Love Song(138)

“I did, yeah.” His eyes meet mine. “I said yes.”

My stomach clenches. “Oh, well, great. Congratulations.”

“Thanks.”

A short silence falls.

Despite myself, I suddenly flash back to those photos. They weren’t racy. No one “canoodling” in a corner, thank God. But there was one of him standing close to her, and she had her hand on his arm, her touch very deliberate. And another one where he was gazing down at her, smiling at something she said.

Although I hate myself for doing it, I can’t help bringing up the article. “I saw the pictures of you at that event in Nashville. She’s gorgeous,” I say tightly.

“Yeah, she is,” he agrees. Then he pauses. “Nothing happened.”

A laugh slips out before I can stop it. “Really?”

“Well, no, something did happen,” he amends, and it’s like a knife to the heart. “She kissed me.”

The blade twists harder.

“I kissed her back.”

My heart is gaping open now, gushing blood.

“But I didn’t let it go any further.”

“Why not?”

“Because I didn’t want to. I told her I was in love with somebody else.” His voice is gruff. “I don’t want to be with anyone but you.”

My head is still stuck on the fact that he kissed somebody else. Yes, I pretended I was cool with him being with other people, and yes, I really don’t have any claim on him, but God, did he have to tell me?

“Nothing’s changed,” he says, just like he’s said every time we’ve spoken since I woke up in that hospital.

“Wyatt…”

“No, I’m going to say this every fucking time till you believe me, Blake. I love you. I—”

“Yo, G, what are you doing?” interrupts a male voice. “Picking up my neighbors?”

We both spin toward the man sauntering toward us. For a second, I’m starstruck, because Cole Tanner is all over my social media, all the time. I’m constantly bombarded with clips of his music videos, gorgeous shirtless pictures, interviews where he’s flashing those endearing dimples. He’s even better looking in person.

He reaches us, glancing at me with a faint smile. “And who might you be?”

“Blake, Cole,” Wyatt says in way of introduction.

“Blake?” Cole’s eyes widen. “Wait, this is the muse?” His head swivels back to Wyatt. “You two made up?”

I don’t know how much he’s told Cole about our relationship, so now I shift in discomfort. “Actually,” I answer for Wyatt, keeping my tone light, “we just bumped into each other. Weird coincidence, huh?”

Cole responds with a knowing chuckle. “Oh, muse, there’s no such thing as coincidences.” He raises a brow at me. “You should come back to the hotel with us. My manager set us up at a real swanky place. Swanky for Trenton anyway. We’re gonna have some drinks—”

“I can’t,” I interject. “I need to catch the train home.”

From the corner of my eye, I see a car turning onto the street, and relief trickles through me. It’s my ride. Perfect timing.

“That’s me,” I tell the guys, taking a step toward the curb.

Wyatt blocks my path. “No, wait.”

“I’ll give you a second,” Cole says, then strides toward his mother’s driveway. Two sharp beeps slice the air as he unlocks a silver Mercedes.

Once he’s gone, Wyatt clears his throat. “I was told that significant others are allowed on the tour.”

I blink, not expecting that. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” He hesitates for a beat. “Come with me.”

My heartbeat kicks up. “On tour?”

“Yeah. It kicks off next week and lasts six months. First show is in Boston.”

“You’re asking me to come on tour with you.” I feel a bit dazed.

“Yes.”

“Even if I wanted to, I have school…” I trail off.

“You said you might be finished this semester,” he reminds me. “You had that meeting with your advisor. And if you can’t swing it, you don’t even like school. You could just take the semester off and finish in the summer if you really want to.”

“My parents would kill me,” I say, as if that’s the one impediment to me embarking on a world tour with Wyatt and the pop star he kissed.

“Your parents will understand. They love you. They’ll support anything you do as long as they know you’re choosing something that makes you happy.”

“You say that like you know what makes me happy.”

“I think I do,” he says softly. “I think a lot of things, actually.”

I swallow the lump in my throat. “Like what?”

“I think you miss me. I think you went through something. We went through something. I think it scared you. I think it hurt you a lot. But I don’t think anything has changed. I love you, and I think you love me.”

Tears sting my eyes. I don’t answer for a moment. My mind unwittingly flashes back to those pictures of him and Mollie May laughing. Her hand curled possessively over his bicep. And all my insecurities rush in. I feel the same way I did when I went to Fashion Week with Alex. Everyone fawning all over the supermodel. Me sitting there with my freckles, utterly invisible. I can’t even imagine how insecure I’d feel going on tour with Mollie May. Meeting the stunning woman, shaking her hand, watching her command a stage in a sold-out arena.