All I cared about was staying clean and doing right byher.
“Here’s the point,” I informed her. “You’re gonna grab your bags, get dressed if you want to. You can wear sweatpants, I don’t care. You’re getting in the car with me and we’re going to the airport, and we’re flying back to Chicago. You’re not leaving the tour, and you’re not taking a break from the toureither.”
I studied her response to that. Maggie wasn’t used to me telling her what to do; I knew that. I mean, not like I hadn’t fucking tried. But she never reallylistened.
On this, she had to listen, because I was right. No way was she leaving the tour. I wouldn’t let her leave thetour.
Brody wouldn’teither.
I’d already talked to him. And while he was clearly a little pissed at me over the whole secret marriage thing—and probably worried I’d fuck things up with Maggie—he’d assured me fucking up-and-down that Maggie’s job was safe, that he was never gonna letanyonefuck with it. Evenme.
“You need some time off,” I added, taking a gentler tone, “you can take time off, but you’re doing it on theroad.”
Maggie shook her head slowly. “I don’t need time off,Zane.”
“Great. Go get yourshit.”
“I’ll need to book us a flight,” shesaid.
“No worries,” I told her. “Got a jet onstandby.”
* * *
When we were seatedin the plane, I said, “Surprised you didn’t say anything about the privatejet.”
Maggie looked at me. She’d sat right next to me, even though the cabin was huge and she could’ve sat anywhere. She’d gotten dressed and she’d even put on a little makeup. Her gray eyes looked tired and pretty. “Likewhat?”
“Usually you tell me not to waste mymoney.”
“Usually I don’t mind flying first class with you.” Her eyes moved slowly over my face. “But I don’t really want to deal with the bombardment of attention. You know… fans. Horny flight attendants.” She looked away. “I really don’t need people or their camera phones in my face rightnow.”
That was fine with me; I didn’t want that either. I just wanted to be withher.
“I don’t want to share you, either,” I toldher.
She looked at me again, but she didn’t sayanything.
Once we were in the air, she started reading on her iPad. I put in my earbuds and listened to somemusic.
After a while, she put the iPad aside, dropped her head on the headrest and went to sleep. Or at least I thought she went to sleep. But then she reached her hand onto my armrest, palm-up, without opening hereyes.
I put my hand in hers, and we curled our fingers together. And we held hands like that for the rest of the flight… even when we both fellasleep.
Chapter Seventeen
Maggie
Five weekslater…
“Maggie.You’re really cramping my stylehere.”
I looked up into the ice-blue eyes of the man I’d married almost two years ago to find him gazing down at me with a twisted, amused smirk on his face. Which was when I realized how tightly I was holding hishand.
“Oh. Uh… sorry.” I released my death grip. I also realized I’d been leaning heavily on his arm, flinching in sympathy pain, the little stool I was sitting on pressed tight up against the chair where he was sitting while he gottattooed.
“Shit, you’re strong,” he muttered, flexing his newly-freed hand and wiggling his fingers. “Not sure the blood’s coming back anytimesoon.”
“Oops.”
