Where Happiness Begins (Evermore #3)

16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

“ W eren’t they amazing?”

I pull my hair away from my sweaty neck and into a high ponytail, chest still pounding after dancing for the entire two-hour show. Next to me, Lexie and Wren look equally disheveled and equally awestruck. While I don’t get to see Wren as much as I do Lexie since she lives with her husband, Aaron, in Boston, I love her just as much. She has health struggles of her own and understands me in ways that are sometimes difficult to explain.

“Yeah,” Lexie says, fanning herself with her hands. “Been a while since I danced that much.” She was right there with me taking videos of the show and posting them on her social media, which is going to be a win for the band since she has even more followers than I do.

“You’re more than welcome to join more shows during the tour.” I hook my arms with theirs as I lead them toward the backstage area, where the band’s planning to host an after-show party.

“Might take you up on that,” Wren says. “Also, if I wasn’t happily married, I would comment on how hot that lead singer is. ”

“And if I wasn’t getting married in a few weeks, I’d be telling you the same thing,” Lexie adds as we make our way through the rapidly filling VIP room, all of our eyes finding Ethan, a cocktail in one hand and the other resting on some girl’s thigh.

“What about you?” Lexie asks, taking a sip out of her vodka soda. “Isn’t your marriage…open?”

I did tell her that—and told Wren too, when I ended up confessing the whole thing during one of our regular phone calls. I trust her and Aaron as much as I do Lexie and Finn.

Ethan’s boisterous laughter resonates through the room. He’s sitting with the rest of the band, in the middle as usual, a leader with them just like he is on stage. With his boyish features and easy personality, he has everything needed to be the face of a band that’ll make it big. However, when I look at him, I feel nothing, except maybe a sense of friendship. Nothing about him makes me catch my breath or feel even an inkling of lust.

“That’d be a very bad idea.” I grab a water bottle from one of the ice-filled tubs spread throughout the room.

“Why’s that?” Wren says, doing the same.

“We kind of work together, for one.” Carter might be the one who officially “hired” me, but every member of Crash & Burn considers me the band’s media person. “And I don’t think I could do it while being married.” It doesn’t matter that everything about the arrangement is fake and I don’t owe Carter faithfulness—especially since we don’t even sleep together. As stupid as it sounds, I made vows and I don’t think I could break them in good conscience. Plus, I haven’t been with anyone in almost two years. What’s two more?

With a devilish smirk, Lexie asks, “Why? Think your husband might be jealous?” Then her gaze moves to a spot behind me, and that is when I feel it: that telltale pressure on my back as if my skin has been grazed.

I glare at Lexie, who’s still grinning like a cat before peeking behind my shoulder, and sure enough, there he is. The one man who actually makes something flip inside my stomach with a single look, no matter how annoyed it makes me. He’s standing alone in a corner of the room, back leaned against the wall, posture almost casual, but not. I’ve spent enough time with him in the past weeks to know when Carter is truly relaxed and when he’s trying to appear so. And now, with his gaze straight on me, I know this is pretense.

Not knowing what the protocol is for meeting your fake husband out into the wild, I settle on a smile and a wave, which he doesn’t return, only giving me a barely there dip of his head.

My ponytail flies as I whip around and ask, “How long has he been here?” He wasn’t even supposed to come tonight. Or at least I assumed he wasn’t. I attended the last two local shows on my own, so I didn’t think of asking him if he was planning on being here tonight. He has no reason to attend the shows unless the band’s planning on recording right before or after them.

Wren and Lexie both shrug, but while Lexie only gives me a shit-eating grin, Wren answers, “A while. ”

I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean, and I don’t think I’m going to ask.

“And here he comes.” Delight coats Lexie’s voice.

“Time for us to leave anyway,” Wren says, bumping Lexie. “Aaron and Finn are waiting for us.”

“Traitors,” I hiss before giving them both a big hug. “I still love you.”

They turn to leave right as Carter says, “Looking at anything interesting?”

I turn, only to find him much closer than I initially thought. I have to crane my neck to see him in full, all furrowed brows and tight jaw—the man’s going to have the deepest frown wrinkles when he’s older.

I smile at him, not even having to fake it. I don’t know when having him around went from being awkward and tense to like I was hanging out with a good acquaintance, but I’m so glad it did. Then I process his words and follow his gaze, which is stuck on Ethan, who’s cackling once again.

