Page 5 of One Weekend in Los Angeles

Andrea looked as stunned as I felt. Leaning forward for her ear only, I whispered, “Smile for the cameras, beautiful.”

My statement did the trick. She snapped back to life, taking an unfortunate step back from me and breaking the spell which had somehow found itself on stage with us.

Regaining my senses, I flipped the mic back on.

“Now that’s how a REAL rock star kisses the girl,” I quipped. The fans ate up every word of the obvious dig at her wannabe rock-star husband.

Taking Andrea’s hand, I brought her knuckles to my lips and kissed it not ready to let her go entirely. Leaning in, I whispered, “Have Ollie bring you backstage after, all right?”

“Um, sure. Thanks.”

The hesitation in her reply made me wonder if she’d actually be there.

Chapter Three

ANDREA

One minute I was reading a report on my phone about my ex having his mistress over at our house and arguing with Ollie about leaving the concert to deal with the situation, and the next I was getting escorted on stage to kiss the world’s most eligible bachelor.

If only Deacon’s kiss hadn’t been so incredible. How unfair to measure every future date to a sexy rock star who kissed like, well, a sexy rock star.

But while I’d been stunned, he’d merely been going through the motions. Hell, he probably brought a girl up every concert to run the same schtick. That’s why I hadn’t bothered to stay for the aftershow. It was time to get back to reality.

It had been a fun escape, I thought, making my way to the waiting Uber. Ollie had beseeched me not to go to the house yet in case Jeff and Paula were still there, but it was in fact my home. My bed. God, the thought made me sick. What if Jeff had slept with Paula in my bed?

Just when I thought I could be strong and move on, the past threatened to pull me under with some new revelation exposing a new way to spiral into depths of anger.

As I pulled up to my house, I noticed it was dark, and when I came in the front door, the only sound was the alarm beeping at my arrival. Good. Maybe they weren’t here.

After walking into the kitchen, I set down my purse with a breath of annoyance. We’d finished decorating the house last month, and now we’d have to sell it. Running my hand over the marble countertop I’d spent weeks picking out, I let the tears fall.

It wasn’t fair. Yes, relationships ended. Yes, people were entitled to find their happiness, but my husband had chosen to pursue his while still with me. While I’d been sitting in the doctor’s office making an appointment to start our IVF journey next week, he’d lived a double life. The thought made me sick to my stomach, but I wiped my tears and forced myself to avoid the familiar round of useless thoughts. How could I have been so stupid? So blind?

No. This was his fault. And beating myself up for not suspecting my husband of lying and cheating was victim blaming.

After a long shower, I put on my pajamas and curled up in a freshly changed bed. I automatically reached for my phone, frowning at the forty-six notifications and eighteen missed calls, some from Ollie, some from my parents, and the majority from unknown numbers.

The sight triggered me back to the night the news had broken about my husband cheating. A video catching him and Paula in the alley behind a bar making out, and my life had fallen apart.

Taking a deep breath to steady myself, I scrolled to the text from Ollie, which included an attached video clip. I clicked on it and gasped.

The video showed me up on the stage tonight kissing Deacon Miller. Watching the playback was surreal. It was difficult to process the woman up on stage had been me. Then he delivered the line about being kissed by a real rock star, and the crowd went wild.

For the first time in the last few days, a genuine smile crossed my lips.

I dialed Ollie’s number and was relieved when he picked up on the first ring.

“You’re the talk of the town, darling.” His words were difficult to hear against the background noise.

“I’m not sure that’s a good thing.”

“Are you kidding? You told me you were tired of feeling pathetic. Consider this as the icing on the karma cake you’re now eating. By the way, there was a very disappointed Deacon when you didn’t come backstage with me tonight.”

“Yeah, right.” I doubted he realized I was missing from his party. “Is that where you are now?”

“Yeah. And your on-stage kiss is all the buzz.”

Was I blushing? Maybe I did deserved this boost even if it was fake. “It was definitely my highlight of the month.”