Page 83 of Love Undiscovered
This has got to be the sexiest fucking song I’ve ever heard.
With the sexiest fucking guy singing it.
To me.
Holy shit balls. I’m all in. I don’t care if I lose the bet. I don’t care if I get hurt. I’m going to tell him I want to do this. I get what Kat’s been saying all along about relationships. And it’s going to be totally worth it.
I smile big at him, not sure if he can see me or not. I can tell he’s nearing the end of the song.
His eyes close when he gets to a high point, he looks beautiful with his head thrown back as he loses himself in the song. I’m so caught up in the moment, I don’t even notice the woman next to me.
Until she speaks.
“I remember when he used to sing this song to me,” she says.
And it’s like a needle scratching across an old vinyl record, everything stops.
“Excuse me?”
“Chance.” She nods her chin toward the stage. “He used to sing this song to me all the time.”
I look up at the stage, the song is finished, and Chance is leaning down to shake hands and high-five some of the people near the front of the stage. The applause is crazy.
The spotlight has since left me and is back on Trace and the band as they start up another song. I watch as Chance jumps down from the stage and talks to a few people.
I turn toward the woman. “I’m sure, as the lead singer, he would sing this song a lot.”
“Yes, but as his wife, I knew it was for me,” she says, her tone superior.
If I thought the first time she said something to me was jarring. Then hearing the word ‘wife’ was like a system shut down. My ass hit the stool seat with a thud.
“Did you say,wife?” I don’t believe what I’m hearing.
“He didn’t tell you?” she smirks. “Guess it isn’t that serious between you two, is it honey?”
I feel the ground drop out from under me. He’s married? I look back at the woman, out at Chance, then back at her. She looks like Sylvester right after he got Tweety Bird to fly in his mouth.
Oh fuck no.
I turn back toward the bar. “Can I get another shot? Make it a double,” I ask the bartender once I catch his eye.
The benefit of being friends with the band, you always get served quickly. I polish off both shots quickly, hoping she’ll leave in the meantime. If I ignore her, she’ll go away. ‘Cause no way in hell is this really happening. I glance to the side.
She’s still there.
Fuck.
Her attention is on Chance, who is still near the stage, so I take a minute to really look at her.
His wife.
He’s fucking married?
She’s exquisite looking. Not that I would expect anything less from a guy as good-looking as Chance. She has long, slightly wavy, light brown hair with blonde highlights, and big brown eyes. She looks a lot like Keira Knightley in the pirate movies. Sun-kissed, wind-blown, tan, and healthy. The opposite of my pale skin and carefully coiffed hair.
I know that I'm attractive, but it does not just come out of the box that way, I work at it. I accentuate only my best features and go with a look that I know works for me. Is it high maintenance? Yeah, probably.
I'm not one of those natural beauties that can throw on sunscreen and Chapstick and look amazing. I require spackle and a coat of paint. Or two.
