Page 79 of Pretty Black

I nudged my shoulder into his as we were ushered into the building. Felix and Elijah hung back, giving us space and privacy to wander through the exhibits and enjoy each other’s company.

“I can’t believe you did all this.”

“I love you, and I want your version of happiness to come true with me. I want you to see all the good.”

“Stop. You’re going to make me fucking cry in front of the dolphins!”

He laughed and kissed the corner of my eye. “I don’t think they’ll tell anyone.”

I tilted my face towards him.

I was the flower and him, the sun, and my need for his nourishment profound.

I’d bask in the glow of his light as long as he’d let me.

And bloom because of it.

Maybe there was a way to flourish.

If anyone could convince me, it would be Caspian.

“Can I kiss you in front of the dolphins?”

“Please.”

The aquarium wasn’t the only thing he had planned. We walked hand in hand down to the planetarium and along the lake front. We were stopped and photographed, but most people respected our time and privacy, keeping their distance even if they were gawking. There was no hoard of screaming fans.

After our walk, we went to a late lunch at a little Italian place. As it was a famous chef and celebrity hotspot, we drew more attention there, but the restaurant was used to shooing off the photogs. Pictures of our intimate dinner would be splashed all over the headlines tomorrow, though, and I felt at peace with it.

As we had our after-dinner drink, Caspian’s phone buzzed.

“Who is it?” I asked when he pulled it out of his pocket.

“Lowe.” He clicked the speaker. “Hello?”

“I need you now.” Lowe sounded distraught.

“What happened?” Caspian asked.

“It has to be Alexander. I can’t prove it. Please just come home.”

“We’re on our way.”

TWENTY-FIVE

PRESENT DAY

Iris Black

“Wait, run me through this again,” Caspian said. We sat in his penthouse in a makeshift band meeting. “Why do you think it’s Alexander?”

Lowe was seething and not making a lot of sense, but I could only imagine I’d be the same in his position. His husband wasn’t even in the band. “While we were recording the album in New York—remember I left early one morning?”

Caspian nodded. “Yes, in the middle of our conversation.”

“I didn’t tell you, but it was because Saint and his ex got into a fight and it turned…physical.” Lowe closed his eyes, struggling to get the words out. “He didn’t want anyone to know because he already has this image of being dramatic, and he thought it would turn nasty and abusive online if it got out that his boyfriend hit him—” Lowe’s breath shuddered, his grief bleeding from him.

“So how did Alexander get a picture?”

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