But I sure as fuck know how to play guitar.
The way to the recording studio was incident-free, but when I get back to the hotel, some people on the street immediately notice me. A woman starts yelling something about Spencer, and I hurry inside, escaping behind the doorman who blocks her.
I don’t need her to remind me, anyway. Now that I’ve put in a good guitar session, it’s time to think about Spencer again.
I’m sure our PR teams and lawyers and agents have all worked something out by now. I’m going to swallow whatever pill they offer, a couple interviews before a staged breakup, maybe, and keep my momentum rolling forward.
Since I’m not arriving with Spencer, I head to my own door. I’m only in the suite long enough to pee, though, when there’s a knock from the interior door that divides us.
I zip up and walk over. When I open, Spencer is there in gray sweats and a long-sleeved tee. His brow is set hard, and he’s looking at me like he expects something.
“What?” I ask.
“Of course you haven’t talked to your team today,” he mutters. Spencer lifts his hand and opens his fist to reveal two platinum rings.
“This is what,” he says. “They want us to stay married for a year.”
CHAPTERSEVEN
SPENCER
Gabriel gives me a steady,curious look. “A year, huh?” He turns and walks further into his suite.
I follow him, the rings tight in my fist. His lack of reaction upsets me. It makes me feel like I’m overreacting, but how could you overreact to something like this?
His hotel room is a mirror image of mine. Same lush white carpet, panoramic views, and leather furniture, except in the past couple days, he’s managed to make a mess of his. There’s sheet music lying about, empty glasses and coffee cups on seemingly every surface, and the bed is not only unmade, but the sheets are strewn to the floor.
I set the rings on the counter. Yeah. No way in hell we could make a real marriage work even if we wanted to.
Gabriel gets himself a beer from the fridge. When he arches an eyebrow to me, I surprise myself by nodding.
Might as well.
“I guess it could be worse.”
“Oh really?” I take the bottle he offers me. “You’ve got time to keep this up for a year?”
“Some people live together. Move. Fake it forever.” He squints at me. “They’re not asking us to do anything like that?”
“No. Thank god.”
“Good. Then we have other things to worry about.” Gabriel plops down on the couch. “I suppose there are lots of details for us to work out.”
I latch onto the reason. “Yes. Exactly. And we’re both very busy people.” I sit on the leather chair across from him. “I assume.”
“Very,” he agrees. “But I can save us some time and guess a few of your preferences.” He studies me. “Avoid PDAs. Don’t do anythingtoodebauched. And stay discreet with all personal information, of course.”
“Or maybe nothing debauched at all?” I squint at him. “Is this going to work for you?” I ask.
Gabriel laughs. “I don’tneedto drink tequila with minor royalty and hang glide naked, you know. I can cool the stunts. I’ve been meaning to chill it out ahead of my new album anyway.”
“You did not hang glide naked.”
“No, but the other one is true. I’ve only gone hang gliding shirtless.”
I catch myself almost smiling, but don’t want to get distracted. “Really, though,” I try again. “Will this work for you? It’s no hardship for me to keep my romantic and sexual life under wraps. There’s nothing to hide. But you have other needs that you’re used to getting met.”
Gabriel gives me a funny smile. “Gosh, you’re tense,” he says.
