I Have Lived and I Have Loved - Willow Winters Page 0,112

how easy he can make things disappear.

“Don’t worry about me.”

He stops putting things in the bag and gives me his serious look. “Like that’ll ever happen.”

Randy is two years older, and since our dad skipped out when we were kids and then died two years later, he thinks it’s his job to protect me.

“Seriously, Ran. Stop. Be my fucking brother for once.”

He huffs. “Fine. I think you need to grow up, Eli. You’re over forty, never married, no kids, not even a serious girlfriend since—”

“Don’t say her name.” I put my hand up. “I don’t want to even think about her tonight.”

Randy knows better. I don’t talk about her. At all.

“Fine, but Vannah is worried, too.”

“Savannah couldn’t care less about my love life. What you meant to say is Mom is worried. She’s probably chewing Vannah’s ear off about it, so she’s coming to you.”

My mother is the queen of meddling. She’s like a damn parakeet, “Eli needs a wife. Eli needs a wife.” I hear it all the damn time.

“No, it’s not Mom. It’s everyone. Stop the partying and random girls. Find someone who actually has a brain. You can’t tell me you’re satisfied with your life.”

“I can tell you I’m done listening to you.” I lean back and cross my arms.

Why do people think I need to be married to be happy? When did that become the definition of success and contentment?

Randy hoists his bag over his shoulder and smirks. I can practically read the thoughts in his mind. He thinks he has me. He has all the answers for why I need to live the life he thinks I should be living.

“And what about when things get tougher for you?”

And he just hit the only sore spot I have.

“Now I’m done.”

I flip him off and walk out. As soon as I enter the hallway, I hear the screams. I’m really not in the mood anymore, but I have to at least appear. I wave to the girls who couldn’t get in and head to the meet and greet where I hope she’s waiting.

There are days when this life is exhausting. I work my ass off and don’t get to enjoy it nearly as much as I thought I would. It’s all work all the time in my life. This business has a life expectancy, and I’m past it, which is why my focus has shifted to my show and movie projects. That is where I feel normal. I’m surrounded by people who don’t care who I was all those years ago. I’m an actor, a friend, a fucking human. When I’m on tour, it’s different.

Acting gives me way more freedom than the band ever did, too. I have more days off, no days on the bus, and a nice long break between filming. I don’t know how these other musicians constantly tour.

I turn the corner, and the music from the after party fills the air. The bass is loud, and the lights are dimmed, which means the girls are most definitely primed. My mind is set on one thing: convincing the blonde to spend the night with me. My mind has been consumed by her, and I move quickly, hoping she’s there.

I haven’t been this excited about a girl in a long time. There is no such thing as normal dating for performers. No woman wants to put up with the tabloids, groupies, and the fact that her man is never around. I sure as fuck wouldn’t.

“Eli,” a girl I don’t know croons. “There you are.”

She’s hot, but not the girl I’m searching for.

“I’ll find you later,” I brush her off.

I glance around the dark room, but I don’t see her. A few other girls approach me. I give them my customary smile while still scanning the faces for the one I’m looking for. She should be here. That’s the one good thing about our manager—he does his damn job.

Finally, a few people move, and I see her. She’s standing in the corner with her friend. Her long blonde hair is pulled to the side, showing off the skin on her shoulder, while she’s sipping a beer. I love a woman who drinks from a bottle. It’s sexy and down to earth. Shows me she isn’t all high maintenance and can hang with the boys.

I push my way through the crowd and beeline right toward her. “You made it,” I say, scaring her a little.

“Oh—” She clears her throat. “I-I . . . you said? I mean,