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“Shit. I’m so sorry. Howard said you made it inside, and then I lost track of time and so many people wanted to speak to me.” I reach for her hand, but she bends to retrieve her shoes. “Let’s go inside.”

She stares up the steps like she’s about to face the gallows. “It was so embarrassing, Tate. They thought I was a fan. People were laughing and staring at me. You said you wouldn’t leave me.”

I wince at her broken whisper. “I know.”

This is a dumpster fire. I’m tempted to call it a night, hail a cab, and protect her from all this chaos. I hate that she hates this.

I slump next to her. “I just wanted this to be a fun night where we could forget about everything that’s happened.”

Through smoky eyes, she studies me. “I don’t know if I’m having fun.”

“Yeah.” I stare at my boots, sticking out of the bottom of my crisp dress pants. I didn’t even dress myself. An outfit arrived earlier today at the house. “I guess I wanted you to be proud of me.” I wince. “Fuck, that sounded childish.”

She shuffles closer. “I’m proud of you, no matter what you do. Everything moved so quickly the last few weeks, and we haven’t spoken much.” Her fingers twist around the strap of her purse. “I’m sorry if you thought I wasn’t.”

“It won’t always be like this. I promise. Things are settling, and once I get a clear idea of tour dates and stops, we can get our life back on track.” Doubt brews in the air. “Think of the places we can visit. All the memories we can make.”

Talia remains silent.

A memory flashes in my head. “What did Howard say to you?”

She purses her lips. “Nothing. He was just giving me a rundown of how everything works.”

I don’t quite believe her, but I don’t want to push. Not tonight.

“How about this? Let’s stay for the free food and drink, watch the movie, and then we can leave. Grab a pizza on the way home.”

My words break through the apprehension, and a true, albeit tentative, smile rises to the surface. She looks at the building. “Okay. Let’s see what the fuss is about.”

After the small hiccup, we have a good time, staying off the sidelines and keeping to ourselves. The moment it’s acceptable, we leave, and I ignore Howard’s texts and calls. Tonight, I need my wife and she needs me.

We’re tearing off each other’s clothes the moment we step inside the house, stumbling over the moving boxes and falling up the stairs until we land in a heap on our bed. We fuck hard and fast, well into the night.

Then the morning comes.

And I wish the sun never rose.

Talia sits next to me on the bed, staring blankly at her phone.

“What’s wrong?” Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I peer over her shoulder. She’s flipping through her DMs, and it takes a moment to realize there are hundreds of messages. “Wait. Is this your account?”

She nods before handing me the phone. “They must’ve found me. There are some news articles about you. Us. Me. You should read them.” Her voice is void of emotion. “I’m going to get a shower.”

Confusion quickly turns into sickly realization.

You’re his wife? Hopefully he’ll upgrade soon.

I didn’t realize Tate liked them fat.

You’re fucking disgusting.

What a dog.

White-hot fury seeps into my veins. I nearly crush the phone. The messages are vile. Completely uncalled for and false. I can’t comprehend it. I’m nobody, or I was, but I’ve only just entered the scene of the music industry. Is this what it’s going to be like?

Curiosity gets the better of me, and I search the internet for the articles. There are pictures of Talia tucked into my side, clinging to my suit jacket, looking like a deer in headlights as we stand on the red carpet.

From rags to riches, but did Tate Brooks’s wife get the memo?