Epilogue
JOEL - TWO MONTHS LATER
Two months on the road, and I swear to God, I’m more in love with this woman than ever.
Which is annoying.
Because I was already at the maximum legally allowed amount of in love, and now she’s just out here being all hot and brilliant and making me question everything I thought I knew about limits.
Honestly, I figured there was some kind of cap on it—like, there has to be limit before my heart just gives the fuck out. Right?
But no. Apparently, loving Anna is like a never-ending encore—just when I think I’ve hit the peak, another wave of holy shit, she’s everything knocks me sideways.
Funny thing—I don’t think she has any idea.
She doesn’t see how every little thing she does wrecks me. Like the way she scrunches her nose when she’s focused. The way she teases me like it’s her life’s mission to humble me. The way she pulls me into her space like she forgot she’s been keeping me at arm’s length for years.
She’s been with me the whole tour and it feels fucking amazing.
Every night, I step onto a new stage, hear a new crowd screaming my name, and feel that rush of energy vibrating through my bones.
It’s what I live for.
But nothing—and I mean nothing—compares to waking up next to Anna every morning.
She’s in every piece of my life now. My hotel room, my dressing room, my damn guitar cases because she’s always leaving her stuff in them. (”It was just one time,” she argued. No, it wasn’t.)
I love it. I love her.
And the scariest part?
It feels easy.
Like this was always meant to be our life.
And the more I watch her, the more I see it—the music still lives inside her.
I see it in the way her fingers drum against her thigh during soundcheck, like she’s itching to pick up a guitar or settle onto the piano bench. In the way she hums under her breath when she thinks I’m not paying attention.
But she’s always been music.
She might think she’s all code and logic now, but that’s not her. At least, not all of her. Not the full, complete picture.
I remember what it felt like to watch her play all those years ago—to see her lose herself in the sound, in the moment. She lit up on stage, and now?
Now, she pretends she’s fine staying in the shadows. That she’s just here to support me.
Bullshit.
She was made for this. And I want to watch her step back into the light more than I want my next fucking breath.
Still, she won’t sing.
But I’m so close to getting her to.
Right now, though, she’s tucked against my side in our hotel room in the middle of Paris while we FaceTime with her Dirty B’s for her weekly bookclub meeting.
I gotta admit, it’s fun. It’s just us, drinks in hand, talking shit and books with our people.
Our people. When did that happen?
Because, wow, they really are.
It should be illegal to be this comfortable. This domesticated. But it’s also so, so good.
Three months ago, no one would have been able to convince me this would be my life.
Honestly? If someone had told me back in LA that I’d be here—on a European tour, waking up next to Anna every morning, watching her steal my hoodies like they belong to her now (they do), falling asleep to the weight of her tucked against me—I would’ve laughed them out of the room.
Because this? This was the impossible dream.
Not the tour. Not the music. Not the crowds screaming my name.
Her.
Anna Chang, in my bed. In my life. Choosing me every damn day.
And fuck, I want to keep her here forever.
She fits into my world so seamlessly, like she was always meant to be in it. She rolls her eyes when I get mobbed by fans but then grips my hand tighter. She steals my fries like she’s entitled to them by law.
And the way she looks at me when I play? Like she feels it in her chest, like she gets it.
I know it’s only a matter of time before she’s up there with me.
And holy shit, I can’t wait for that moment.
“So, Anna,” Vivian drawls over the phone, smirking. “Are you excited to be in Paris? I mean, I heard Joel was invited to more shows at Nocté, but what’s that compared to Paris?”
Lily hums, too casual to be innocent. “Yeah, but turns out they didn’t need it.”
Anna slowly turns her head to look at me, then back to the screen, suspicion rising.
“…Wait. What?”
And then, I get it. Before Anna. And it’s beautiful.
Joel Price, notorious chaos gremlin, lover of one-upmanship, professional menace, is fucking faster on the uptake for once.
I shove up from the bed, nearly knocking over my beer. “Oh, my God. You meddled.”
