Page 42 of One Weekend in Los Angeles

Would I ever get used to how this man gave me shivers? I’d only planned to spend a couple weeks in Australia, but that short stay had turned into months. And four months into that, Deacon had asked me to move in with him.

His oasis in Australia was incredible. The main building of the three pavilions in the compound boasted a gourmet kitchen and a spacious living space. The second building, my favorite, held the master suite with an incredible four-poster bed and an en-suite bathroom. A plunge pool right outside the door formed the foreground of the ocean view.

The third and final pavilion was his songwriting retreat with comfortable sofas and a state-of-the-art gym. It really was an oasis, and I never got tired of taking walks down the path to the beach or exploring the incredible wildlife Australia had to offer.

My house had sold with an all-cash offer, making it quick and painless. After the televised interview about my breakup and with the public interest in my relationship with Deacon, the network had offered me a sizable amount to return to City of Angels. I’d declined and had zero regrets.

At the concert, Deacon finished a song and started talking up the audience. “Hello, LA, it’s so good to be back here. I’m about to drop a new album next month and thought I’d debut a song from it here today.”

I assumed he’d start to play the first single off the album. Instead, he motioned to his stage manager, and a spotlight suddenly shone on me. I was stunned and barely registered his next words.

“Won’t you welcome to the stage, my girlfriend, the beautiful Andrea Roberts?”

The crowd went nuts even though he hadn’t used the name they all knew from City of Angels. The instant my divorce had been finalized two weeks ago, I’d shed myself of my ex-husband’s surname and gone back to the one I’d grown up with.

Like the last time Deacon had done this to me, it took Ollie to snap me out of my trance. “Go on up there, lovely,” he urged from the seat beside me.

Right. On shaky legs, I walked to the edge of the stage. There, I was assisted up the steps by security. Leave it to Deacon to stand there with a sexy smirk.

“You know, LA, Andrea and I had our very first kiss here in front of a crowd. So I thought it only fitting that she be up here on stage when I sing the song I wrote about her during the very first weekend we spent together.”

Holy shit. Of course, I knew he’d written some words down months ago, but he hadn’t once mentioned it since.

A chair was produced from somewhere, and one of the stagehands led me to it. Meanwhile the band started to strum the chords of an unfamiliar song.

“In the morning when the sun shines on her face,

I know she’s in the right place.

My brave girl…”

I’d never believed in out-of-body experiences, but sitting there on stage listening to the man I loved serenade me in front of tens of thousands of people sent me straight into one.

I didn’t realize I had tears streaming down my face until the song ended and Deacon pulled me up from my chair to wipe the moisture away with his thumbs. His expression was pure concern until I finally smiled and threw my arms around his neck.

“It was so beautiful,” I whispered, still not convinced this wasn’t a dream.

His lips found mine and the deafening sound of the crowd faded away. Just like the first time he’d kissed me, the magic was still there. But this time he topped it.

“I love you, Andi.”

“I love you too. So much.”

With one last kiss, he flipped on the mic again. “Let’s hear it for my brave girl, LA.”

The fans went nuts, and I was sure my face was bright red as I walked off to the side of the stage where Deacon’s manager greeted me.

DEACON

I closed out the festival with my last six songs, my biggest hits, and said goodnight to Los Angeles.

I’d expected Andrea to get emotional about me singing “Brave Girl” to her, but I hadn’t anticipated how emotional it would make me to see her there on stage listening to every word.

She was the love of my life. I truly believed that every day I spent with her. And although I’d contemplated getting down on one knee in front of the world to ask her to spend the rest of her life with me, I decided that question would be something I’d ask in private.

Bounding off of the stage, I greeted her with a hug that took her off her feet. “Have I told you you’re the best thing to ever happen to me?” I whispered in her ear, hard-pressed to let her go.

While it was true that she looked incredible in the little black dress she was wearing tonight, something that showed off the curves I adored, that wasn’t what had me overwhelmed. During the entire concert, she’d sung along to my songs as if she was so proud to be there with me. This was something I hadn’t even known I’d needed.