right person. Because that’s what people did. At least that’s what all the adults I knew had done, at least at some point. Not that it always ended happily. My own parents got divorced when I was in sixth grade. But my dad’s remarried now, and seems happier than I’ve seen him in a long time. He told me he’s planning on doing it right this time. Learning from the mistakes he made when I was a kid.
Which, I mean, good for him. Kinda sucks to be the practice kid, though.
Maybe that’s why marriage-as-a-business-transaction doesn’t bother me too much. I never had a very positive view of marriage in general to begin with.
Despite not seeing each other, Colt and I have kept in contact quite a bit since our first meeting—texting daily and video chatting at least once a week. He’s funny, charming, sweet. He works his ass off, I can tell. He’s always tired, telling me about all the things he does for his brother. And his plate has been even more full, since he’s been training his replacement.
When I’d admitted to feeling guilty about that, he gave me a reassuring smile. “Don’t,” he said. “This was my idea, remember? Besides, soon enough, I’ll be working with you. And since you won’t be on tour for a while yet, I can catch up on my sleep then.”
I still get warm fuzzies remembering that conversation. Which is sad. Because it’s not like he’s excited to see me. He’s excited to have a more relaxed schedule. And he’s excited for the prospect of moving forward as an artist. Not because he and I have a normal romantic relationship. It’s all business. I need to remember that and not get swept away by his charm and good looks.
The doorbell pulls me out of my reverie, and with one more deep breath and a forced smile, I pull open the door. Because even though we’ve been talking and everything is working out, I’m still nervous about seeing him again. And about looking like a couple in public.
Sure, yeah, we kissed at that party. And we definitely had sparks. Even the internet comments pointed that out.
But I can do this. I can keep sex—not even sex, just kissing, really fantastic kissing, but kissing all the same—and my emotions separate. This will help move my career forward, and that’s what matters.
He looks delicious, standing there in designer jeans that show off his muscular thighs, a faded T-shirt and a black sport coat. The perfect combination of casual rock star and ready for a night out. A sexy smile stretches across his face as his eyes scan my body. “You look terrific. Edible.” I take the hand that he holds out, and he raises it above my head, inviting me to turn.
Unable to repress my own smile, I do a little spin while he makes appreciative noises in his throat. “Damn, Alexis. This is an even better welcome than I dared hope for.”
My smile grows wider at the sincere appreciation in his words. It’s a balm to my hypercritical brain. Most of the guys I’ve been around recently either straight up tell me I need to lose weight, like the male label execs, or only hand out backhanded compliments, thinking that negging me will make me desperate for their approval or some bullshit like that.
But not Colt. Colt’s only given me genuine compliments since I met him.
“Thank you.” I drag my eyes over him again. “You look pretty fantastic yourself.”
His smile turns lopsided and he smooths a hand down his shirt. “This old thing?”
We both laugh, because we both know that he spent time and effort to look this casual and put together. That’s the way things work in our world.
“You ready to go?” he asks, releasing my hand.
“Just let me put on my shoes.” I step into the nude pumps sitting next to the door, grab my clutch, and drop my phone and lipstick inside. “Alright. Ready.”
We step outside, where I close and lock my door. He offers me his elbow, and with a laugh, a giggle really—this boy has reduced me to giggling, and I’m not a giggler—I place my hand inside his arm and let him escort me to the car. He opens the back door for me, then slides in next to me, giving the driver directions for the restaurant Delores picked for our first date.
Once the car pulls away from the curb, he smiles over at me, that charming, boyish smile