Lily has the audacity to look unbothered. “Meddled is such a strong word.”
Anna’s still processing. “Hold on. You’re telling me you convinced London to ask Joel to stay? He said it was the owner or something.”
Lily grins, smug as hell. “Does it matter?”
“Yes, it matters,” Anna says.
I throw my hands up, unable to contain my absolute delight at being proven right. “This means it was fate. One way or another, we were bound to be together.”
Anna groans, covering her face with both hands. “Oh my God. You are so ridiculous.”
Quinn sips his drink with a sage nod. “Divine intervention.”
I point aggressively at the screen. “I adore your friends.”
“You are the absolute worst,” Anna claps back, reaching for her old fashioned—a new favorite.
I spin to Anna, grinning so hard my face hurts. “Say it.”
She narrows her eyes. “Say what?”
“That you believe now. That fate, Joel Price, and my raw, unmatched sexual magnetism made this happen. We were always destined, my little feather plum.”
Anna throws a pillow at my face.
I catch it. Like a goddamn rockstar.
Anna stares at me like she’s debating whether she should kiss me or kill me. Probably both.
Lily snorts. “Honestly? He’s got a point. I think there was definitely a dash of fate in there.”
Quinn sighs dramatically. “I love that he has a point. And I’ll voice for the sexual magnetism, too.”
“Thanks, Quinn,” I beam back.
He blows me a kiss.
Carlie, with an evil grin on her face steeples her finger under her chin and says, “God, I could so write this. Rockstar romance—brother’s best friend. Fated to come back together. I mean, it has all the right tropes.”
Anna glares. “Carlie. No.”
Carlie’s already typing into her phone. “Too late. It’s plot bunnying.”
“Christ.” Anna pinches the bridge of her nose.
Vivian hums. “I mean, technically, we made fate happen. We meddled.”
“Hey,” Lily gasps, pointing at herself.
Quinn gasps. “Wait. Are we the main characters, then?”
“I mean, at some point, right?” Vivian’s right shoulder shrugs.
Anna groans, shoving at my chest. “See what you’ve done?”
I grin. “What I’ve done is win.”
And speaking of winning…
I clear my throat and lean in, serious as hell. “Since I officially survived two months of book club exposure—”
Anna snorts into her drink. “Barely.”
“—and have now read more romance novels than any one man should—”
Carlie perks up. “Oh, are you admitting you loved them?”
I point aggressively. “That’s not the point.”
Quinn grins. “That’s a total yes.”
I ignore him. For now.
I sit up straighter, adjusting my nonexistent tie. “As I was saying… it’s finally time.”
Anna frowns, the crease between her eyebrows the most adorable thing ever. “Time for what?”
I flash my most dangerous grin. “The Dirty Bastards book club.”
Vivian claps like a school girl. “Oh my God, it’s happening?”
Quinn chokes on his drink. “Yessss, finally! I didn’t want to ask. I knew you were so busy with the tour.”
I nod. “Well, it’s happening. Be ready, Quinn. The first official Dirty Bastards meeting is going down as soon as we’re back. Notify the boys.”
Silence.
Then—
Quinn slowly leans in toward the camera, expression blank. “Oh, it’s on. Welcome to the war, ladies. The Gents have entered the chat.”
I squint. “What? No. I want a book club.”
Quinn doesn’t blink. “You want a war.”
Anna hums, shaking her head knowingly. “Just roll with it.”
I cross my arms. “You don’t even know what we’re reading.”
Quinn presses his fingertips to his chest, smiling like the fucking diva he is. “Oh, it doesn’t matter what we’ll be reading, Price. As long as we have tournaments. What do we judge? Hottest annotations?”
Anna gasps, delighted. Then, she turns to me, her eyes turning absolutely devilish. “Oh, my God, yes.”
Why does that look like I’m doomed?
“What—” I spit out.
Quinn holds up a fistful of pink glitter gel pens. “I’ve been waiting for this moment my entire life.”
