Heading down the hall, I noticed Post-its stuck to the pictures. Are you excited? Are you ready? Would you hurry up and find me? Griffin’s old room that we were using as ours had a bunch of petals taped onto it. They formed a heart. In the center of the heart, a sticky note read, “I think I’m in here.”
Giggling, I pushed our door open. “Kellan? What’s going on?” He wasn’t in there either, though. His guitar case was open on our bed, and the story notes for my next novel were strewn all over it. A bright pink note exclaimed, “Future bestseller!” I laughed harder and looked around for Kellan. When I still couldn’t find him, I looked in the closet. I knew he had to be in this house somewhere. He wasn’t in the closet, though. All I found was a piece of journal paper with song lyrics written upon it. The words were beautiful, and brand new. I could hear Kellan’s flawless voice singing them in my head as I read them. You’ll never know how incredible you are to me, how desperately I love you. I would do it all over again if I needed to. I’d go back to the beginning for you.
My eyes hazy, I again called out for him. He still didn’t answer me. Wondering if his lyrics were clues, I went back to the beginning and headed to the front door. Still nothing. Just when I was sure I’d never find him, I opened the door and took a look outside. Standing on the welcome mat, resplendent in faded blue jeans and his black leather jacket, Kellan was holding a dozen long-stemmed roses in one hand and a copy of my paperback in his other. I didn’t know what excited me more—finally finding him, the electric gleam in his eye, the smell of the fragrant flowers in his hand, or my name splashed all over the glossy six-by-nine cover.
Raising a brow, Kellan spoke before I could respond. “What took you so long?”
Laughing and crying, I flung my arms around him and pulled him out of the frosty air and into the house. I urged his head down to mine and thrilled in the coolness of his lips. Kicking the door shut with his foot, Kellan managed to speak a few words around my eager mouth. “I have . . . something . . . for you.”
I was dying to finally hold my book. Letting go of Kellan, I extended my hands like a small child begging for a treat. Kellan immediately placed the roses in my arms. I frowned at him as he laughed; the roses were gorgeous, but he knew that wasn’t what I really wanted right now. A teasing smile on his face, he pointed to the book I was aching to flip through. “You can’t see it until you promise to sign one for me.”
I pursed my lips, but Kellan shook his head. “Nope. I want a signed copy. I want the first signed copy.”
Groaning, I nodded and shook my free hand at him. “Fine, I’ll sign whatever you want, just let me see it.”
Intrigued, Kellan murmured, “Really? Anything I want?” as he took back his flowers and gave me the book.
I ignored his suggestive tone as I stared at the sexy black and white photo of a woman standing between two men. The title, Irresistible, was sprawled across the top and the pseudonym I was using as my pen name was in big bold letters along the bottom. I wasn’t hiding who I was anymore, but people knew my real name now, and I didn’t want the story to become a success just because I was a rock-god’s wife. Like Kellan, I wanted to make it on my own merits, not because of the hype that surrounded my life.
Holding the book was . . . surreal. I actually did it. I actually wrote and published a novel. Crazy.
“I’m so incredibly proud of you, Kiera.”
As I looked up at Kellan, I could see that pride reflected on his face. It warmed me in places I didn’t know I could be warmed.
Kellan’s new tour, with Holeshot and Avoiding Redemption as his opening acts, was starting in April. I wasn’t sure if it was the label’s doing or Denny’s, but the boys were going international this time. At the tail end of the U.S. tour, they had concerts set up in both the United Kingdom and Australia. I found it really humorous that the D-Bags were going Down Under. Life sure had a way of turning full circle.
But before Kellan could go on tour with the boys, something he was really looking forward to doing, he had to do something he was not looking forward to. But, shocking the hell out of myself, I was looking forward to it.