Page 75 of First Verse

My friends exchange a loaded glance that makes me want to knock their heads together. Then Rye shakes his head. “I might have missed him, though. It’s crowded out there.”

Thereis a massive tent in the backyard of the opulent mansion we’ve been sequestered in since our sound check an hour ago.

When our new manager reached out with the invitation for a private showcase, she definitely downplayed the event’s magnitude. Instead of the intimate setting we imagined, there are at least a hundred people milling outside beneath string lights and space heaters. And not one of them looks like anyone we’d see at our usual shows. Instead of jeans and T-shirts, it’s cocktail dresses, suits, and champagne flutes.

I’ve already talked Lily out of hyperventilating twice. My own pre-show jitters are muted, smothered by a different worry. All I can think about is Wilder, who said he’d come early to see me before the show.

I check my phone for the hundredth time, but there are no new messages after the one I sent him before we came inside.

Text me when you get here and I’ll send Rye to find you. Xo

While the downstairs suite offered for our use looks like it belongs in a five-star hotel, the cell service is shit. I have no idea if he’s tried to call or text me back, and when I tried to sneak back outside, a harried woman wearing a headset all but shoved me back into our room.

“Did you try calling him?” asks Rye.

I bite my cheek so I don’t snap at him.

“No service,” Lily answers for me, “and no one we’ve asked knows the Wi-Fi password.”

Rye shifts his weight. “If you want, I can look again. Not sure if I can make it back before you go on, though.”

I shake my head and force a smile. “Don’t worry about it. I’d rather you hang here. I’m sure Wilder is out there somewhere.”

He promised.

I move to the nearest window and twitch aside the curtains, squinting through fading daylight at the tent. We’re too far away for me to make out faces, but I don’t see anyone with Wilder’s distinctive height. Not even a flash of Eddie’s neon-green hair, which would at least reassure me since the whole band is supposed to be here.

Trust him.

Closing my eyes tightly, I summon memories of the last two days, wrapping them around my heart like a shield. Wilder and I spent every spare minute together. Scattered between beautifully mundane activities like playing guitar, soaking in my hot tub, and his first charmingly disastrous attempt at making me dinner, we had frank conversations about what each of us needs to feel secure in our relationship.

While there were moments I could tell he was uncomfortable—namely when I told him I want to tell my parents about us—he didn’t have a single panic attack.

And the last twonights… even thinking about them sends currents of heat through my body. I thought sex with him had been incredible before, but having him stare into my eyes and whisper he loves me while he moves inside me? I’m forever altered by it. He’s always been a part of me, but now he’s in every breath I take and every beat of my heart.

The final memory I summon, possibly the most profound one, is falling asleep in his arms late last night, only to realize this morning that I’d forgotten to turn on the main nightlight in my bedroom.

He’ll be here.

After heaving a sigh that fogs the glass, I turn and drop onto the couch beside my purse, tossing my useless phone into its depths.

“I need to, uh, use the restroom,” Rye says, pivoting on his heel and heading into one of the adjacent bedrooms.

Lily sits next to me and hands me my giant bottle of water. I take it and fiddle with the cap as I stare sightlessly across the room.

“You good, Ev?”

Her nervous voice is a welcome gust of wind clearing my polluted thoughts.God, I’m such an asshole.I grab her bouncing knee, pressing down until it stills, and hold her gaze until the worry in her eyes shifts to relief.

“I’m good. All warmed up. You good?”

She nods. “I am now that your bossy-diva face is on.”

I smirk. “Ready to explode some brains?”

A smile teases her burgundy-painted lips. “Hope they have a good cleaning service.”

As my laughter fades, we hear voices in the hallway outside coming closer. Along with the confident tones of our new manager, Mallory Simmons, we recognize the rapid-fire speech of our equally new publicist, Anita Allman.

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