He guided his fingers under her chin, tilting it up. She shifted slightly, until they were eye to eye.
“Everything you’ve been through…everything you’ve done…that’s what made you who you are now.” He kissed the corner of her jaw. “It brought you to me.”
She shut her eyes, tears forming at the corners. He tilted his head up to kiss them away, tasting the salt on her skin, and she pulled him into her, locking her arms and legs around him.
He held her just as tightly, because that was all he knew how to do.
30
The next morning, Marc wasn’tthere when Merritt showed up at the studio. After an hour or so of noodling around with one of the other songs, Sadie got a call from Audrey that she put on speaker for both of them to listen in.
Audrey informed them in clipped tones that Marc had been called away on a personal emergency and would no longer be working on the album. The look of relief that crossed Sadie’s face dissolved the last of Merritt’s lingering doubts that she’d done the right thing. Unfortunately, that meant their sessions would be canceled indefinitely until they could find a suitable replacement, which would likely not be until after Merritt was gone.
“I mean…” Merritt glanced over, meeting Sadie’s eyes. “I could take over, if you’re comfortable with that.”
Sadie’s eyes widened until Merritt could see a full ring of white around her dark irises. “Really? You’d produce it?”
“Well, I could finish this song, and maybe we’d have time to get to a good place on the next one. But, yeah. I’d love to.”
Sadie beamed.
Between spending most of her days in the studio and then coming home to Niko at night, Merritt couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this fulfilled—professionally, artistically, personally. The knowledge it was fleeting only heightened the pleasure, like biting into the last nectarine of the season, sweet and tart and overwhelmingly juicy.
The morning of Sadie’s party, they paid a successful visit to Natasha’s Closet. Merritt was delighted to find Natasha herself behind the register, who immediately leapt to her feet to wrap Merritt in a hug before sending her into the dressing room with several options.
Catching glimpses of herself in the mirror as she changed, Merritt felt self-consciousness creep over her. She was undeniably happier now that she’d stopped fighting for a body that had been attainable only when she was barely out of puberty and eating cigarettes and amphetamines for breakfast, but that didn’t mean she was thrilled about showing up to a party full of people who preferred her that way.
That feeling was compounded when she stepped out to show off the first few options, none of which were met with much enthusiasm. Once she put on the last one, though—black and slinky, with a generous hint of the cleavage she was still a little surprised she had—she was shocked how confident she felt in it, her hip cocking involuntarily as she checked herself out in the mirror.
When she walked out of the dressing room, both Niko’s and Natasha’s jaws dropped.
“That’s the one,” they said in unison, and she couldn’t argue with that.
They went out to a late dinner beforehand, showing up to the party when it was already in full swing. Merritt had vaguely recognized the address, but she didn’t realize until they pulled up that the house belonged to one of the label executives—a house that had hosted more than a few parties in her own honor.
She shook off her unease as they left the car with the valet, immediately heading for one of the bars. She coaxed Niko into getting the signature cocktail, the Sadie Rosé, a candy-pink confection garnished with a strawberry, so she could live vicariously through him while she was stuck with sparkling water and lime. As soon as he took a sip, his eyes widened, any pretense of objection gone, and she laughed, stealing a sticky-sweet kiss.
While they waited in line, Merritt spotted several familiar faces in the crowd—most of whom she’d be thrilled to leave in her past. Once they got their drinks, she threaded her arm through Niko’s, ducking her head to slip unnoticed between an executive who’d called her an ungrateful little bitch for trying to negotiate a less grueling tour schedule and another who’d drunkenly propositioned her for a threesome with his wife at Merritt’s own eighteenth birthday party.
Unfortunately, she was so focused on her attempt to avoid them that she didn’t notice Alan Hardwicke until she’d practically bumped right into him.
She plastered on a wide smile, even as she swore internally. “Alan! Great to see you.”
He leaned in to kiss her cheek, which she allowed, even as she fought not to balk. When he pulled away, his eyes flicked to Niko in a territorial once-over.
“This is Niko,” she said, hesitating, then ultimately deciding against adding any further context.
It must have been obvious that there was some kind of history between her and Alan, because the two of them exchangedone of the least friendly handshakes Merritt had ever seen, the tension palpable.
“I didn’t know you were in town,” Alan said, his eyes still on Niko, the subtext clear:And I see why you didn’t tell me.
“Only for the week,” Merritt said, stirring the ice in her glass nervously. “I’m working with Sadie on a couple songs for her new album. She invited me. Us.”
His eyes met hers again with genuine interest. “You’re working again?”
She shrugged. “Just dipping my toe in.”
“How’s the water?”
