Page 54 of Rock Strong

But I didn’t.

She only knew the persona, the rock star, the legend—the man who wasn’t real. The actual man, the one I had stupidly fallen in love with, was an insecure, talented, geeky drama class thespian singer-actor whose high school girlfriend had suggested he start a band with a new persona, then when he finally saw his dreams and hard work coming to fruition, he got a tattoo symbolizing her dedication to him, then promptly dumped her ass.

And I fell for him, thinking he could handle being a one-woman man.

Ugh.

I Love Lucy was over, so I switched through the channels, stopping briefly on What Not to Wear, watching, aghast, as Stacy and Clinton transformed an everyday book nerd into a rock chic diva. They should’ve just left her alone and called the show Be Who You Fucking Are. My red minidress that night had been similar, and while it still lay crumpled in a ball inside my still-packed suitcase, I’d probably burn it in a bonfire atop our brownstone apartment.

Then came the worst part about the Point Break fangirl—she went on and on about how Liam Collier and Giselle Vici were on-and-off boyfriend and girlfriend, how cute it would be if they actually got together and married one day. What a wedding that would be! Yay! I’d said. Though she was jealous, she had to admit. I had to tell her at that point that I was very tired and needed to sleep, which was why I’d gotten a red-eye flight, so I could sulk here against the window, but her post-show high was difficult to come down from, and she added, “But he was seen with that girl, that cello player last week. Did you see those pics?”

“No,” I’d told her. “I don’t follow Point Break gossip.”

“Well, you kind of look like her,” she’d mumbled, pulling out her phone to confirm.

I’d turned my face toward the window at that point, murmuring, “She’s not me.”

Happy Point Break Girl thumbed through her phone to summon up the now notorious pic of Liam and me touching hands in the sleeper bus parking lot, tilted her head, and said, “Yeah, you’re right. You’re much prettier.” She’d shrugged. “Huh. I wonder what that was all about anyway. Don’t think they’re together anymore.”

She got that right.

I had no idea what it was either.

A blip. A hiccup in my plans. A cruel joke by the universe to see how much I could fall deeply in love with someone who would never be mine. A man who freaked after being with me and scampered off like a baby deer hearing a gunshot.

Not nice, Universe. Not nice at all.

A text chimed, and then another.

I ignored them and finished my soup.

Chapter 18

Liam

I fucked up. I accepted it.

I wanted Abby back. I couldn’t deny it.

I didn’t even want to.

And this time I wanted her back in my life forever.

I wanted a commitment. I wanted to make promises to her and keep them.

I was no longer the slightest bit unsure of my ability to do that.

I’d known it back when I’d kissed Giselle and thought only of Abby. I’d known it when I saw her face and panicked at the thought of losing her.

And I’d known it for the hellish time we’d been apart, missing her with every fiber of my being.

I thought of Abby at all hours of the night. I couldn’t sleep.

I texted her all the time.

She ignored me every time.

After the Minneapolis show, I raved and ranted and wandered from room to room backstage, looking for anyone who would listen.

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