My forehead creases at the way he’s glaring. Is he…is he jealous?

Do I want him to be jealous?

“We were just commenting on how loud he is,” I lie for some unknown reason. The girls were right. I did say we could date other people. Carter probably has. He might even have hooked up with some in my home. Still, I don’t feel like telling him about the conversation we were having .

Carter hums, attention still lost somewhere in the room, and to make sure we can move on from the subject of Ethan, I say, “Didn’t know you’d be coming tonight.”

He shoves his hands in his pockets. “The house felt lonely.”

It takes a second for me to wrap my head around his words, and my face lights up. Four words that are so simple, and yet I think it’s the most true, personal thing he’s ever said to me.

“You ready to go?” he asks.

“Oh.” We didn’t come in the same car, so I’m not sure why he’s asking. “No, I’m gonna stay a bit.”

“All right then,” he says in that gruff voice of his that always finds a way to crawl under my skin. “See you at home.”

“Wait.” I grab his arm, then realize we might not be at the stage of casual touching yet when his muscles tense under me. I let him go. “Stay.” I’m not sure what pushes me to say it except that it seems like we’ve just gotten to a good place and I don’t want him to feel like he has to run away because I’m there.

He glances around the room. “Not really my scene.”

“Just a few minutes.”

His gaze flits to me, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “Five.”

“Ten.”

“No.”

“Twenty, and that’s my last offer.” I wink, then lead him to where the band is sitting before he can change his mind.

“You’re unbelievable,” he says, following .

“Why, thank you,” I say with a dumb smile. “Now sit down and have fun.” I lean closer to him so I can whisper, “I think you might need it.”

“I can’t believe you thought they wouldn’t find out about it,” Emmett says thirty minutes later with a dumbfounded expression.

Everyone laughs at that comment because really, Bong should have expected it.

“I don’t know, man, I’m not good at that kind of stuff,” Bong says, letting his head hang back.

“Good at not dating two girls who are related at the same time?” I say with a chuckle at the same time Carter deadpans, “You’re a dumbass.”

The laughter that comes out of Emmett is so high pitched, it makes the whole situation even funnier.

The room is full of maybe twenty people who are either chatting in different corners with a drink in their hands or playing a game of poker on a table at the far back. Music is playing loud enough to create a warm ambiance but low enough that we can speak without it being a cacophony. I’m sitting next to Joe, with Carter leaned against the armrest next to me, arms crossed, his bicep brushing the top of my head with each of his movements. Everyone seems pretty buzzed, except for Carter and me. While I ordered a cocktail that was “as light as you can make it,” Carter got himself a soda. When I raised an eyebrow at him after ordering, he said, “I don’t drink.” And that was that.

Admittedly, I haven’t attended a lot, but tonight’s my favorite after-party of the tour. The energy is palpable in the air, like everyone is still reeling from the adrenaline rush of the show. Even Carter seems to have gotten more relaxed, which should probably earn me a trophy.

“Can I join you for a minute?”

We all turn to a man who must be in his early forties, with black gelled hair and thick-framed glasses, wearing a dress shirt and jeans that are a little too skinny for my taste.

“Vince, hey,” Ethan says, lifting his beer at him.

“Great show tonight, guys,” Vince says, making eye contact with each member of the band. “Looking promising for the rest of the tour.”

“And hopefully the sales will follow,” Bong says.

“Cheers to that,” Ethan says, once again lifting his drink to all of us. When his eyes meet mine, he stands. “Oh, Vince, this is Lil. She’s the one I was telling you about. Lil, this is our agent, Vince.”

Vince turns to me. “Right. You’re the one who’s been putting Crash & Burn on the map.”

I stand to meet his extended hand and shake it. “Nice to meet you. And I haven’t been doing much.” Which is pretty much the truth. Except for posting here and there and attending shows to gather content, I haven’t done anything, only showcasing their talent .

Heat builds behind me as a heavy arm falls onto my shoulders, fingers tickling my arm. I don’t need to look to know whose arm it belongs to. I recognize his smell—bergamot and something spicy. I recognize his presence too, like something my body is attuned to.

“Carter,” Vince greets, voice solemn.

