16. Rory
RORY
We get to the fairgrounds early. Jace’s bandmates want to roam, and Frank gives everyone a check-in time.
I’m standing in the lounge with Layla, who’s busy playing with her feet in her stroller, when an older woman boards the bus. I’m about to ask if she’s lost when Frank hugs her.
“Who’s that?” I whisper to Jace, who’s sitting on the couch.
“His wife, Susan. She helps us sell merch sometimes if she’s not teaching. She substitutes.”
She’s slender with blondish-gray shoulder-length hair and a tote bag slung on one arm. She reminds me of a younger Helen Mirren.
When Frank brings her over, Jace sets down his guitar and jumps up to hug her. “So glad you could help us, Suze. Thanks for coming.”
She grins. “Your festival gave me a reason to visit some family.”
“Excellent.” He grabs my hand. “Susan, this is my wife, Rory, and that little squirt in the stroller is my daughter, Layla.”
After she coos at the baby, she gives me a warm smile and hugs me. “When Frank told me Jace got married, I nearly fell out of my chair.”
I don’t know how much of the truth Frank told her, so I go with something safe. “It’s been a whirlwind.”
When she steps back, she nods at Jace. “It’s about time you found a nice girl to ground you.”
I can’t help but notice the yarn sticking out of her bag. “Do you crochet?”
She pats her tote. “Yes, but I love to knit, which is what I do if there’s a long stretch between customers at the merch table.”
Frank gives her a warm look. “My Suzy can make anything.”
Gosh, they’re cute together.
Before she leaves, she squeezes my hand. “I know that taking care of a baby is a lot of work. I’m only here for the festival and I’ll meet up again with the tour in Texas, but if you need anything while I’m around, just say the word.”
“Thank you. I really appreciate it.”
When the bus doors close behind her, I turn to Frank. “I love your wife.”
He looks down, affection in his eyes as he nods. “She’s pretty great.” But an alarm on his phone buzzes, and he’s back in manager mode. He reaches into a cabinet and pulls out a box, which he hands to me. “For the kid.”
I open it to find some noise-canceling headphones. “This is perfect.”
“Jace said if you wanted to come to the concert tonight, you could bring the baby as long as she wears these.”
Jace smiles at me from across the lounge where he’s once again strumming his guitar. “Up to you. Whatever you’re comfortable with.”
Frank frowns. “Jace, we need her to get footage for your social media.”
Before they get in an argument, I hold up my hand. “I can go. I’ll wear Layla in a sling so I can use my hands. But is it okay if I duck out before it’s over? Crowds give me hives.”
Jace chuckles but Frank just looks confused, shakes his head, and walks off the bus.
“Why do I feel like I just told him the Rolling Stones suck? I mean, I’d never say that. They’re amazing. But he looks like I just disparaged an icon.”
“Which of their songs is your favorite?”
I nibble my bottom lip. “I’d say ‘Give Me Shelter’ or ‘Paint It Black,’ but that seems too obvious, so I’ll go with ‘Dead Flowers.’ There’s something poetic about telling your ex to send you dead flowers and that you’ll remember to put dead flowers on her grave.
Of course, the Stones might’ve been talking about heroin, so I don’t know.
But that album also has ‘Wild Horses,’ which is a classic. ”
His always-present grin widens as he starts to play “Dead Flowers.”
Then he opens his mouth to sing.
And I am straight-up gobsmacked by his voice.
I sit down before I fall over. The man plays the entire song and sings it to perfection, doing variations on the melody that make it fresh and give it a unique feel.
When he’s done, I press my hand to my chest. “Shut up. You never said you were that good.”
His cheeks turn ruddy. “The Stones are one of my favorite bands.”
I let out a sigh, hating that he has great taste in music. “I’m not going to treat you any differently just because you’re apparently an amazing musician.”
His eyes twinkle as he levels that crooked grin at me. “Wouldn’t expect you to.”
He moves on to other songs, pausing to jot down notes in a spiral notebook while I attempt to calm my racing heart.
Because Jace is a much better singer than Hayden.
I’m starting to get worried. My ex was a bad weather advisory, but Jace Walker? He’s a category-five storm.
Once I get Layla secured in the forward-facing baby carrier on my chest, I grab her headphones, my purse, and my pass. The fairground is huge, and I’m worried I waited too long to head to the stage, but anxiety got the best of me and I had to give myself a pep talk.
