Page 63 of Ride By Your Side

“Let me hear you, Evergreen Grove!” Veronica calls into the microphone as she walks across the platform, her stage presencetaking over as if this is her concert and we all showed up just for her and everyone that performed before were the opening acts. The way the audience hangs on her every word, hooting and hollering as they cheer, is truly something. It’s clear she has them wrapped around her finger and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t right there with them, utterly transfixed. She has my full attention—every last bit of it.

“My name is Ronnie Prescott, and this is ‘Bed Chem,’ by Sabrina Carpenter,” she says into the microphone before pointing and nodding toward the man in charge of the music.

I can’t say I know this song, since old-school rock and the occasional country tune are more my thing, but it’s hard not to bob my head to the beat, especially as I focus on the lyrics coming out of her pretty little mouth.

It’s not just her confidence—it’s the way she owns the stage, strutting effortlessly in her short pink plaid dress paired with a matching off-the-shoulder sweater that teases just the right amount of skin. Since when did a bare shoulder have the power to be this damn sexy?

It’s not even about how beautiful she looks, but the way she all but commands the attention of everyone in the room as she moves her body. What I wouldn’t give for this to be a private show just for me, especially since many of the moves she’s doing are similar to the ones she did when we were in Vegas on our wedding night, her hands gliding suggestively across her body, the memory stirring a familiar warmth that goes straight to my groin.

She turns her back toward the crowd, tossing her short brown locks as she bends and looks at us over her shoulder while shaking her ass. Sitting up straight, I attempt to adjust myself. This is karaoke night, for God’s sake. I shouldn’t be this turned on—but then again, everything she does is sexy as hell. How did I miss this all before? She’s not only mesmerizing me withher body and looks, but she’s also just so damn unexpectedly charming, cute, funny, and downright adorable—qualities I’ve never wanted to associate with Veronica Prescott until now.

It certainly isn’t helping that she keeps looking in my direction, something I doubt is going unnoticed by the nosy-ass crowd, especially as she sends a playful wink in my direction.

While her performance is a thousand times better than anyone else’s who has been on stage, a part of me is relieved as the music comes to an end and the applause rings out. It’s not surprising that it’s the loudest ovation that anyone has gotten all night, especially with Ford and Blair standing up and cheering extra loud.

“That’s my girl!” Blair yells, pointing a finger at her best friend as Ronnie blows her a kiss in return.

I try not to let myself get jealous over the gesture. As much as I’d love to have all her attention focused solely on me, I know it’s for the best that she isn’t blowing kisses my way with so many watchful and judgmental eyes. The wink she gave was more than enough—or at least, it should be. However, when it comes to Veronica, I’m not sure anything will ever feel like quite enough. I’m always going to selfishly want more.

Veronica takes in the applause till the last possible second. Giving one final bow, she grabs the end of her dress and offers a small curtsy before handing off the microphone to the emcee for the evening as he announces Blair’s name next.

“Looks like I’m up,” Blair declares with an excited smile, pushing up from her spot before Ford sends her off with a kiss. I feel like I’m intruding on something private as they let the moment linger a little too long.

Not wanting to feel like some creep, I let my eyes sweep the room in search of Veronica. Finally, I see her standing just to the side of the small stage where someone seems to have stopped her.

I try not to overthink it, though it’s hard when that familiar sting of jealousy creeps in, burning just a little hotter this time. She’s easily the most gorgeous woman in this bar. Of course, other men would want her attention, but just because they want it doesn’t mean I’m okay with them having it. Over my dead body—or theirs. Either works.

My shoulders stiffen as I tilt my neck from side to side, trying to loosen the building tension. I should give her privacy, but my eyes have other plans as they roam back toward where the man still has her cornered. My eyes narrow as I finally realize what’s happening, unsure how I completely misread the situation. That isn’t just some random nobody talking to her—it’s her ex.

“No fucking way,” I growl, alerting Blair and Ford that something is amiss, and they steer their attention toward Ronnie and Pete.

“Oh,hellno!” Blair says as the three of us push our way through the crowd.

“What do you think you’re doing?” I say, shoving Pete to the side, paying little attention to how roughly I do it. This man deserves none of my care or respect.

“I should be asking you the same question,” Pete spits back as I move to stand between the exes.

“I’m only going to ask this one more time: What thehelldo you think you are doing?” I ask more sternly, making sure to enunciate my words.

“I’m talking to my fiancée. I’m pretty sure that’s allowed,” Pete calmly answers as he stands taller, folding his arms across his pathetically scrawny chest.

“Ex-fiancée,” Blair cuts in as she moves to stand next to Veronica, who, unsurprisingly, has shrunk behind me, making herself as small as possible.

“Whatever. I still think I’m allowed to get some answers, especially after seeing her prance around the stage like the littleslut I always knew she was,” Pete snarls, attempting to look around me so he can meet Veronica’s eyes as he says it.

With no hesitation, I ram my forearm into his neck and pin him against the wall.

“That’s mywifeyou’re talking about,” I snap, the words leaving my mouth before I even fully register what I’m confessing. But it doesn’t matter. No one disrespects the people I care about—especially not her. She is my wife after all, and I’ll always have her back, no matter what.

“Your what?” Pete chokes out, seeming more worried about my word choice than the fact that I’m only seconds away from pummeling that pathetic rat-like face of his.

“You heard me, and nobody disrespects my wife like that, so you better think long and hard about what you intend to say next,” I warn, my eyes boring into his horrified face as I keep him pinned, only loosening the tension a tiny bit.

“So, what? You’re not only a whore, but a cheating whore?” Pete asks, clearly disregarding my threat.

Fire and rage roar within me, every muscle coiled with the intent of making him pay. But as I raise my fist, Blair and Veronica reach for me, pulling me back. Their touch is the only thing that pierces through the haze of anger—the only thing keeping him safe from the pain I’m ready to unleash.

“He’s not worth it, Miles,” Veronica says, her voice pleading.

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