Page 68 of Love is a Harmony
The smile gracing Stella’s face made everything worth it. Letting her stay up late. Performing without Jo.
Everything.
She smiled so rarely these days he’d do everything to keep it there.
Noah wiped sweat from his face as the small crowd—which had grown over the last forty-five minutes—chanted his name. He gave them a wave and bent to pick Stella up, wrapping her in a hug.
She wiggled free. “You’re gross.”
He laughed, looking down at his sweat-soaked t-shirt and ripped jeans. He’d taken off his leather jacket after the first song.
Dax clapped him on the back. “Definitely gross, bro. This is why I don’t do concerts.”
Noah snorted. “Sweat is not why you don’t do them. You’re just scared the fans won’t love you anymore if they see your ugly mug.”
Stella jabbed him in the stomach. “Dax isn’t ugly.”
“What she said.” Dax crossed his arms with a smirk. “Stella and I are friends now, so be nice to both of us.”
Noah shook his head with a laugh. The reserved Dax looked ridiculous mirroring the pose of a kid.
A security guard walked toward them. “We have a problem, Mr. Clarke.”
“What is it?”
“The street outside the bar is flooded with people and paparazzi. It seems your show made its way onto social media.”
This was what the label wanted—to keep him in the public eye until Jo had her baby. He had to somehow muster up the energy to deal with them.
Dax turned to the guard. “Are they out back?”
“Not yet. We have the back parking lot blocked off.”
Noah pursed his lips. “Get a car to take this man—” he couldn’t reveal his identity, “—and my niece to his place.” He looked to Dax. “This might take a while. Can Stella go to bed at your place? I’ll pick her up in the morning.” It was a big ask, but there was no way he wanted to subject Stella to the craziness out front.
Dax shrugged. “Of course.” He glanced down at Stella. “Do you like ice cream?”
She nodded, sucking her lip into her mouth.
“Good, because I happen to know the best ice cream shop we can stop at on the way home.”
Noah put a hand on his arm. “Thank you.” He bent to look Stella in the eye. “I don’t want to wake you up late, but I’ll be there in the morning, okay?”
She nodded again, and he ruffled her hair. “All right, get out of here.”
As soon as they were out back, Noah passed the techs packing up the camera equipment. Two guards flanked him as he pushed through the door.
The roar of the crowd greeted him. He’d never forget this feeling, their approval. The first time he’d stepped out on stage and realized people knew who he was all those years ago was burned into the back of his mind.
“What time is it?” he asked one of the guards.
“Almost nine.”
He’d insisted on an early set so Stella could be there, and the bar had stopped people from coming in while he was on stage to avoid the place from quickly going over capacity.
So, they’d waited out here in the darkened L.A. street. Cars whirred down the road, past crowded sidewalks.
Noah raised a hand in greeting, and they screamed louder. “Hello.” He lifted his voice to be heard above the din. Americans loved his accent for some reason he’d never been able to fathom. They loved when he called them “love” or “mate” as if he was some exotic creature because he came from across the pond.