The grump doesn’t say anything, probably only giving him one of his usual nods. Goose bumps rise on my arms as the tips of Carter’s fingers trace my arm, the movement so careless, so small, yet it feels like my entire nervous system redirects to this patch of skin, like I consist of only this.

“Your girl’s somewhat of a big thing, apparently,” Vince says.

Carter’s body moves even closer to me, the heat of his skin making me burn as his free hand falls onto my hip and carefully squeezes.

I feel like both tensing away from him and leaning into his touch. He hasn’t been this close since our livestream, and I hate that I like it. Hate that I wish, even for only a second, that he didn’t have to wait for an opportunity to fake our relationship to touch me.

And yet I don’t know why he’s faking so well right now. This is different than when we pretended for my grandmother. Then I did my best to act as in love as possible with a brush here and a squeeze there, trying to fool someone who could easily read through me. We touched because it was necessary, and it seemed to work. Nan didn’t bat an eye, only gushing over how handsome Carter was and how she would “never forgive me” for not telling her about him first. But here, we could easily convince Vince that Carter and I are a real couple without touching. He doesn’t know us. We could be a private, modest couple.

Yet modest is the opposite of how we are right now. Carter is so close that the whiskers of beard scratch my temple, hands tracing shapes on my body that feel like they’re being tattooed on my flesh.

I’m warm. Too warm.

I also don’t want this moment to end.

“By the way, Vince, about the tour…” Ethan begins.

Their manager ends up taking a seat next to the singer, and while I go to sit back in my place, Carter gets ahead of me and steals my spot.

I watch him for a moment before he subtly taps his thigh.

Oh God.

This is a bad idea. I’m already too riled up. I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to pretend his touch doesn’t affect me.

I can’t hesitate too long, though. There are still people in the room who, for all intents and purposes, believe Carter and I are married, and it wouldn’t make any sense for a wife to refuse to sit in her husband’s lap.

In the end, he doesn’t allow me to question it any longer, instead tugging me by the hand until I fall back onto him, his scent enveloping me even more than before.

His breath tickles my ear before he whispers, “Relax.”

I turn, then whisper-hiss, “You relax.”

“Thought you wanted this to be believable. Not afraid of FBI spies anymore?”

That man. That freaking man .

I last all of one second of seriousness before elbowing him, then lean my back against his chest, the picture of a perfect couple.

“Good girl,” he whispers against my skin, then once again rests his hand on my hips, the contact as electric as ever.

My whole body is stiff as a rock. I shift on his lap, trying to find a position that allows for the least contact between our bodies, but in such a small seat, there aren’t many options.

He squeezes my hip in a contact that probably looks loving but that feels like a warning. “I’d stop doing that if I were you.”

“Hm?” I say, turning to him with my hair curtaining us away from the rest of the crowd.

He inhales sharply. “Stop. Fidgeting.”

And that’s when I feel it.

He’s hard under me.

If I was hot before, I’m now a furnace, body frozen over him.

“Want me to get up?” I whisper-shout.

He clears his throat. “Please don’t.”

There’s something in his voice that sounds a whole lot like embarrassment. It makes me smirk. Suddenly, I don’t feel like the vulnerable one in this scenario.

“You started this, you know,” I tell him.

“Oh, believe me, I know.”

“That’ll teach you,” I say. Then, because I apparently love torturing him, I shift slightly, making him hiss through his teeth. His hand clenches tighter around my hip, but it doesn’t succeed in keeping me still .

“Hey, lovebirds, what are you whispering over there?” Bong shouts at us.

I straighten, but my gaze shifts behind me. “Carter was just telling me about some water damage at home. A big pipe leaked, apparently.”

Carter sputters something that he covers with a cough while Bong says, “Shit, really?” The rest of the guys chime in on their meager experience with plumbing, but my attention rests on Carter, who gives a small shake of his head.

“What did I do to get tied to a brat like you again?”

I grin. “I don’t know. Must’ve been really good in a past life.” Then, for good measure, I shift again, ever so slightly.

“All right, you’re done,” he says, making us both climb to our feet, keeping me in front of him.

I laugh, then go to walk away. “Oh, wait, I need to—”

He clamps an arm around my middle to keep me close as a shield, then says in a low voice, “You’re the devil.”

He’s way too fun to mess with. I look up at him, then whisper, “Aren’t you lucky to be stuck with me then.”