The guys take the stage at eight, just before the sun sets. I have half an hour to get there.
As I nearly trip down the stairs—thank God for handrails—one of the security guards holds out his hand. “Whoa, there. Take it slow.”
I laugh awkwardly, grateful I didn’t have to flip onto my back midair to protect Layla. “Any idea where the red pavilion is? I have the map, but I’m turned around.”
He gives me a patient smile and points toward the smaller stage. “If you head around the back, you’ll get in faster.”
“Thank you.” I glance at his name badge. “Appreciate your help, Edmond.”
“Not a problem, ma’am.”
I truck across a parking lot, sweating in the humid Daytona air, and pray for the strength to get through tonight. By the time I reach the right pavilion, I realize I should have carried Layla in her stroller and then put her in the wrap.
Guess I’m getting my workout in, but now I’m sweaty and sticky and more than a little cranky.
I’m wearing one of my long flowing dresses while all the girls I pass wear bikini tops and cutoffs.
I don’t usually like to show a lot of skin, but I have to admit this humidity has me reconsidering my clothes.
Maybe I can do some shopping tomorrow before the next show.
Because I don’t know if I can handle another evening like this.
Plus, I should probably up my game if I’m going to meet this Marlowe person. I whip out my phone and text Baylee.
Me: What do I wear if I want to look attractive?
I hope she doesn’t think I’m doing this to hit on Jace. I quickly text a follow-up message.
Me: I’m meeting some woman from Jace’s past, and…
How do I explain this?
Me: And I need to play the part of doting wife. I’d like to not embarrass myself.
Baylee: Someone from his past, huh? I’m dying of curiosity over here.
Me: I am a vault. I’m sorry, but I can’t tell you anything else.
Anxious, I twist my wedding band as I wait for my friend’s reply.
Baylee: I respect that. So let’s talk outfits. For the record, you’re already attractive, but we can definitely amplify your assets. Let’s get Honey in on this convo because she’s more stylish than I am.
As Layla and I wait to get into the venue through the VIP line in the back, we get Honey caught up on what I’m trying to do.
Honey: There’s a great shop in Daytona my friend owns. I’ll give her a heads-up you might stop in tomorrow. You’ll love her stuff. It’s very whimsical.
Is that what I’m going for? Whimsical? But it’s not like I have a lot of options.
Once security waves me in, I debate where I should go—in the front with fans or backstage? I peek at the crowd, and it’s packed. Nausea swirls in my stomach as I consider wading into all of those people.
The band before Jace’s finishes, and they’re breaking down their set.
I suppose I have a few minutes to find Wayward Sons and wish the guys luck.
So I head backstage, and it’s a maze of equipment and roadies, who are rushing around, talking into headphones, and looking like they’re candidates for heatstroke.
I get a faceful of weed smoke blown at me, at which point I run to find some fresh air for the baby.
“Sorry, Layla.” I brush her little head with my palm. She seems fine.
I finally spot the guys behind a stack of amps. As I wait for them to wrap up, I study their logo on the back of their manager’s t-shirt. In the center is a star, maybe a compass, and the band’s name curves around it. It has a vintage feel.
“You got this,” Frank says to the guys. “You deserve this moment. Enjoy it.”
Aww, he’s such a nice man.
Jace hugs him as his bandmates gear up for their set. When Jace sees me, I freeze, second-guessing whether I should’ve come backstage.
He’s wearing that crooked smile, and his eyes are so bright they look lit from within, like sea glass shimmering in the sun.
I wave awkwardly, and he stalks toward me. Dang it, he looks hot in jeans, cowboy boots, and a faded blue t-shirt that molds to all of his muscles. Don’t get me started about that guitar strapped to his back. He oozes sex appeal and charisma, like he was born for this.
Stop thinking about him as being sexy!
“Rory.” He pulls me into a hug before he leans down to kiss Layla on the forehead. “I’m so glad you could make it.”
He says that like I wasn’t brought along for this very purpose. But it’s sweet. Like he doesn’t want to push me beyond whatever I’m comfortable doing.
Leaning against him, I sniff his cologne. Why does he always have to smell so good?
I clear my throat. “Hope you have a great show. Layla and I will be out front to get some footage.”
“Thanks, babe.”
Babe? He’s probably just playing the part, so there’s no reason my heart should race right now. “So… afterward, I’ll see you back at the bus?”
