Page 39 of Rising Star

Was the blood pooling in my cheeks visible in the inky night?

“You’d have more kids if I ask you to? Hypothetically. Sorry, not hypothetically.”

We exchanged smiles laden with heavy, unsaid promises.

“I would if it was something you envision too. With me. We never know how the future will turn out to be, but so far, you and I, we make a great team. We connect on a level I had no clue existed before we met. We understand each other without words, and there’s the pull. It’s hard to resist. Also, I can picture us in a couple of years. You with a huge belly. Someday. And a little Maddie running around. No pressure, though. I have my arms full right now.”

We both snickered. And my frantic pulse found its rhythm back.

Sam cleared his throat. “Before she quit on us, Lisa suffered two miscarriages.”

“I’m sorry. I had no idea.” I paused, surprised by his confession. “Do you think it broke up your marriage?” I asked.

“No. Life has a way. As if it knew we weren’t destined to be together much longer. So, somehow, it prevented more children from being hurt by their mother’s abandonment.” He laughed as he said, “Took me hours of family therapy to acknowledge the fact. And to accept it.”

“I’m glad it worked out in the end. Do you think the girls are better off without her?”

“At first, I didn’t. Now I know they are. No questions asked. I can see how wrong our relationship was and how it would have affected them in many other ways growing up if she had stayed. With a step back, I’m not sure we even loved each other. We came together very young and got lost in the excitement of my career. It was fun. Until it wasn’t. She was toxic to our family because it was never about our kids and always about her. She would often use the headache excuse to avoid interacting with them. She was lethal with me too. When she would make unreasonable demands and get angry when I couldn’t meet her unattainable standards. It took another dozen hours of therapy to grasp that piece of info.”

We watched each other, both of us assessing the last confessions we made. Something potent simmered between us. It charged the air with more lust particles. And a meaningful amount of trust and respect. For being able to open our hearts with no limitations. For being able to tell our truths as they were.

“Why did you walk out on me that day? At the agency?” I asked. The question had been nagging me since the day we met, and the intimacy we shared right now felt like a good moment to clear the air once and for all.

“Because”—Sam rubbed his nape—“at first, I felt contradictory emotions. And I had a fucking hard-on. You woke up something in me. Something strong. And I panicked. Because I couldn’t picture myself spending six months in close proximity to you. Some fifty-year-old woman wouldn’t have threatened my sanity. And my libido. But you did. From the get-go. And it freaked me out.”

I relaxed my stance. “What changed your mind?”

“Riley. He said to give you a chance. To dream again. And that in order to do so, I needed you by my side.”

My skin heated up at his words.

“Let’s just say he wasn’t wrong. And not just on the nanny part of the deal.”

Neither of us said anything else for a long time, everything we confessed becoming more pieces of string binding us together.

“Can I ask you something?” Sam asked, sipping on his beer. “Why did Emily threaten to ruin me if I messed with her little sister, aka you? What did you tell her?”

He arched a brow, and I could tell he wasn’t mad I confided in my sister, but rather curious.

“She said you were acting like a possessive creep out there when Becks made a joke about me. And she came to the conclusion our relationship wasn’t just business. Or platonic. I confirmed nothing. But she knows me. And she’s good at reading people. Don’t worry; you’re not special. She gives the same speech to any guy getting too close to me.”

Sam arched his brow higher, amusement playing on his features now. “So, I’m not special?”

I snorted. “Just a tiny bit,” I said, bringing my thumb and forefinger together. My teasing faded. “We leave in a week. Does the reality of kicking off the tour make you anxious?”

He held his hand out, palm facing up. Without thinking, I slid mine into it and relished the way our fingers threaded.

“Truth?” he asked.

I nodded.

“Every tour. Every album. Every concert is stressful. You never know how it’ll turn out. How the crowd will react. But it’s also addictive. And this time, I have you. And the girls. So, I’m calmer than I’ve ever been. Because no matter if I fail or if it doesn’t work out, I know I have tried. And now I understand my life doesn’t begin and end on a stage. There are people counting on me. People I care about. And in the equation, they are much more valuable than any song I’ll ever write or any crowd I’ll ever entertain.”

My heart swelled in my chest. Even without saying it in words, Sam just declared me as an important part of his life.

“We should get some sleep. Because you look very hot right now with the moon shining on you. And that curve of your lips is hard to resist,” he said with a glint in his eyes.

I loved how we had come to terms with our attraction and could now talk about it openly, without having to keep everything under wraps anymore.