Page 102 of Rockstar's Accidental Marriage

“Come on,” he says finally, his voice gentle. “Let’s go inside.”

He opens my door and helps me out, his hand steady as he gently guides me to the house.

Sam turns to me, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “You need to rest,” he says softly.

“I’m fine,” I insist, but the exhaustion in my voice betrays me.

He smiles a crooked, boyish grin that makes my heart flip. “Humor me.”

He then scoops me gently into his arms and carries me upstairs. When we reach the bedroom, he helps me out of my clothes and slips off his. Crawling into bed with me, he reaches out and pulls me close. Cradling me tenderly against his chest.

“Emily,” he says, his voice husky with emotion. “I’m going to spend the rest of my life proving how much I love you. You and our baby—my girls—you’re my life now.”

Tears spill down my cheeks, and I laugh softly, swiping at them. “You don’t have to prove anything, Sam. I already know.”

He leans down, pressing a tender kiss to my lips, and in that moment, everything feels right.

As he pulls back, he smiles. “Good. But I’m still going to try.”

I laugh, and the sound is light and free. “You make me happy, Sam Ryder,” I simply say as I rest my head on his shoulder.

Tomorrow will bring its challenges, but for tonight, I’m exactly where I’m meant to be—safe in the arms of the man I love–and who loves me.

With the whirlwind caused by Jeb and Derrick’s arrest, the band has been inundated with requests for comments and interviews.Of course, I accepted as many spots as possible to take advantage of the free publicity.

However, with all the hoopla, our Vegas wedding is again plastered across social media. Every news outlet and fan page seem to have the same image: me in a simple white sundress and Sam in his leather jacket, standing in front of the Elvis impersonator in full costume.

Sam keeps gently asking me if I remember anything more about our wedding, but the photos don’t spark anything except frustration. It’s like looking at a picture of someone else’s life. I’m in the frame, but the details of that night feel just out of reach.

He hasn’t given me the wedding band he had crafted, and I don’t know if I’m relieved or disappointed. It’s a question I’ve been avoiding, as knowing he loves me is more than enough. The last few days have been wonderful, and I know it will only get better as our love seems to deepen every day.

Today, Sam is scheduled for an interview with a wildly popular talk show host, and I’m looking forward to joining him afterward for lunch.

I’m walking through the lobby on my way to the studio when a child catches my attention. He’s tugging at his mother’s sleeve, pointing eagerly at a bubble gum dispenser near the elevators. The mother hands him a coin, and the boy scrambles over to twist the knob. The plastic container with the prize inside rollsdown the chute and skitters across the floor with a distinct, hollow clatter.

That sound—I stop, my breath catching in my throat as the noise triggers something deep inside me—like a key turning in a long-locked door. The memories flood back with startling clarity, each detail precious and perfect.

The neon lights of Vegas are bright and dizzying. Sam’s hand in mine as he pulled me down the Strip, both of us laughing deliriously. The bubble gum dispenser inside the casino, where I’d impulsively turned the knob, declaring it a sign when the prize inside was a plastic ring. Sam’s lopsided grin as he kissed me. Then, trying himself for a ring, but it took another half a dozen tries before his ring came down the shoot and skittered across the floor. We laughingly chased after it, scooping it up in triumph. Later at the wedding chapel, as we lovingly slid the bands onto each other’s fingers, the words he whispered as he held my hand: “I love you, Emily.”

It all comes rushing back. The way his voice softened when he said, “I’ve loved you since that day you ate that silly cupcake.” The way I answered, “I love you too, Sam,” before pulling him into a kiss that promised him forever. My eyes blur with quietly unshed tears as the memories settle into place, clear and vivid. It wasn’t a drunken mistake. It was perfect: romantic, silly, and entirely us.

The enormity of it leaves me unsteady on my feet. I blink rapidly, pulling myself back to the present. Reaching into my purse, I pull out the plastic ring and slip it onto my finger with a softsmile. Sam is waiting for me at the studio, and now, more than ever, I need to see him.

When I arrive at the recording studio, the receptionist directs me toward the set where Sam sits with the host. As I approach, I catch the tail end of the hostess’s dramatic, bubbly voice. She’s known for her over-the-top gestures and love of surprises.

A crew member approaches, and I’m ushered forward. To my shock, the hostess turns to the camera with a gleeful smile and announces, “And here she is, the woman everyone’s been dying to hear from—Emily Wild Ryder! Come on out, Emily!”

Sam’s head snaps around, his expression a mix of surprise and concern as I’m practically pushed onto the stage. The audience bursts into applause, and I feel like a deer in headlights.

“Emily, thank you so much for joining us,” the hostess gushes, motioning to the seat beside Sam. “Now, I know this is unexpected, but everyone’s been talking about your Vegas whirlwind romance and that unforgettable wedding. We just have to know, was it as spontaneous as it looked?”

I glance at Sam, whose expression is unreadable. Taking a deep breath, I let the memory of that night guide my words.

“It was spontaneous,” I begin, my voice steady despite the butterflies in my stomach. “It was also… very romantic. The most romantic night of my life.”

The hostess eagerly leans forward, her eyes wide. “Tell us about it, please!”

I smile, my gaze lingering on Sam, and everything feels right. The words naturally flow because they're true—they've always been true.

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