Waking Up Married: A Rock Star Rom Com Page 7

  CHAPTER 13: EMILY

  “What have you done?” my mother scolds the second I finish saying hello.

  I knew I shouldn’t have picked up the call. I should’ve known better. I’m in Vegas, I’m still hungover, and I’m married.

  And somehow...my mother knows.

  I had a whole bunch of missed calls from friends and family back home, including my cheating bastard of an ex-boyfriend, and so when I saw my mom calling for the third time this morning, I (stupidly) picked up.

  She doesn’t give me a chance to answer before raining down her storm of babbling. “In the Clarke family, we marry for life. Did you forget that? We invite our family to celebrate the most sacred vow the church offers. And you run off to Vegas and get married to some guy without telling any of us? What about Chad? What about common sense? What about the logical, smart, careful girl I raised? What’s going on with you?”

  “Nothing,” I say, not bothering to mention that I’ve actually known Adam Wilson since I was ten years old because I’m not totally sure that will help anything. It’s only then I remember that I never actually told my mom that the boy I’ve been dating for years turned out to be a cheating asshole.

  And what’s worse is that I’m the only girl in the family. I have five older brothers because my parents were good Catholics in their late twenties and early thirties, and so for my entire life, my mother has looked forward to planning my wedding.

  And I feel horrible that I stole that away from her.

  I know I was drunk, but that’s not a defense for doing what we did. The light of morning and sobriety tells me what we did was just plain stupid. It’s beyond out of character for me—not the drinking part necessarily, because I know how to have a good time...but the impulsivity of what we did. That’s not me.

  Getting blackout drunk and making a life-changing decision that affects not just me, but so many people around me...that’s not me.

  “So...annulment?” she suggests.

  “I don’t know.” I take a deep breath. Being scolded by my mom isn’t exactly helping me figure out this mess, and it’s certainly not helping me feel any better. “We’ll see,” I lie. I don’t make a habit of lying to my mother, but I don’t even believe this is real just yet.

  Besides, I can’t tell her annulment isn’t an option for us, and further, I can’t admit to my religious mother whose only alcoholic indulgence is the communion wine at Sunday morning mass that I got wasted on tequila, blacked out, and married a rock star. There’s a knock at the door. “I have to go. I’ll call you when I get back home, okay?”

  “Fine, Emily. But take care of yourself and don’t do anything stupid. Or should I say don’t do anything else stupid?”

  “Bye, Mom.” I hang up without responding and open the door to find my husband standing there.

  My husband.

  I can’t help but laugh when his eyes meet mine. “Hey, hubby.”

  He doesn’t smile, and it’s then I notice the anxious darting of his eyes and his arms crossed over his chest and the nervous way his fingers tap on his bicep.

  “What’s going on?”

  He drops his arms and walks into the room. He sits on the edge of the bed, takes a deep breath, and looks straight at me. “I have a proposition for you.”

  I raise both brows as if to tell him to have at it, and he clears his throat.

  “So, um, what would you say to pretending to be married to me for the next six months?”

  I narrow my eyes in his direction before folding my arms across my chest. I read somewhere once that crossing your arms is a way to protect your heart, and I’m certainly doing that right now. “Why?”

  He licks his lips. “Well, to be honest, record sales are up this morning after the news broke to the media. Someone leaked the password to our wedding video, and it’s all over the media. It’s gone viral. We have over a million views already.”

  “Holy shit,” I murmur. A million views?

  I can’t even fathom that.

  I’m a freaking bank teller from San Diego, California, and now my impromptu wedding to an actual celebrity has been viewed over a million times.

  My God. I haven’t even seen that video yet.

  I sit down on the bed next to him...not so close that we’re in touching range, but because I suddenly need to sit, and it’s not just the aftereffects of a cruel hangover making me feel dizzy at the moment.

  I married a rock star last night, and this is only the first tiny glimpse into what that means.

  “So why do you want to stay married?” I ask again, because it’s great that record sales are up and that there have been a bunch of views of our video, but I’m not entirely sure how that’s related.

  “My manager thinks America wanted to see me get a happy ending after my break-up with Bree was broadcast on Rock on the Road.” He pauses as if he’s choosing his words carefully, but then he blurts it out so fast I nearly miss what he says. “I guess we’re probably going to do a short reunion season of Rock on the Road and Kylie wants us to show how happy we are. After the show airs, we can quietly end this and pretend it never happened.”

  “Uh...what?” I realize how stupid I sound, but none of this is making any sense.

  “Stay married to me for six months.”

  I can’t look over at him, but his voice is pleading.

  It’s so funny how this was all I ever wanted when I was younger. The chance to have Adam Wilson begging me to stay married to him? Are you even kidding me about this dream life?

  Except it’s not anything like I imagined it. For one thing, he’s famous, and that’s not something I ever wanted for myself. I still can’t fathom a million views, and it hasn’t even been twelve hours yet.

  And then it gets even worse.

  “There’s something in it for you, too,” he says, hope in his voice.

  I glance over at him with some combination of curiosity and horror. “What?”

