Chapter 28
"Is it always this overwhelming?" Erin asks from the side of the room where the gala is being held.
Noah is standing next to her, wearing a suit and a tie that's slowly strangling him.
They arrived an hour ago, and she, Noah, and Jude came in through a back door after showing their credentials, while Mia entered through the red carpet, where she spent time posing in front of dozens of cameras and answering questions from journalists — Lexie Farhall among them — who had gotten her press credential after Erin asked Mia for it.
The singer hadn't made a fuss about it. She picked up her phone, sent a text to Noah to handle the logistics, and when she was done typing, she looked up at Erin.
"What exactly is she to you?"
"Nothing you need to worry about," Erin answered, not looking away.
A strange silence settled between them for a few seconds, because Erin felt it was too soon to have that conversation — she still needed to process what was happening between them.
Mia stood up and walked over to her, placing both hands on the armrests of the chair Erin was sitting in and leaning in close.
"We don't have to talk about this yet," she whispered, as if she were reading her mind, and Erin shivered. "But I promise you don't have to worry about anyone either."
She kissed her and went back to her seat, leaving Erin with her thighs trembling with want.
"It's pretty chaotic, yeah, especially the first few times," Noah answers, trying to adjust his knot with increasing frustration.
"Why don't you just take it off if it's bothering you?" Erin asks, reaching up to loosen the pressure around his neck.
Noah looks down at himself, then back at her.
"You don't think it'll look too casual? Jude won't like it."
"Jude can go to hell," the doctor says, loosening the knot and pulling the tie free.
Noah laughs and lets Erin fix his shirt collar after she unbuttons the top button so it won't dig in.
"You look just as good as before, and you no longer have that constipated look on your face," she says matter-of-factly, and Mia's assistant's smile widens as he runs a hand through his messy hair — something Jude has never managed to tame.
"You look great too, by the way. Mia's going to lose her mind when she sees you."
Erin glances down at herself and smiles.
She'd flatly refused when the singer's stylist suggested a dress, but she'd agreed to wear a fitted suit that looked like it had been made for her.
The pants are dark gray, same as the blazer, and the shirt is a shade of blue that reminded her of the singer's eyes and made her wonder whether the woman had picked that color on purpose.
She took off the blazer a while ago and has her sleeves rolled up below her elbows because she's flushed — not from the heat, but from nerves, as she watches dozens of people file in and find their assigned seats.
"I hope she doesn't," the doctor murmurs, still watching the crowd, until suddenly a wave of voices rises and the flash of several cameras makes them both turn toward the door opening onto the side hallway where they're standing.
Erin watches two women and a man walk in.
The women are holding hands, and the man is walking beside the older one.
It's clear all the attention is on the younger of the two — a girl who looks about Mia's age, with a thick mass of curly hair and enormous brown eyes.
She looks familiar, but Erin can't quite place her.
The three of them stop at the entrance and the man steps aside while the women pose for cameras.
The younger one smiles effortlessly, but the older — a blonde woman with an imposing presence and just as striking as the other — can't seem to manage it.
She looks stiff in front of the cameras, yet she doesn't let go of her girlfriend's hand.
"Who are they?" Erin asks, curious.
"The brunette is Taylor Davey. She's nominated for breakthrough artist. She hasn't been around long, but she's blowing up fast — her first tour started two months ago.
The woman beside her is Abigail Stone. She's her girlfriend and co-owner of the agency that represents her; I'm guessing that's how they met.
The man who came in with them is Liam Cottet, the other partner at the agency and Taylor's official manager. "
Erin's pulse quickens as she remembers her conversation with Violette about this woman.
"Is she good?" she asks Noah.
"Who, Abigail?"
"Yeah."
"God, absolutely," he says, eyebrows raised. "This woman opens doors that are closed to everyone else. Their agency is one of the most powerful in the country."
"That part doesn't interest me much. What I want to know is how they treat the artists they represent. Are they like Jude — all about the numbers — or do they actually care about the people?"