“Sounds good. Might be a while, though. We have a VIP meet-and-greet signing thing we do for fans afterward. Will you be okay with Layla?”
“Yes. I’ll get her cleaned up, fed, and tucked in bed.” It’ll be late for her, but Jace and I already discussed this. We’ll have to make accommodations. Yes, he’d prefer she maintain a sleep schedule, but some things can’t be helped while we’re on tour.
“You’re awesome. Thank you.” He gives me a half hug before he jogs toward the stage.
I don’t watch him the entire way.
Fine, I do. But I’m only human.
I spot Frank standing a few feet away, jotting notes on a clipboard. He gives me a friendly smile. “You’ve really never heard them play?” he asks.
“No. I mean, just what Jace played for me earlier today on the bus.”
“You’re in for a treat. Come on. I’ll get you situated out front.”
“Thanks.” I’m less anxious now that I have our manager to help me figure out where to go.
“Your pass lets you go wherever you want in this pavilion, but I’d probably stay in the front or just back down that center aisle. See where that security guard station is? That’s also a good spot. Plus, he has a walkie-talkie, so if anything crazy happens, that’s the guy to look for.”
“Crazy, like what?”
He shrugs as he glances at the crowd. “Fights, brawls, crowd surges—you know, people acting stupid. It happens. I don’t think you’ll have any trouble tonight ’cause the guys are on early, but if they ever play late, you’ll want to keep an eye out because people get drunk and do dumb shit.”
I salute him. “I’ll watch out.”
He chuckles. “And enjoy yourself. You’re getting a front-row seat to a band on the rise.”
I don’t know why, but that dims my excitement. I mean, of course I want Jace and his friends to achieve their dreams. But does that mean he’ll move to some big city after the tour to do the country star thing?
Deep down, I know I’d be a fool to get attached to Jace.
I sit with that thought a moment and recalibrate myself.
Because in four months, we’re filing for divorce. I’m his nanny and social media assistant. Nothing more.
When the guys emerge on stage, I’m not sure what I expect, but I’m nervous for them.
This is a huge venue. I know they’ve played a million bars, but nothing like this festival.
There are three pavilions, dozens of food trucks surrounding the fairgrounds, and probably ten thousand people milling around.
But their easygoing smiles make it seem like they’re old pros. Along the back of the stage, their logo with that compass appears on an LED backdrop.
I grab Layla’s feet in front of me. “I hope your daddy kills it tonight.” She kicks her little legs like she agrees. I pull out her headphones and get them situated on her head. I’m worried she’s going to hate them, but she doesn’t fuss, thank goodness.
When Jace grabs the mic, the girls in the front scream, and he grins. “Hey, beautiful people. We’re Wayward Sons, and we’re stoked to hang out with y’all tonight. Gonna kick things off with a song you might know called ‘Dead Flowers.’”
My mouth drops open as his grin widens. Then he winks, and the girls next to me swear he’s winking at them.
But I kinda think it was for me.
Whatever magic he had this afternoon when he was singing in the bus doesn’t compare with his energy on stage. The band is on point. The lighthearted melody and quick rhythm offset the darker lyrics, but Jace steals the show with his captivating performance.
I get what he meant when he said they were a little country and a little rock.
At times, the music hits harder than I’d imagine coming from a country band, but it’s offset by Jace’s charming drawl and his band’s powerful harmonies.
Between his sexy rasp and confident swagger, Jace owns the stage within minutes.
Song after song, he pours his heart and soul into the mic, and the audience eats it up. I take several videos throughout their concert. I’m not sure what I’m looking for, but I’ll edit it later. Baylee said she’d help me if I got stuck.
I’m drenched in sweat by the time the set is done and light-headed. I should leave before the crowd starts to move around, but I can’t bring myself to go until I’m absolutely sure they’re not doing another song.
Jace grins at the crowd and purrs, “Daytona Beach, you’re every bit as beautiful as I thought you’d be.”
My smile freezes when I realize he’s likely not talking about the city. He’s probably eyeballing the gorgeous models who are bouncing around in itty-bitty bikinis in the front row.
Jesus, am I jealous right now? About my fake husband? I rub my temple, annoyed with myself.
This is why you don’t marry musicians. Because there’s no shortage of temptation on the road.
The truth is, he’ll never be my man. He’s my boss. He can flirt with the girls if he wants to as long as he doesn’t embarrass me outright. That was our agreement.
I blow out a breath, bracing myself for the next four months.