  “Twenty thousand dollars.”

  My jaw drops a little. It takes me half a year working hard at the bank to earn that, and he’s offering it like it’s no big deal when it could potentially be life-changing for me.

  But staying married to him could potentially be life-changing, too.

  Who knew that a little tequila could mess everything up so badly?

  And then reality sets in.

  This man is offering to pay me to stay married to him to deceive people into thinking he found his happy ending when in reality he made a drunken mistake. In what universe is that okay?

  Anger rips through me, and that’s what spills from my mouth. “You can’t just bribe me to stay married to you.” I stand and place my hands on my hips. “That’s not how this works.”

  His mouth flaps open and closed like he isn’t sure how to handle my outburst.

  “I don’t want to stay married to you.” I say the words, but I’m not fully sure I mean them. Maybe I wouldn’t have even said them if I didn’t just get off the phone with my mother’s disappointment. It might even be fun to play wife to a rock star for a little while, but the logical side of me wins. “We made a mistake, and we need to figure out how to fix it.”

  “Forty thousand,” he says.

  My teeth grit together. That’s just under what I make in a year. “You can’t buy me into this, Adam.”

  “Everyone has a price.” He says it so nonchalantly, so flippantly, that I can’t really believe it’s him talking. I may not know him that well, but I know him better than that. “Fifty.”

  My shoulders drop, but I just shake my head as I feel tears start to heat behind my eyes.

  Great. Just great. Now I’m going to cry in front of my husband.

  “Look, the mistake has already been made,” he says, standing and taking a step toward me. My hands are still on my hips, and he rubs my biceps. It’s a sweet and endearing motion, one that tosses me slightly off-balance as I try to reconcile the crush I’ve had on him for years with this new version of him I’m
just meeting. “The video is already out there, and your picture is splashed all over the media. Like it or not, your life is going to change. Let’s ride the wave together and have a little fun with the press. No one has to ever know that you also made a little money off of it.”

  “Fifty thousand dollars isn’t a little money, Adam. But that’s not the point. If I pretend to be your wife, what does that even mean? Do I have to pretend in front of my family? Do I quit my job to go on tour with your band? Do I move out of my apartment and into your place? There are too many logistics to think about, and it’s never going to work.”

  He shrugs. “I guess we get a lawyer involved and draw up a contract to define what it means and who knows the truth versus who doesn’t. We’ll let the lawyer make all those decisions for us.”

  “I don’t want someone else deciding what my life is going to look like!” I explode. “I can’t believe you’d even suggest that!”

  He nods and closes his eyes, and then he walks over toward the window. His shoulders droop a little in defeat. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

  I clear my throat after silence floats between us for a few beats. “I’m not saying no.”

  He turns around and opens his mouth to speak, hope back in his eyes. I hold up a hand to stop him before he gets a single word out.

  “I’m not saying yes, either. I’m saying I want to be involved in the decisions, and I’m going to need more than fifty thousand. That’s only one year’s salary for me.”

  “And I’m only asking you for six months,” he points out.

  “Yeah, but what if I have to quit my job and then I can’t find another one after the divorce?” The last word comes out on a squeak as I remember my mother’s words about how Clarkes don’t get divorced. “I’m just looking for an insurance policy.”

  “We’ll draw it into the contract,” he promises.

  I sigh and walk over to the window. We both look out over the Strip, and I can’t believe how much my life has changed since the last time I looked out over this view a mere fifteen hours ago.

  “Let me think about it.”

  He tosses a casual arm around my shoulder and presses a soft kiss to my cheek. “Thank you,” he whispers, his warm breath tickling my ear.

  I shiver as I breathe him in, but I play it off like it’s cold in here when I cross my arms over my chest and rub my arms with my palms...and then I notice much to my dismay that I’m protecting my heart with my arms once again.

  I glance over at him, and I wish I hadn’t.

  The hope in his eyes nearly convinces me. This is obviously important to him, and what really is holding me back?

  It’s not my bank teller job, though I’m up for a promotion to personal banker in January.

  It’s not the fact that I don’t want to be famous by marriage or that my family doesn’t do divorces.

  I think it has more to do with the fact that I actually like Adam. I’ve always liked him, and after our conversation last night—before the wedding, obviously—I felt like we had a real connection. And then we messed it all up by getting married.

  “I’ll leave you alone to think,” he says.

  I press my lips together and give him a small smile and a nod.

  When the door closes with a small click behind him, it’s then that I remember something crucial.

  I actually have nowhere to live since Chad and I broke up just before I left for Vegas.

  Adam isn’t just offering me money. He’s offering the potential to change my future.

  And maybe we pretend for the press...but what if it turns into more?

  CHAPTER 14: ADAM

  “What the fuck happened to your hair?” Brody asks Rascal.

  We’re having an emergency band meeting before we take the stage for our first show at the Mandalay Bay.

  Rascal laughs. “It’s between Amber and me.”

  Brody gives him a look that clearly says he’s stupid and it’s a stupid answer, and then Kylie, who is all business all the time, starts the meeting.

