“There’s my Salty Pimp,” he breathes into my ear, and I can feel his lips curving into a smile. Turning around to face him, I wrap my arms around his neck.
“So… a duet with Madison St. James?”
Jake shrugs. “Sure. It makes sense, logistically speaking. We’re both wrapping up new albums and will be going on tour around the same time. The label figured having us perform together would generate a lot of excitement with our fans. It’ll be good for record sales.”
My eyebrows knit as I consider this. Something about it isn’t sitting right.
“Don’t you find it a little bit suspicious that Vinny is once again using Madison to get you press?”
Jake’s forehead furrows as something dark passes across his face. Then he blinks and it’s gone.
“Nah, he wouldn’t try that again. He knows how angry I was the last time he pulled that. Besides, this is just one show. Not a huge deal.” He brushes his nose against my neck. “Now come on, I haven’t seen you in two days, and I’ve missed you like crazy.”
He takes me by the hand and leads me over to the sofa, pulling me into his lap. Reaching my hands under his plain white tee, I run my hands over his soft skin, the muscles of his stomach rippling beneath my fingers. Jake stares at me, his eyes darkening as I lean in to mold my lips to his. His tongue runs over my bottom lip as he slides one hand under my shirt to unhook my bra.
But I can’t concentrate. Excerpts from theUs Weeklyarticle are playing on an endless loop through my brain, refusing to be banished no matter how much I try to push them away.Have the pressures of fame caught up to the kitchen hand so soon? Or is she just upset after seeing the steamy photos of Jake and Madison St. James at Shawn Mendes’s Billboard Awards after party?A comment from Instagram breaks through:“Srsly who does this girl think she is?”
I thrust my hands against Jake’s chest to push myself off his lap and into a standing position.
“What is it?” he asks, his voice still husky with lust.
“I… I don’t know,” I admit. “It’s just… you’re going to be leaving on tour soon, and then when will we see each other? I mean, let’s face it, it’s not like I’ll be getting any time off for the foreseeable future.”
Jake tilts his head, his brow wrinkling, but I push on.
“And I know you want me to see you as more than just a celebrity, but some days it’s harder to ignore the fact that you are one. To me, you’re just Jake, but to the world, you’re Jake Taylor, the musician. You don’t belong with someone like me. You should be with someone from your own world.”
Jake’s expression darkens.
“What are you saying? You don’t want to be with me?”
“I’m saying that I don’t understand how this is going to work. It’s not like you live here full-time.”
His jaw tightens, his voice terse. “I’ve been upfront with you from the beginning about the realities of my life.”
“I know that. But come on, Jake, let’s be realistic. We live completely different lives. You’re a rock star—”
“We’re both chasing our dreams! How is that so different?” He steps back toward me, bringing his thumbs to rest softly on either side of my cheekbones and tilting my face toward him. My heart flutters as his chocolate eyes melt into mine.
“I’m not going into this with blinders on. I know it won’t always be easy. In fact, it’s going to take a lot of work. There will be bumps in the road, and we’ll probably get pissed off at each other sometimes. But you and I found our way back to each other for a reason, and I’m not about to let you go again. Please, Lexi… don’t push me away.”
I let out a shaky exhale as I tuck my head under his chin and wrap my arms around his back. As I stand there, my cheek pressed against his chest, a small part of me wonders what I’m doing. Why do I keep trying to push him away when being apart from him is the last thing I want? Maybe it’s because it’s growing harder and harder to ignore the fact that a few months from now, it won’t matter either way. He’ll be leaving all on his own.
24
JAKE LEAVES THE FOLLOWINGweek to kick off his press tour with a handful of appearances and concerts across the country. For the next three weeks, we barely see each other as he jets from San Francisco to Los Angeles, and then to Boston and Nashville. Despite my efforts to stay as busy as possible, it’s been harder to cope than I expected. I can’t help but feel a chasm growing between us in his absence, especially as the tabloid rumors about our alleged breakup have continued to swirl. I hate being apart from him all the time, wondering what he’s doing and who he’s with.
But now, he’s finally home, having touched down in New York earlier this morning. The concert is only two days away, so Jake will spend the next forty-eight hours tied up in rehearsals. He’s invited me to join him for a working lunch with Vinny, Madison, and her manager this afternoon, and I’ve missed him too much to turn him down, despite how I feel about the other attendees.
I turned down Jake’s offer to send a car, figuring the train would be just as fast and a lot less flashy. What I hadn’t counted on was construction delays, which put me twenty-five minutes behind schedule. By the time I burst through the doors at Estiatorio Milos, my carefully blown-out hair is both flat and staticky, and my cheeks are wet with windblown tears from running from the Thirty-FourthStreet station. I swipe my hands across my face, attempting to repair the damage as the hostess leads me through rows of tables covered in crisp white tablecloths. Finally, I spot everyone seated at a table in the corner. Jake’s back is to me, and I realize with a sinking feeling that the only remaining empty seat is next to Madison.
Naturally, she looks immaculate, her flawless red waves and perfectly applied makeup a testament to the fact that she has a driver and therefore never needs to run anywhere. Her blue eyes widen as she takes in my disheveled appearance, but before she can react, Jake turns around, his face lighting up.
“There she is.”
Jake stands and wraps his arms around me. A wave of contentment rolls over me as I press my face into the soft fabric of his black sweater, breathing in his familiar, clean smell.
“We were just talking about you,” Jake says, his eyes never leaving mine as I begrudgingly slide into the plush white banquette beside Madison.
