23. Rory
RORY
With a howl, Layla kicks and laughs. I duck by the side of the bed and pop up again. “Rawr.”
“Mamamama!”
I plop down next to her and grab her small hand. “I wish I was your mama. When you get older, we’d have tea parties and ride ponies and have picnics.”
I’ve been on this tour for two seconds, and I already know that if Jace doesn’t break my heart by the end, Layla will do the honors. Because this little girl has me wrapped around her finger.
I stand her up and hold her by both hands so she can bounce. “Let’s count to ten.” On the last bounce, I gently topple her onto the bed, and she giggles. “You have to count, Layla. This is too much work for me. Ready? One.” I wait for her to join me.
“Wa, tuuu, teee, ohhhh…”
“Good job! You’re so smart. Can you do that again? I want to get it on video for your dad.” I flip on the camera and start counting. She’s so freaking cute.
After I send it to Jace, who headed off this afternoon to meet up with a merch guy, I realize it’s getting late. “Let’s get you dressed for that dinner.”
I ignore the familiar wave of anxiousness that erupts in my stomach every day when I have to disembark the bus.
The shows are getting easier because no one pays attention to me in the crowd.
It’s when I have to interact and be social that I wish I was more extroverted.
Sometimes I feel like a houseplant that accidentally got set out in the middle of a rave.
Jace has been really busy today dealing with merch and pricing new stuff, which is good because I feel bad about last night. He wasn’t doing anything wrong, but I was jealous about groupies sitting too close to my fake husband.
I should definitely invest in some therapy when I get home.
I’m hoping I can avoid him until I can regain some equilibrium.
I’d love nothing more than to hole up in this bedroom until this tour is over, but I made a promise to Frank.
Even though he seemed dismissive when I first met him, since the tour started, he’s always happy to see me, and I appreciate how hard he works and how much he loves this band.
After I get the baby dolled up in a cute dress because I need to do her laundry, I debate what to wear, finally opting for a tank top and jeans. I also go with contacts because they’re easier when I’m hauling Layla around. The humidity makes my glasses slide down my nose.
And since Frank seemed to think the dinner was a big deal, I grab my new makeup and spend a little time on my eyes and lips. But when I’m done, I realize how plain my outfit looks, so I change into a sheer flowy shirt that I slide over my black bikini top.
Because nothing says dressed up like a spandex swimsuit, right? But the dark colors seem to work, and I don’t have time to debate my outfit any longer. I toss on my jewelry and head out.
Edmond helps me get Layla and her stroller down the stairs. “Thanks.” I squint at the directions on my phone. “I think the restaurant the guys are going to is that way.” I point and he frowns.
“Jace will have my ass if you end up on the wrong side of town.” He turns me so I’m facing the opposite direction. “See those industrial buildings? That’s where you want to go.”
“I get so turned around sometimes.”
“That’s what I’m here for.”
“Thanks, Edmond. I’ll call you on my way back after the show.”
“I’ll be waiting, miss.” I give him a look, and he chuckles. “Rory.”
“There you go.” As much as I love the baby sling, I don’t have the stamina to carry Layla around for hours in this heat. By the time I get to the restaurant, I wonder if my makeup has slid down my face. Before I go in, I wipe under my eyes so I don’t look like a raccoon.
The restaurant is housed in a huge warehouse, but as soon as you get inside, it’s dark and chic with high ceilings, low light, and music that pulses in the background. It’s a whole vibe.
Musicians I recognize stroll past me, and I’m about to follow them in, but the ma?tre d’ stops me. “Ma’am, that’s a special event.”
“I know. I’m with one of the bands.”
He glances at Layla, then back at me. “I’m sorry, but I have strict instructions not to let anyone in who isn’t on the tour.”
“I’m with Wayward Sons.”
He snorts. “No, you’re not.”
This guy is pissing me off. I get out my phone and dial Jace. He doesn’t pick up. So I dial Frank. “Can you come get me? I’m at the restaurant, but apparently, I don’t look like I belong with the band.”
“Sure thing. Hold tight.” When I spot him, I sigh with relief. His scowl is fierce. “She’s with us.”
The ma?tre d’ nods like he doesn’t care.
If he didn’t care, why was he being a dick?
“Thanks, Frank.”
“No problem. We’re back here.”
The pulsing music is louder in the main room, which has dark velvet curtains and booths along the wall. In the middle are tables filled with bands and label executives.
I push the stroller, nearly stumbling when I spot Garrett Gamble, who’s talking to a table of important-looking men in dark suits. Play it cool, Rory. I rush to catch up to Frank, who escorts me to where the guys are seated in one of those big circular booths.
Everyone turns to face me. Jace is sitting on the other side, in the very middle, next to Marlowe, whose whole body is turned to him as they talk.
“Hi, guys.” I wave, feeling like an idiot.
Jace looks surprised to see me. “I didn’t think you were coming.”
“I told you I was before you left to deal with the merch.”
