Page 56 of Love Deep

She nods. “He’s too big for that couch,” she says. “You should have let him sleep in your bed.”

I don’t reply. I’m not sure if my daughter’s playing matchmaker or just worried about Fisher’s back.

“Let’s get you back in bed.”

“Will Fisher stay and have breakfast with us?”

“Maybe,” I say. There’s a knock at the door. “You stay there. I’m going to see who that is.”

I head out and Fisher’s already at the door. He moves to let Beau in, but someone’s with him. A woman. She looks familiar. I narrow my eyes.

“Er, hi,” I say, as I head over to meet them.

“How is she?” Beau asks.

My gaze flits between him and the woman he’sbrought with him. “Much better, thank you. I just took her temperature and it’s exactly one hundred degrees. And it’s been five hours since she had any Tylenol or ibuprofen.”

“Great,” Beau says. “This is my wife, Vivian,” he says.

Everything clicks into place, and I realize why the woman looks familiar. Her pictures are plastered all over my daughter’s bedroom walls. “You’re married to Vivian Cross?” I can barely get the words out. I pull my jaw from the floor and glance over at Fisher, and then back at the pop superstar standing in my living room. She might be the most famous woman in America. “You’re Fisher’s artist at the Colorado Club.”

“Guilty,” she says. “I thought I’d pop down and say hi. But I don’t want to wake up Riley.”

“Oh my… Riley’s not sleeping. And she’s going to perkallthe way up when she sees you.”

“My wife is medicine in human form,” Beau says with such pride that it catches me by surprise a little. It’s so nice to see someone so proud of his wife. Riley’s dad never really liked my art. Told me I needed a real job.

“Maybe I need to…” Should I warn my daughter? “Come on in,” I say, leading global megastar Vivian Cross down my cramped, dark hallway to see my virus-ridden daughter.

“Riley, Dr. Beau has come to check on you, and he brought his wife.”

Riley watches as we file into her room, and when she sees Vivian, her mouth falls open and she leaps to her feet. “Wait, what? What is happening?”

“Hey, Riley!” Vivian says. “I’m not going to hug you if that’s okay. You got something nasty, and I’m busy in the studio up at the Colorado Club recording my new album.”

“You’re recording your new album in Star Falls? Where I live?”

“Sure am. It’s the prettiest place I’ve ever been to. Totally inspiring.” Vivian glances around the room at all the Vivian Cross posters and she elbows her husband. “See, this is me hot rather than covered in baby vomit.”

“Did you bring your baby?” Riley asks.

“She’s up at the Club sleeping,” Vivian says. “I just wanted to drop by and say hi!”

“You’re my favorite ever singer,” Riley says. “I know all your songs by heart.”

“You do?” Vivian looks shocked—the consummate professional. “Which one is your favorite?”

“Oh, I love ‘London Love Letter.’ Or ‘Darling it’s You.’ Or ‘This Time.’ All of them really.”

“I can vouch for that,” I say. “And I’m pretty sure I know most of your lyrics, too.”

Vivian laughs. “It’s nice to keep it in the family.”

“Do you think you might move to Star Falls?” Riley asks.

“We live in London,” Vivian says. “That’s home. But I’ll definitely be visiting Star Falls again.”

“Have you been to the Galaxy Grill yet?” Riley asks. “They have the best pancakes. And Fisher likes the waffles, don’t you, Fisher?” Riley raises her voice as she talks to Fisher.