the tour was taking its toll on him, and the gossip and stresses around our marriage likely hadn’t helped.
I didn’t want to be a cause for any concern.
So why, when he was in the middle of getting inked, such a grand, irrevocable gesture of his love for me, did I still doubt our future together? What was holding me back?
What was I missing? Was it just time together?
Then my cell phone rang. I grabbed it out of my purse. The caller ID lit with Mom.
A chill shot through my veins. I answered with a quick swipe. “Hi. Is everything okay?”
“Oh, Maddy.” Mom panted like she’d run ten miles. “I can’t breathe. I’m burning up. Can you come home? Quick.”
My heart clambered to my throat as panic seized my lungs. “Mom? I’ll call the ambulance.”
“No. No. I want you. Please.”
“You’re scaring me.” My cell phone trembled in my hand. “You sound terrible. I’ll call the home doctor. Or Bridget.”
“No. Please. Don’t.” Every word was a raspy breath. “I’m okay. I just want you to help me.”
Me? “Um . . . I’m with Slip. Staying with him tonight.”
“Maddy. Please?”
“Mom, we’ll be about another hour or so. Can you put your oxygen on and take meds for the fever?”
“No. I need you.”
Shit. This wasn’t good. Bridget was officially on one of her days off. I shouldn’t trouble her when I was supposed to look after Mom when I was home.
Worry darkened Slip’s eyes. He mouthed, ‘ Everything okay?’
I shook my head and whispered, “No. Mom’s having a flare-up.”
He glanced at his arm. Sol was only half done. “Go.” He gave me a reassuring smile and clasped my hand. “I’ll come once Sol’s finished.”
“You sure?” I wanted to stay, but I had to leave.
“Yes.”
“Okay.” I grabbed my purse off the floor and gave him a quick kiss on the lips. “I love you. I’ll call a taxi.”
“No. Get Beckett to take you home. Then he can come back and get me.”
My house was only twenty minutes away, so that would work. “Thank you.”
I gave him another kiss, on the cheek this time, then dashed out the door.
Why did Mom call me when she knew I was with Slip? She’d always contact the doctor or Bridget when I was away working. Why not tonight? But my bones shriveled and wilted. I knew why. She was my responsibility.
Mom was getting worse.
Within a year or two, if she didn’t look after herself, she’d need permanent care. She already ate into so much of my time when I came home. I constantly worried about her declining health. What kind of life would Slip and I have if looking after my mother would eventually demand more hours in my day? If not all of them.
That dream we had to escape our everyday lives seemed to slip further and further away.
I’d always have to look after Mom.
I loved Slip. I never wanted my life to be a burden.
But was I selfish? Cruel?
BecauseI didn’t want to let him go.