God, everyone’s looking at me. I glance around at all the full tables. There’s literally no place to sit. Frank left to mingle, and I’m standing here with a baby in a stroller.
This is why I avoid public spaces. Because when I go out, I debate things like what I should do with my hands or whether I’m breathing too loudly.
People resume talking, but Jace’s side of the table scoots out so he can come see me.
I hate my life right now.
When he gets out, he grins at me and pulls me into his arms. I pat his back awkwardly.
“Sorry, Rory. We must’ve gotten our wires crossed.” When he pulls away, his smile widens as he takes me in. “You look great.”
I’m too flustered to care about my appearance, and I rush to explain why I’m here. “Frank wanted some behind-the-scenes stuff. Asked me to come this morning.” But now I don’t know why. I’m not sure that video of everyone sitting around a giant booth is interesting.
“Cool. Wish I had known so I could’ve saved you a spot.” He leans down, unsnaps Layla, and picks her up. “Hey, pretty girl. How you doing?”
“Dada!” She kicks her legs and tries to eat her fist.
Jace freezes and his frontman persona melts away. It’s as though the crushing weight of this room, of the need to be on in this restaurant full of industry sharks, suddenly evaporates. In this moment, he’s not the popular lead singer of Wayward Sons. He’s just Layla’s father.
Pulling her tight against his chest, he kisses the top of her head. “Yeah, baby, I’m Daddy.”
His voice is raw. Vulnerable. His words hang in the air as warmth blooms in my chest. When he turns to me, his eyes are bright as a boyish grin breaks across his face. “That’s the first time she’s called me that,” he whispers, his words laced with relief.
“She loves you.” I smile as I smooth down her dress, hyper-aware that people are watching us and wishing we were alone. “She took a nap and ate some lunch. We read a few books.”
Jace bounces his daughter in his arms. “I’m so glad you brought those for her. It never crossed my mind to bring her books.” Layla smiles at her dad and gives him a slobbery kiss that makes him laugh. “Let’s see if we can get some chairs to push to the end of the table.”
Shane slides out of the booth. “She can take my seat. I need to go talk to someone.”
Jace smiles at me. “Are you hungry? There’s a buffet. Let’s grab you a bite first.” He takes my hand and escorts me across the room. All the while, he’s greeting other bands and industry people. He’s so charming. I marvel at how easily this comes to Jace.
He hands me a plate when we get to a giant table of food, and I grab a slice of gooey lasagna, salad, and an iced tea.
“Are you sure you don’t want more?” He motions to another table that has breads and cookies and finger foods.
“This is enough. I’ll fall into a food coma if I eat too much, and then who will record tonight?”
He winks. “You’re awesome.”
Why does he have to be so sweet?
He’s just wearing jeans and a dark t-shirt, but the way the fabric stretches across his muscular chest and arms should be criminal.
As we make our way back to our table, I tug on his hand, and he turns to me. “Listen, about last night. I’m sorry I overreacted.”
Those sea-glass-green eyes study mine. “We’re good. Layla is happy and that’s the only thing that matters.”
Right. The baby. The reason I have this job. “Great.”
He glances away as he pats Layla on the back. “There’s something I should tell you.”
I knew it. He’s firing me. He’s going to drop me off at Greyhound tomorrow, and I’ll have to take a twenty-hour bus back to Texas. “What’s up?”
Jace rubs the back of his neck as he lowers his voice. “Frank said the label doesn’t want me to advertise I’m married. I told him I won’t act single or do anything obnoxious while you and I are together. But I wanted you to know.”
That’s just it. We’re not really together.
A giant knot forms in my throat, and I struggle to swallow. “Whatever you need.”
He tugs out a chain around his neck where his wedding band dangles. “Hope you don’t mind, but I took this off.”
I stare at my favorite prop. “Right.” Our rings. I tug mine off and shove it on my other hand.
His eyes soften as he studies mine. What does he see on my face? Embarrassment? Fear? Hives?
After a long minute, he threads our fingers together. “I’m just gonna tell everyone you’re my girlfriend. That way no one tries to set me up and groupies don’t get any ideas. Is that okay?”
I’m too busy managing whatever’s happening between my ribs to process those words, but I nod. “Sure.”
He gives me that crooked grin, tugs me closer, and kisses me. “For good measure.”
When we separate, I notice several suits staring at us, and I wonder if this is a good idea.
I’m still replaying this conversation when we get back to our booth. Jace stands back and holds his hand out. “Go ahead.” That will put me next to Marlowe. I turn to him and whisper, “Are you sure?”
“This way I can get out a little easier if Layla needs to be changed.”
Is he saying that so he doesn’t have to sit next to his ex? I wouldn’t want to sit next to mine either. I smile, this one feeling genuine. “Good thinking.” With my plate full of pasta, I maneuver past him to get into the booth. Just as Marlowe climbs out, bumping into me.
And that plate of cheesy lasagna?
It hits my chest and slides down my body, hitting the floor with a splat.