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Perfect. I can take out my frustration on the drums.
But when I yank open the door, I freeze.
Because there, in tight black jeans and one of my stolen Wild Band t-shirts, stands Lacey.
Her hair is mussed like she’s been running her hands through it. There are shadows under her eyes, but her smile—God, her smile lights up the whole damn room.
“Surprise?” she says softly.
I can’t move. Can’t breathe. “But... the talk shows—?”
She steps closer, close enough that I can smell her perfume. “I may have convinced Rachel that doing a surprise appearance at my fiancé‘s Vegas concert would generate more buzz than another morning show interview.”
“You...” I shake my head, still processing. “You’re actually here.”
Her fingers trace my jaw. “I’m actually here.”
I don’t care that we’re in a hallway. Don’t care that anyone could walk by. I pull her against me, crushing my mouth to hers.
She tastes like coffee and airplane mints and home.
“Jesus,” I breathe against her lips. “I missed you.”
She presses closer, her body fitting perfectly against mine. “Show me how much.”
My grip tightens on her hips. “Soundcheck—“
“Can wait.” Her teeth graze my bottom lip. “I didn’t fly across the country just to watch you practice drums.”
A throat clears behind us.
Sam stands in the doorway, grinning. “Actually, soundcheck can’t wait. But...” He checks his watch. “You’ve got five minutes.”
Lacey laughs against my neck. “Only five minutes?”
I already have her backed against the dressing room wall. “I can work with that.”
Sam rolls his eyes and closes the door, leaving us alone.
Later, after soundcheck, after I’ve thoroughly messed up her hair and she’s left marks on my shoulders, we lay tangled in the too-small couch of my dressing room.
“So,” I trace patterns on her bare shoulder. “We should have about three days.”
She hums, pressing closer. “Actually, I negotiated for a week. I told Rachel it would be good PR to document some ‘behind the scenes’ moments of life on tour with my future husband.”
I pull back to look at her. “An entire week?”
Her smile turns wicked. “Think you can handle that much... PR?”
My answering kiss tells her exactly how I feel about that.
Maybe distance makes the heart grow fonder, but having her here, in my arms?
That makes everything else fade away.
The concert that night feels different. Electric. Every beat, every rhythm pulses with renewed energy because I know she’s watching from the wings.
Between songs, I catch glimpses of her—the way she moves to our music and how she lights up during her favorite tracks. At one point, she catches me staring and deliberately licks her lips with a wink, making me miss a beat.