I think about calling her right now and telling her I’m hanging out with my buds, and I’m getting drunk, so she could see I was devoted enough to her that I adamantly refused to let my buddies take me to a strip club. She’d be so proud of me, and it would show her just how much I care.
But I’d probably slur my words so badly she’d know I’m shit faced already and would discount every damn thing I say. Plus, there’s the very real chance that I could get totally sappy on her and admit I’ve fallen in love with her, and I absolutely do not want to do that when I’m drunk.
I figure that should be done face to face at the very minimum, and if I’m really on my A-game, I’ll write a song to her about it. That would totally make her melt into a puddle of goo for me, and there’s no way she’ll be able to hold back the same sentiment.
That’s it.
Decision made.
I bring the drink to my lips and take another small sip.
Emma doesn’t need to know these messy details about my drunken night out with friends. I’ll tell her all about it, of course, but she doesn’t need to deal with me the way I am right now.
CHAPTER 24
Emma
The drive from Chicago O’Hare to the Allstate Arena in Rosemont is only about five minutes, and yet it seems like it’s taking at least an hour. My cab driver is a nice enough guy, but he’s just a bit too chatty for me this morning. I’m totally wired from several cups of coffee since I had to be up so early, and I’m beyond excited yet nervous to see Evan. It’s been nine days since I’ve seen him and while we’ve talked every day by phone, FaceTimed a few times, and texted several times, there’s a part of me that’s shrunken back into my reserved shell. Nothing evidences that more than the fact I went with a pair of high-waisted khaki pants, a sky-blue blouse with a rounded collar, and a pair of white Keds on my feet.
So damn lame, yet it was like a protective armor to me.
Perhaps subconsciously I was reasoning that if that spark isn’t there… if the chemistry has faltered, I can at least go down knowing I was being true to myself and not an idealized version.
“Where do you want let off?” the driver asks as I see the arena come into view.
“Around the back,” I tell him. “There’s a fenced area where the tour buses will be.”
“Are you a groupie or something?” he asks, his eyes flicking to me in the rearview mirror.
I chuckle. “No. I’m an attorney and also a publicist.”
That felt weird to say. The publicist part.
Of course, I’m not about to tell him I’m Evan Scott’s girlfriend.
The cab driver navigates us to the rear of the building. Just as Tyler said there would be, I see a six-foot chain link fence surrounding a portion of the parking lot. Inside are the two buses as well as the tractor-trailers that carry the equipment.
Also, as Tyler promised, there’s a security guard standing at the gate.
The cabbie pulls up to the gate and the guard comes through, clearly expecting me. I open the door as I pull out my credit card to pay the driver, and the guard asks as he leans in a little, “Miss Peterson?”
“That’s me,” I say, perhaps a little too brightly.
Damn nerves.
The cab driver gets my rolling case out of the trunk while I handle the credit card transaction, then I show my ID to the guard, who gives it only a brief glance, before he escorts me into the fenced enclosure.
“Mr. Hannity said you have the security code for Mr. Scott’s bus,” he says.
“Yes,” I assure him. “Thank you.”
He gives a nod, and then I’m walking across the worn pavement to Evan’s home on wheels. My stomach churns and I suddenly have to pee, whether from an overload of coffee or near hysteria at seeing him again, but I walk with my shoulders thrown back and my head held high.
This is it.
Tiny internal squeal of excitement tinged with panic.
And then, the excitement wins out as I remember everything about Evan that made me fall for him. His humor, his alpha ways, his sweet side, and his dirty side. The fact that he believed in my abilities and pushed me out of my comfort zone.
The look on his face and the caring tone in his voice when he told me about my father after Midge called.
Yes, totally excited because I know this man and he’s the one for me.
My heart is racing as I key in the security code, and the doors give a whooshing hiss as they slide open. I’m greeted with silence from the interior and there’s no rushing puppy barreling at me, so I assume Sirius is in the other bus with Red. Leaving my case on the pavement, I climb the stairs quietly and turn into the living area.
It’s a total mess and I’m actually a bit stunned to see beer bottles all over the place. Laying on the floor, stacked on the side tables, and one lying on the couch. An empty bottle of bourbon is also on the couch, along with two empty pizza boxes.