Page 58 of Rockstar's Accidental Marriage

She rolls her eyes, but I catch the faint look of pride in her blue eyes.

“Well,” she says, her tone mock-serious, “someone has to make it feel like home.”

And I realize that’s exactly what this place is.

Home.

Noticing Emily shiver from the stiff breeze, I pull her toward me and wrap my arms around her, encasing her in my warmth; I realize how natural this feels now. Her making our house a home, me keeping her warm–we’ve fallen into these roles without even noticing.

She gives me an appreciative look. “Thanks,” she murmurs quietly, resting her back against my chest.

“Em, you’ve made this place special. Not just for us but for the baby.” My voice low and sincere.

“Thanks, Sam,” she says softly, a warm look in her eyes as she snuggles further into my embrace.

We stand comfortably like that until I finish my beer, and the harsh wind forces us back inside the warmth of our home.

The next day, the ocean breeze is calmer; a gentle hum of waves is the only sound, and fresh air flows through the open windows.

Emily sits cross-legged on the couch, her laptop open in front of her, scrolling through what I assume is some kind of band spreadsheet or itinerary. She’s been at it for over an hour, her focus unbreakable.

I lean against the kitchen counter, sipping on a cold bottle of water and watching her. There’s something mesmerizing about the way she works—so focused and determined.

But I can feel it in the air: the tension. It’s not the kind that makes you want to slam doors or shout, but the quieter kind that sneaks up on you, coiling in your chest and making everything feel tenser than it should.

A couple of months. That’s all we’ve had.

The band’s downtime is almost over, and reality is creeping back in, no matter how much we’ve tried to ignore it.

“You okay?” I ask, crossing the room and sitting down beside her.

She glances at me, her lips curving into a soft smile. “Yeah. Just finishing up a few things.”

“Already diving back in, huh?”

“Somebody has to keep you guys in line,” she teases, closing her laptop and setting it aside.

I chuckle, but the sound feels hollow. There’s a weight in the air between us tonight.

The laughter fades, and the silence that follows feels even denser than before. I glance at her, watching the way her gaze drifts toward the window, her expression thoughtful.

“What’s on your mind, Em?” I ask.

She shrugs, but her brow furrows slightly. “Going back to work, balancing the band, us and the baby... It just feels like a lot.”

“It is a lot,” I admit. “But I’m sure we’ll figure out the best way to handle it.”

She looks at me then, her eyes searching mine, and for a moment, I wonder if she’s going to argue. But instead, she nods, a small smile tugging at her lips.

“Yeah,” she says softly. “You’re right—we will.”

My chest expands at her simple words of agreement.

The next morning, the tension lingers, but we fall back into our usual rhythm. Emily is up early, tending to her plants while I make breakfast. The sunlight catches in her hair, and for a moment, I just watch her, struck by how effortlessly she can turn me on.

“Don’t you have enough plants?” I say with a mock frown, setting a mug of tea on the railing beside her.

She glances at me and quips, “You can never have too many.”

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