"Through this job I've met several artists who work with them, and I've never heard a complaint. But I couldn't tell you much beyond that."
"Have they ever gone after Mia?" the doctor presses.
Noah blinks, amused.
"Everyone tends to go after everyone when the career has potential. Mia has offers from several agents, including one from Stone & Cottet that came in a few months ago."
"And you've never seriously considered any of them?"
The assistant scratches his head.
"Honestly, not much. Jude was the one who discovered her and gave her her first real shot—"
Noah stops talking when the photographers and journalists part for Taylor Davey and, coming in behind her, Mia appears — greeting Taylor with her stunning smile before turning to pose for the cameras.
Erin can't take her eyes off her. Mia answers questions with her blue eyes locked on the doctor's, until at last they let her go and she makes her way over to them.
"How are you doing?" Erin asks, reaching for her wrist.
Mia rises onto her toes to whisper in her ear.
"Turned on and dying to get you out of that suit."
Erin clears her throat and glances sideways at Noah, but he's off in his own world and hasn't caught any of it.
"You look incredible, seriously," Mia says. "Want to sit?"
There's an awkward beat, because the singer's instinct is to reach for Erin's hand — but she catches herself the moment her fingers graze her, feels Erin stiffen, and pulls back immediately.
Their reserved seats are in the front row, right next to Abigail and Taylor, and Erin settles in with her body rigid, wishing she were sitting somewhere in the middle where they'd draw less attention.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have let Jude seat you next to me."
Mia is on edge too — not because of where they're sitting, but because she can feel Erin's unease, and it affects her in a way she didn't expect.
She'd been so looking forward to sharing a moment like this with her, even knowing perfectly well that Erin isn't her girlfriend and that touching her in public wasn't an option.
But she's falling for this woman. And watching the doctor grip the armrests like she's about to break them makes something tighten in Mia's chest, because she would have liked to think that just being there beside her was enough to help Erin breathe.
"It's fine, don't worry," the doctor says — but her eyes keep darting to the cameras scattered everywhere, and she tenses when one of them, sliding sideways along a mounted rail, stops in front of them for a few seconds before moving on.
Mia doesn't answer. She'd like to reach over and take Erin's hand, tell her everything's okay, that after a few minutes here she'll stop noticing the cameras — but she can't show any affection, because within seconds it would be all over social media with a headline about Mia Wilder and her new girlfriend.
"Think of it like you're at the movies with your girl. Works for me," she hears from her other side.
She turns and finds the cool gaze of Abigail Stone, who looks just as uncomfortable as Erin does — and yet she's sitting there with one leg crossed over the other and her fingers laced through Taylor's between the seats, so maybe not quite.
"I'll try that. I'm Erin."
She extends her hand, and Abigail looks at her for a second before releasing Taylor and shaking it.
"Abigail. You can try the movie trick, or you can throw back a couple of whiskeys next time. That works too."
Erin nods, and Abigail turns back to Taylor as the younger woman says something to her.
The doctor looks up, following the track of the moving camera, turning over the woman's words in her mind.
Next time. Would there be a next time before her contract with the singer ended?
And after? Erin doesn't want to think about that right now, but she can't help it, and she turns back to Mia.
The singer looks more serious than Erin has ever seen her, hands folded in her lap, tracing something invisible on her left palm with one finger — as if that's the only thing she knows how to do to keep herself from the dread rising inside her.
"Mia," Erin whispers — but the singer doesn't hear her, or if she does, she's too far inside herself to surface. "Hey," the doctor leans slightly toward her, and Mia slowly tilts her head in her direction.
"What?" she asks, twisting her hands together.
"It's not you. It's this place that makes me nervous, but—"
Erin has to stop because someone walks out onstage and announces they're starting in thirty seconds. But Mia can't let it sit there — the last thing she needs is to spend the entire gala with that unfinished sentence lodged in her chest.
"But what?" she asks, leaning her head closer to Erin's so she can hear her.
