19. Jace
JACE
I kissed her because I wanted to fucking kiss her.
And here’s the truth—I like kissing my wife.
I like the quiet sigh she lets out right before she gives in. I like the perfect way she fits against me. I like how she clings to me afterward as though she doesn’t want to let go. As though I anchor her somehow.
I don’t miss the shock on the guys’ faces afterward, but I’m not their mother, and they’re not mine.
I’m not gonna tell Cooper he shouldn’t get his dick sucked by random women when he has a girlfriend, so he can keep whatever thoughts he has about me and Rory to himself.
I know my bandmates don’t like her. They think she’s keeping me from partying with them, but like I told Rory, I’m tired of living like that.
It’s funny that she told Cooper and his groupie what’s what. I chuckle to myself when I think about the expressions on their faces when Rory snapped. Of course, she was guilt-ridden afterward because she’s a sweet girl.
Once Rory takes off, I duck into my bedroom and let Layla play on the floor while I tinker with some lyrics I’ve been mulling over since I saw Rory at last night’s show.
She says she ain’t a heartbreaker, but she’s got that secret smile
The one that keeps me up late, thinking this could be worthwhile
“Jace.” Frank knocks on the door and sticks his head in. “You doing okay? Where’s Rory?”
“Running errands.” Layla flings her toy, and I grab it and hand it back to her before I stretch out my legs next to her. Been on this floor too long because my ass is falling asleep.
“Shouldn’t she be watching the kid?” Apparently, Frank has some thoughts too.
“She’ll be back in time for sound check.” That vein is bulging in his forehead. “She’s not gonna be late. Relax.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because I do.” She’s the fucking town librarian. Responsibility is her middle name.
He gives me a wary look. “If you’re sure.”
When he doesn’t leave, I set down my notebook. “Is there something else you needed?”
“Two things. One, I need you to review these expenses.” He drops a folder in my lap before he blows out a breath. “And two, you’re opening for Marlowe tonight. I wanted to give you a heads-up.”
Shit. “Okay.”
“Sorry, Jace. I got the schedule change this morning. You killed it last night, so the label wanted you on the larger stage.”
I guess that’s good. “Thanks for letting me know.” When he just stares at me, I sigh. “I promise I won’t spiral, okay? I’m over all that.”
He taps the doorframe. “Bandit wants the bands to hang out so everyone can cross-promote. We’ll do it after your VIP fan meet-and-greet.”
“Fine.” This should be fun.
I pick up Layla and bounce her on my thighs. It helps having her here. My daughter’s a reminder of everything that’s on the line right now. I can’t afford to lose my shit or go on a bender or be an idiot.
After all that happened, I promised myself I’d never be that vulnerable with a woman again, and my sex cleanse has cemented that resolve.
Despite how much I trust Rory, around four thirty, I start glancing at my phone every few minutes because Frank’s made me paranoid.
“Where is she?” he asks for the tenth time.
“She’s on her way.”
Five minutes later, when I spot her, I let out a sigh of relief. I hand the baby to Frank, who sputters, and head outside.
The late afternoon sun hits her as she jogs toward the bus, shopping bags swinging, the distant music from sound check filtering across the fairgrounds.
“Fun day shopping, wife?” I ask when I meet her at the bottom of the stairs.
She laughs. “Yes, surprisingly.”
When I see her face, I do a double take. “Damn, girl, you clean up good.”
Her grin widens. “I had a makeover.” I brace my hands on her shoulders to look her over more carefully. “Um, Jace? What are you doing?”
“Appreciating how beautiful you are. Duh.”
She snorts and turns a pretty shade of pink. “Come on. You’re going to be late.”
I take all the packages from her and lean down to whisper, “Not that you needed a makeover, but you look great.”
Her eyes are sparkly and her lashes are darker. She’s wearing lipstick I’d like to lick off her. And she smells really fucking good.
Damn. I’m doing that thing I swore I wouldn’t do. I’m hitting on my nanny.
Again.
Rhett would have my ass right now. Except he can’t criticize me ’cause he married Paige so he could get a loan. And then they fell in love, so it worked out in the end.
But I can’t say the same about me and Rory. Because we want different things in life.
I’m still thinking about whatever’s happening with me and Rory when I get to the pavilion, but my attention snags on the star of the festival, Garrett Gamble.
I don’t expect him to notice me ’cause I’m nobody and he’s a legend, but as I walk by, he smiles and holds out his hand.
“Glad y’all could join me on tour, Jace. ”
Hell, he knows my name. Rhett’s gonna lose it when I tell him. “Thanks, Garrett. Appreciate the opportunity.” I shake his hand, and a second later, he’s gone, rushed off by his people.
I stand there, a little starstruck, but at the same time feeling tugged in different directions.
At the end of the summer, I’m hopefully getting a record deal.
I don’t know where that’s gonna take me.
New York? Los Angeles? Maybe we’ll get offered another tour or head to Nashville or Austin to record.
The problem is I don’t know.
Rory wants another librarian job. Since she can’t get that in Wild Heart, is she gonna move?
My head starts to hurt. This is why I hate thinking about the future. Because there are no certainties in life. All I know is I want to be the next Garrett Gamble, and that won’t happen in Wild Heart.
Rory is the kind of woman who wants commitment, and even though I’m over casual relationships, I wouldn’t say I’m ready to take the plunge into anything serious.
Yeah, I know it’s ridiculous that I’m talking about my wife right now.
But I can’t offer Rory anything beyond this summer. Would she want that? Would it offend her if I suggested it? Would it affect whether or not she’ll take care of Layla?
I rub my throbbing temple. This is why you don’t mix business with pleasure, and during sound check, I get a good reminder of that.
Across the stage, I spot her, a ghost from the past.
Marlowe’s red hair blows in the breeze as she laughs with some guy.
I feel… nothing. Not anger or hatred. Not sadness or regret.
There’s just a void of space in my chest, a good reminder I should never get that invested in a woman again.