Luckily, no one followed them to their hotel, but their driver asked for an autograph—not a shocker. It was the first time she’d feared for her safety, and it rattled her. How did Cary do it? Or any famous person, for that matter? It was one thing for people to take his picture when he was on tour, but this was an invasion of privacy.
As a precaution Cary went to his room first while she took the next elevator up to the suite. The host hotel of the awards show, where everyone was partying, was down the street, but they couldn’t be too careful about being spotted.
She beeped open his door and stepped inside. “I didn’t see anyone on my way up.”
“That’s weird,” Cary said. “Where the hell is Vegas?”
“Maybe he needed sleep?”
“Maybe.”
She sank onto the couch, refreshing her phone every few seconds. “Nothing online yet.”
“People will find out after Sunday, babe.”
“I know. I just don’t trust Sebastien not to screw over Yestown.”
“I’m telling you, you’re worrying for nothing.”
Her phone vibrated.
“Who is it?” he asked.
She exhaled sharply. “Just a Google alert.” Her eyes widened. “Oh, there’s a picture.” She pinched the screen. “Fuck me.”
He grinned. “Is that an offer?”
“I’m serious, Cary. There’s a photo of us. Online. Right now.” She turned the phone toward him. “Shouldn’t you call Cheryl for damage control?”
He squinted. “Your face is blocked. No one can tell it’s you.”
“But my jacket—” she pointed.
He chuckled. “I couldn’t pick that jacket out of a lineup, and I know you intimately.”
She licked her lips. “How intimately?”
He leaned in, mouth brushing hers. “Why don’t I show you?” Then he pulled back, brows lifting. “Wait—do you have a Google alert on me?”
“Obviously.”
CHAPTER 32
CARY
Later that night, Cary was wide awake. He drifted to the window and stared out at the frozen stretch of Saskatchewan, moonlight casting a dull glow over the quiet landscape.
How was Tyler supposed to get used to this life—hislife—with the press tracking their every move? LA was out of the question. She’d never be happy there. But Vancouver didn’t light her up either.
He could move. Why not? He didn’t need palm trees or fancy lunches. He just needed her. Vegas had been right—taking a break from touring wasn’t the end of the world. A baby would change everything. And itshould. He wanted to be there. Not just show up between gigs, but really be there. Diapers and midnight feedings and all. You didn’t get those moments back.
Still, he couldn’t ignore the guilt. His band, his crew—they’d put their lives on hold so he could chase a dream. He owed them. But maybe he didn’t have to vanish completely. He could still pay them while he took a step back. And knowing Vegas, the guy would keep himself busy. The man treated downtime like a personal insult.
And where was Vegas anyway?
CHAPTER 33
TYLER