"I don't mind being here with you, if that's what's been worrying you."
"What worries me is that you'll pull away from me over things like this. I really like you, Erin — but this is part of my life, at least as long as people keep loving my music."
The host begins to speak, and Erin looks toward the stage, trying to figure out how to let Mia enjoy this moment without turning the night into a bad memory.
A performance starts, the crowd erupts, and a shiver of excitement moves through her.
She glances at Abigail — just as stiff as she is, but smiling at Taylor, accepting the little displays of affection in public without breaking into hives.
The doctor doesn't know where things with Mia are headed, or even whether it has a future, but she likes the present.
She's comfortable with her. And she wants the singer to feel the same.
"Hey." Erin leans in again until their shoulders touch and Mia turns to her. "Smile for me. Please."
Mia looks at her, and her smile barely makes it — the corner of her mouth trembles — because she's terrified that what they have will end before it even begins if Erin can't handle the pressure of the spotlight.
It's not about this gala. It's about everything.
Because if what they have grows and becomes public, they'll both face a brutal amount of media attention at first, and she can't picture Erin surviving having her privacy invaded like that.
The gala moves forward and the tension between them eases a little.
The doctor manages to get used to the cameras sweeping the room, and the stage lighting stops bothering her as much.
The third award is announced — breakthrough artist — and the host pulls a card from an envelope and reads out Taylor Davey's name.
Taylor nearly launches herself out of her seat as the room bursts into applause, but her first reaction is to turn to her girlfriend and kiss her.
Mia lets out a sharp whistle right next to Erin, leaving her half-deaf, and Erin turns to look at her — finding her radiant, thrilled for her fellow artist as if she'd won the award herself.
Erin is hit with such a fierce urge to kiss her and pull her close that she's almost surprised she doesn't care about the cameras in that moment.
Taylor stands to accept the award, and the gala continues until they reach one of the categories Erin's lover is nominated in.
The award goes to someone else, and Mia takes it graciously and applauds with the same enthusiasm as before.
Erin can't say the same — she wants to put her arms around her, and she's starting to feel a little unsettled by her own reactions.
"Are you okay?" she asks, leaning toward the singer.
Mia nods, but Erin isn't satisfied and discreetly takes her pulse — fast, too fast.
"Try not to get yourself so worked up, okay?" she says, raising an eyebrow.
The singer smiles and accepts the water bottle Erin offers, taking a long drink because her throat is dry from all the screaming. Her next nomination comes up, and the room goes quiet until the host reads the name:
"Mia Wilder."
Unlike what she did when her fellow artists won, Mia goes completely still — mouth half open, hands on the armrests.
The freeze lasts only a second before her smile breaks wide, and Erin's heart turns over when the singer turns toward her, leans in, and stops dead when she realizes what she was about to do.
The audience erupts into applause, but Erin doesn't register the effect the singer's reaction has on the crowd — because everything else has fallen away, and all she can see are Mia's blue eyes.
"I won," she whispers, like she doesn't quite know what to do with herself.
Erin leans toward her, cups her cheek in one hand, and brings their foreheads together.
"Congratulations, honey. Go get your award."
Mia can't stop herself — she kisses her. And Erin doesn't pull back, not even when the crowd erupts around them. It's a short kiss, a soft press of lips that ends in a smile before Mia stands and Erin sits there applauding, proud.
"For the people who give — the ones who stay in your life, and the ones who truly see you when they look at you," Mia says into the microphone, her eyes moving first to Noah, seated in the center section with Jude and Nell, and then to Erin, who smiles at her from the front row.
The singer steps down from the podium and sways slightly to one side — barely a fraction of a second, but Erin is already rising to her feet when Mia, who has grabbed the host's arm to steady herself after catching her heel, takes the microphone back and brings it to her lips.
"False alarm, Dooley," she says, laughing, and the audience dissolves into laughter.
Erin laughs too and drops back into her seat — not missing the fact that Abigail Stone had also stood up to catch her.