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“I don’t say anything I don’t want to, and you fuckingknowthat. See you in two hours.” He leaves me then, panties drenched, head in a fog, body screaming, demanding satisfaction, my heart an inch from orbit.

“Ready, sweetheart?” Joel asks, suddenly standing next to me, jarring me out of my stupor. Narrowing my eyes, I look over at him as he presses his lips together in an attempt to hide his smile.

“You really didn’t tell him?”

“I really didn’thave to,” he replies without further explanation before ushering me toward the exit. Glancing back, my gaze finds its way to Easton as he secures his guitar in his case before flicking to the eager group of women standing in wait. Easton’s assurances whisper through my mind as I run my fingers over my tingling lips.

I am so fucked.

“Hey, Daddy,” I say, tossing my overpacked suitcase on the hotel’s king bed. He starts in immediately.

“What’s with the vague text and skipping out on us?”

“I got caught up with a story. You know how it is.”

“I do, but your mom’s pissed. She cooked.”

“Apologize for me.”

“You’re on speaker, brat,” Mom chimes in as I unzip and begin to load the dresser.

“Sorry, sorry,” I plea as the guilt sets in that I’m again lying to them both, and with far too much ease.

“Raincheck,” Dad chimes in. “How about Sunday dinner?”

“No can do. You two will have to entertain yourselves this weekend. I’ve got plans.”

“With whom?” Mom asks unabashedly.

“Addie,” Dad scolds. “It’s her weekend and her business. If she wants us to know, she’ll tell us.”

“Fine,” Mom concedes easily. “I’ll push dinner to Monday.”

“I’ll be there. I love you both . . . so much.”

“Love you too,” they say in unison.

“Oh, Daddy, if you want to look over the specs for this week’s edition, I uploaded the layout before I left the office. I don’t know if it’s exactly what you want, but it’s there.”

“I trust you,” he murmurs with pride as my heart drops. “I’m sure it’s fine.”

“Okay, well . . . Night.”

They both echo goodnights as I end the call and fling myself across the bed, feeling like an altogether shitty human. I know I have their complete trust, but with the acts I’ve committed, I no longer feel worthy of it. With Easton’s kiss still fresh on my lying lips, I tell myself for the umpteenth time that this weekend is all I can give him because my entire future resides on this secret being precisely that, a secret.

Even though remaining close-knit with my family is sewn into my future, I try to remind myself that I’m also very much a grown woman. A grown woman who shouldn’t have to answer to her parents for every move she makes, especially when it comes to her personal life.

Guilt refusing to dissipate, I take a quick shower in an attempt to wash off the shame as I try to figure out how I’m going to hide for the next few days.

With the paparazzi earning high dollars for personal shots of Easton, the stakes are much higher now than in Seattle. The chances of us getting caught on the other side of the lens are far greater, so I can’t be seen with him—in any capacity—in public. Standing side stage tonight—even between the curtains—was reckless and dangerous. Not only that, but Easton’s eyes also strayed in my direction enough that anyone watching closely, especially with a keen, trained eye to pay attention to those particulars, could catch on.

Did they? Surely no one was able to get a good shot. I was too far back, practically buried between those curtains. Yet, anxiety begins to run through me as I shoot off a quick text.

I don’t know if dinner is a good idea.

EC: It’s taken care of.

What do you mean? I haven’t told you why.

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