Chapter 1
one
Kate
If my life were a movie, I wouldn’t be the leading lady with the wind blowing in her perfectly styled hair as she struts confidently down the street in a killer pair of Christian Louboutins as a Megan Thee Stallion anthem plays in the background.
I’d be the one walking ten steps behind her—carrying coffee for the entire office, dodging pigeons, and probably tripping over a crack in the sidewalk.
There’s nothing cinematic about me. No dramatic entrances. No slow-motion moments. No one stops and stares when I walk into a room. Honestly, most of the time, they accidentally bump into me then say, “Oh—when did you get here?”.
And for the longest time, I was okay with that. Happy, even. Blending in was normal. Safe. Something I didn’t even question.
Until I let my ex get in my head.
I used to think there was value in being the steady and reliable one. The one who notices the details no one else sees and quietly swoops in to take care of minor inconveniences before they become full blown problems.
But lately, those things feel less like strengths and more like flaws. Like all the things I thought made me a good person are the reasons I keep getting overlooked.
Now, every time my new boss calls me by a different name, I can’t help but think that Anthony was right—I am forgettable.
“Oh hey, Keri,” Josh says, digging through a pile of what I can only assume is dirty laundry on the floor of his hotel suite. I make a mental note to gather everything up and take it to whatever laundromat is close by after he leaves for the radio interview.
It’s been two weeks since Velvet Shadows’ tour started, and I have—so far—been called Kathy, Chrissy, Kristie, and now, Keri.
See, the voice in my head scoffs. You don’t matter. You’ll never matter. You’re forgettable.
He’s not doing it on purpose, I argue.
Josh Calloway may be one of the most famous people on the planet, but he isn’t an asshole. He’s unintentionally oblivious. In his own little world where things just…happen. Interviews are lined up, and food is delivered, and cars arrive right on time to take him from one place to the next.
“Remind me again what’s happening today?” Josh asks, holding up a gray shirt that has some kind of stain down the front and tossing it aside.
“You all have an appearance at 102.9 The Buzz at ten and the Uber will be here in…” I glance down at my phone to check the arrival time. “Seven minutes. After that, you’re free until sound check at six.”
“Perfect,” he says, sniffing the armpits of a black shirt he pulled from the floor before shrugging—apparently deeming it good enough—and pulling it on. “What are you doing today?”
Oh, you know, I think. Lining up interviews, responding to emails, managing your social media account, making sure the greenroom has everything you need for the night.
And laundry, apparently.
“The usual,” I say with a nonchalant shrug.
“Well, don’t hide out in here working all day. Make sure you take some time for yourself, yeah? Have you ever been to Nashville?”
Internally, I sigh.
“I grew up here,” I remind him, forcing a pleasant smile.
“Shit, that’s right. I’m sorry,” he says, spritzing himself down with cologne and checking his mane of shoulder-length, wavy hair in the mirror before turning to face me.
“I’m…not great with details.” As always, there’s something in his light green eyes telling me he’s sincere in his apology, and, as always, I let it slide.
“If you were, then I imagine I wouldn’t have a job.” I give him a quick once over as he approaches me. “And you’d probably have pants on.”
“Shit!” he says, looking down and realizing that he has, in fact, forgotten to put on a pair of pants.
He returns to the pile of laundry on the floor while I fire off a text to Dani, my best friend and assistant to the drummer, letting her know the Uber is five minutes out.
She responds to say the rest of the guys are already waiting in the lobby for Josh.
“Alright, everyone’s downstairs and the Uber is over on the next block,” I announce. I turn, heading for the door to his suite, and immediately feel his presence behind me.
Josh isn’t an overly large man—standing just over six feet, he’s only a few inches taller than me—but he’s magnetic.
I can’t explain it, but every time we’re in the same room, I know where he is without even looking.
He’s the kind of person that you naturally gravitate to.
He pulls you in with his alarmingly good looks and warm personality.
He’s charming. Confident, not cocky. He’s not trying to be the center of attention all the time, it just happens.
He’s a natural frontman.
It came as no surprise that Velvet Shadows didn’t take off until he left his drum kit behind and stepped into the spotlight, because I can’t imagine Josh Calloway ever existing in the background.
Dani and I see the guys off, trusting them to go at this one alone, and I’m finally able to let out a disappointed sigh.
“What’d he call you today?” Dani asks, tossing her long, blonde hair over her shoulder.
“Keri.”
She groans as she turns to face me. “Why don’t you just say something?”
I shrug.
“He’s getting closer,” I say, defending him for reasons I still don’t fully understand. “At least Keri is something that could start with a K and has the right number of letters.”
“You need to stop doing this,” she says as we walk through the hotel lobby and to the elevators.
“Doing what?”
“Believing you’re not worth paying attention to.”
“It’d be easier if people treated me like I was,” I say, pressing the button to call for the elevator. “Anthony was right. I’m forgettable.”
“I’m pretty sure that asshole has never been right about anything in his life. Especially not about you.” I give a half-hearted shrug, and she rolls her eyes, the universal signal that she’s had enough of your bullshit and is done arguing with you.
I always appreciate when she tries to hype me up, but it’s hard to believe what she’s saying is true when, other than my dad, she’s the only one who’s ever taken the time to see me. Love me. Accept me for who I am and not force me to be someone I’m not.
The only one who refused to fall for Anthony’s controlling, manipulative bullshit.
We part ways at the door to Josh’s suite, making plans to meet up for lunch.
She mentioned that Ty, the writer traveling with the band this summer to write the biography for the drummer, is still under the weather, so I shoot her a text to check in, offering to grab some soup or see if she’s running low on any of the medicine she’s been taking.
She replies a few minutes later to thank me and say that Eric has basically turned her hotel room into a drug store, which I should have already guessed.
I have never seen a man so in love with a woman before, and I have never seen a woman so utterly and completely oblivious to it.
Though I’ve known Dani since college, I’d only met Ty at the beginning of the tour, and we were fast friends, bonding over our shared love of organization, spreadsheets, and checklists.
When she showed me the schedule she’d made for her interviews with Eric—color-coded by topic and cross-referenced with past interviews to avoid repetition—I swear I fell a little bit in love.
I step back into Josh’s suite and gather his clothes from the floor, making sure to check the pockets of his pants and hoodies for anything that could be ruined from a trip through the washing machine, before tossing them onto the bed in a pile.
I step through the door that joins our rooms, grab the mesh laundry bag from my suitcase, and pull my phone out of my back pocket to find the address of the closest laundromat.
When I arrive, the lovely woman at the counter offers to take care of everything for me, but the space is cozy, I need a break from the four walls of hotel rooms and RVs, and I am absolutely not about to let someone else have all the fun of washing, drying, and folding.
I divide Josh’s clothes, toss them into two machines, and settle onto one of the couches in the corner of the room with my iPad, ready to get lost in a good rom-com.
The kind where the heroine walks into a room, and the unsuspecting hero’s entire world tilts. Where she says look at me without saying a word—and he does, like he never wants to look anywhere else.
Though I’ve never been the kind of person who makes someone stop in their tracks or causes them to lose their train of thought, I like to believe it’s possible. That one day, someone will notice me. Not for what I can do for them, not for how easy I am to be around, not because I’m convenient.
But because I’m unexpected.
Something they didn’t see coming, and now they can’t look away.