Page 141 of Save Your Breath
Aleks leaned up on his elbows, still heavy on me in the most delicious way as he swept my hair back, his eyes searching mine. “I said you smell like an Alpine sunset.”
My neck flushed with heat, and I tickled the nape of his neck with my fingertips as a smile found my lips. “Why is that so corny it’s romantic?”
“They tend to go hand in hand.”
I sighed happily as he rested his forehead against mine, both of us touching one another in long, unhurried strokes.
“Was last night a dream?” I asked quietly.
“It was real, Strings.” He kissed me, his lips firm and sure. “All of it was real.”
We stayed that way for a while, the sun rising over the city outside his windows. I knew there were so many people we’d have to answer to today, so many things we’d have to figure out, but I didn’t want to move. I wanted to live right there in that bed with Aleks until the day blended back into night, until I had no choice but to eat, or shower, or use the bathroom.
Too soon, my stomach growled loud and angry, and Aleks chuckled before planting a trail of kisses all along my neck up to my mouth.
“Breakfast?” he asked.
I sighed. “I guess.”
Another smile. Another kiss. Another flip of my heart. “I’m on it,” he announced, and then he reluctantly rolled off me, giving me a glorious view of his backside as he did.
I watched him shrug on briefs and joggers, biting my lip on a smile when he decided to forego his shirt. With a wink and a promise to feed me, he disappeared down the hall.
I flopped back into the sheets, smiling ear to ear as I let my eyes close. I was exhausted, body and mind and soul, but sated in a way I’d never been before.
I debated staying there until he brought a plate of eggs to bed for me, but selfishly, I didn’t want to miss the view of him cooking shirtless. So, I peeled myself out of bed, stopped in the bathroom long enough to pee and use my finger as a toothbrush,and then I ran my nails through my crazy hair to tame it as much as I could.
The kitchen already smelled amazing, potatoes frying in one skillet while bacon sizzled in another. He was just putting a cast iron loaded with eggs, cheese, and vegetables into the oven when I slid onto one of the barstools at the island to watch.
“Came for the show, I see,” he teased me, rounding the island long enough to reward my arrival with a long, toe-curling kiss before he was back to handling the stovetop.
“Couldn’t resist.”
I’d also brought my phone, though I’d set it facedown on the counter in front of me. I stared at it now, knowing I couldn’t hide from the people we owed answers to for long.
“Thinking about Isabella?” Aleks asked as he flipped the bacon.
“Among many others.”
“Call her,” he encouraged. “Let her yell at me. That always makes her feel better.”
I smirked, flipping the phone in my hand. I’d turned on mydo not disturblast night so the thing wouldn’t buzz all night long. As soon as I turned it back to normal, the flurry of notifications I’d missed sprung onto the screen.
All of them faded to the background when I saw a recent text from Austin.
King of Fragile Egos (9 minutes ago):I wanted to give you a warning, but my publicist advised against it, so I’m sorry you’re waking up to this. I’m not doing any of it to hurt you, Mia. It’s just show business. And honestly, you should have known better than to pull something so stupid. It’s not right to lie to your fans for your own benefit. Garrett has a reputation in this industry that he’s worked hard for, and he was fair with his reviews of your album. Just because youcan’t handle a little critique doesn’t give you the right to discredit him the way you and your team have been.
King of Fragile Egos (4 minutes ago):I hope you understand where I’m coming from. Maybe when the dust settles, you and I could get together. I really do miss you, love.
My heart beat faster and harder with each word, denting my ribcage and strangling my breath. I didn’t even click into his thread, just scrolled up to the other notifications I’d missed.
Google alerts and headlines assassinated me one by one, along with a string of missed calls and texts from Isabella, Giana, my agent, my tour manager, my mom, my dad — everyone I knew.
All of them either demanding I call them, asking if I was okay, or a combination of the two.
“Mia?”
I heard my name through what felt like a dense fog, my heart thumping in my ears now as the headlines popped up again and again.