Carlie, practically vibrating with excitement. “Oh, I’m coming to that meeting.”
Tasia nods. “Same.”
Lily grins. “Oh, I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
I blink. “Wait. Why are the Dirty Bitches are coming?”
Anna pats my thigh. “Because we all want to watch you suffer.”
I gape at her. “Babe.”
She just shrugs, smirking. “I go where the power is.”
Quinn winks. “And the power is mine now.”
And that’s when I realize.
I may have made a mistake.
Anna giggles and tackles me onto the bed.
The last thing the OG Dirty B’s see before the call cuts is me cackling while Anna puts me in a headlock—then makes me pay in all the best ways.
* * *
Two days later, we’re at the venue, and I’m feeling extra reckless.
I have been trying to get Anna on stage for weeks.
I have literally tried everything.
Bribery. Teasing. Sexual favors. (Those were my favorite, by the way.)
Nothing has worked, though, and we’re running out of time.
Seriously, I’ve pulled every trick in the book.
I tried the old “just test the mic for me, Ace.” She walked away.
I suggested a “casual backstage duet.” She laughed in my face.
I even hit her with the “but what if the band gets food poisoning, Ace? What then?” She told me to learn piano.
But tonight?
Tonight I have one last move.
One last shot to get her on this stage.
And I’m about to play dirty.
This is the Hail Mary of “get my girlfriend to stop cowarding out of her own fucking talent.”
And yeah, I said cowarding out. I love this woman, but she’s a damn stubborn menace.
I tighten the tuning peg on my guitar, casting a glance at the side-stage. Anna’s there, arms crossed, watching me. She thinks I don’t notice, but I do. I always do.
And the best part?
I see it.
The want.
The almost.
She’s so damn close.
I step up to the mic. The crowd is electric tonight, the buzz in the air thick enough to feel in my veins.
She’s gonna kill me, but here goes.
“This next song,” I say, voice rough from hours of singing, “means a lot to me. It’s the song that changed everything. It’s been a while since I sang it, though. And—” I pause, my lips twitching as I find Anna side-stage. Arms crossed. Brow raised. Fully aware of exactly where this is going.
She shakes her head. Don’t you dare.
Oh, I dare.
“And tonight, I wanna sing it the way it was always meant to be sung.”
The crowd erupts, some already anticipating what’s coming. It’s been a long time and they’ve been changing for it.
Anna’s eyes narrow like she’s about to lunge for me, but I hold out my hand, challenging her.
“Come sing it with me, Ace—because yes, I see you. I’ve always seen you.”
It’s her song. Her question to a stupid teenage boy who was too scared to answer her back.
She wrote it when she thought I didn’t see her. When she thought I never would.
Her lips part. She blinks.
Before she can overthink it, before she can take it back—Anna steps onto the stage. She’s stepping into the spotlight she was always meant to have, and I get to stand beside her this time.
And holy shit, I’ve never seen anything more beautiful in my life.
The crowd’s screaming is deafening, but all I can hear is the thunder in my chest.
She takes a slow step forward, then another.
Oh, fuck me, she’s really doing it.
I actually forget how to breathe.
I definitely forget how to hold my guitar.
The entire stadium could explode, and I wouldn’t notice.
Because all I see is her.
Walking toward me.
Joining me.
And my heart?
Absolutely fucking gone.
And I swear to God, time fucking stops.
Every nerve in my body electrocutes.
She’s coming to me.
She’s doing this.
That’s my girl.
My fingers tighten on my guitar. I have performed in stadiums, I have faced down angry producers, I have survived the Dirty Bitches, but nothing—nothing—has ever terrified me more than the idea of fucking this moment up for her.
When she reaches me, her eyes sparkle with emotion, but she shakes her head. “God, you’re so dramatic.”
“And you wouldn’t have it any other way.” I grin back.
And when she takes my hand, when she turns toward me, when she gives me that look—
It feels like fate all over again.
The End.