  She fills everyone in on the proposal for Rock on the Road. Dax and Mark are working with our lawyers to get an expedited contract together, and I have a call into them to get our marriage contract drawn up—along with a nondisclosure agreement for everyone in the know about our mistake—just in case Emily agrees.

  It’s been six hours.

  Since I last saw my wife, I’ve had lunch, a little time to get past my hangover, a soundcheck, a fan meet and greet where I precariously dodged questions about my wedding last night, and a quick rehearsal for tonight’s performance.

  I realize I said I’d give her time to think, but what’s there to think about?

  And it’s not just that.

  Rascal showed some of the videos from last night to the other guys in MFB, and they triggered more memories from the time that’s missing.

  It’s just flashes of our night together, a series of images, but some of those images are paired with emotions far stronger than I’m prepared to feel for someone I wasn’t expecting to feel them for.

  My hand slowly grazing up her thigh.

  My mouth on her neck.

  The tight bud of her peaked nipple between my lips.

  The taste of her sweet pussy as my tongue lapped it.

  The feel of her lips wrapping around my dick.

  My cock pushing into her.

  Taking her from behind.

  Kissing her mouth as her soft body moved beneath mine.

  The sound of her moans as I pushed her toward the edge of pleasure.

  Our bodies rocking together.

  Her fingernails clawing at my skin as she moved closer and closer to her orgasm.

  The beat and pulse of her release as it pushed me into my own release.

  We definitely had sex, and there was definitely no condom, and until this very moment, neither one of us remembered it.

  But now that I remember, all I can think about is how I want it to happen again.

  And offering her a place in my life for the next six months isn’t just a shot at getting it to happen again. It’s a shot with her—someone so unlikely to be suited for me, but maybe it’s one of those she’s-always-been-right-in-front-of-me-and-I-didn’t-even-notice-her situations.

  “You’re offering her more than she’s offering you,” Rascal points out, pulling me out of my thoughts. He stares at me. “Are you okay?”

  I’m sure I’m flushed from the memories. I push them away...for now. It’s not the time or the place.

  I glare at him. “I’m fine. She’d be giving up her life for me. I can’t expect her to do that.” I say the words because social cues tell me I should, even though expecting her to do that is exactly what I’m doing.

  “Didn’t you say she’s wanted you since she was a teenager?” Rascal asks, never one to back down.

  “Since before then, actually, but that isn’t the point.” I shake my head at him.

  “What is the point, then?” Brody asks. “Why does this have to be the focus of Rock on the Road Revisited?”

  “Because the first season on the show highlighted love stories. We saw you and Zoey fall in love and break up and then get engaged,” she says to Brody. “We saw Dax and me strengthening our bond. We saw Kane and Sierra face distance through your first headlining tour. We saw the cost that fame and being on the road had on Adam’s relationship with Bree.” She looks over at Rascal. “And Rascal was there, too.”

  Everyone laughs.

  “But if we’re revisiting MFB on this tour, we need that crucial love story angle. What would be better than starting with a wedding and showing the newlyweds in love and ending the season with another wedding?”

  “Another wedding?” Brody asks, tilting his head in confusion.

  Kylie looks over at Dax, who’s smiling.

  “We picked a date,” he says. “March twenty-seventh.”

  “As in three and a half months?” Brody asks, and Dax nods. “Why so soon?”

 
; I look back and forth between Dax and Kylie. He’s grinning, and she’s glowing, and it dawns on me...a quick wedding matched with their desire to push the attention on me and my marriage...

  She’s pregnant.

  She’s pregnant and she wants the heat off of them and on someone else. I haven’t quite figured out why yet, but the pieces always come together.

  I catch Kylie’s eye, and I’m about to ask if that’s the reason when her eyes widen and she shakes her head just slightly. I close my mouth, but that confirms it—and it also confirms that she doesn’t want everyone to know, but she knows I figured it out.

  “Because we can’t wait to spend the rest of our lives together,” she says.

  We’re a band of brothers, and that pronouncement is met with a whole bunch of eye rolling and fake gagging noises.

  “Congratulations,” I finally say.

  “Thanks,” Dax says, and both he and Kylie are smiling so widely that I can’t help but wish I had that.

  I’ve always wished for it, and I had it for a while with Bree...but now I don’t, and if I pretend to be married to someone for the next six months, I won’t have it for at least that long. I’ll be taking myself out of the dating pool for at least that period of time, maybe longer since theoretically I’ll have to have some time to get over my marriage once it ends. And I’ll be forcing Emily out of the dating pool as well, which might not really be fair to her.

  The door opens, and Mitch, our tour manager, walks through. Standing in the doorway is Emily with Amber by her side, and all six heads sitting at the table swing toward the door as we await her answer.

  “Can I, um, talk to Adam?” she asks timidly. Her cheeks are bright red and she looks like she might pass out.

  I stand and start to move toward her.

  “Yes!” my sister blurts. “Her answer is yes!”

  My jaw drops and my heart races in my chest. “Yes?” I ask, my eyes on Emily.

  She shrugs. “Let’s give it a try...pending the contract from a lawyer, of course.”