Oh shit. I jump to my feet. “Where’s Bliss?” I glance at my watch and groan. We’ve been singing for hours, as in all damn day, and I haven’t heard a peep out of my wife.
She’s been patient with me as I relearn my place in the industry, something that I’m entirely grateful for and have been trying to show by making love to her every chance I can—even when I’m mentally exhausted as hell from writing songs, or physically exhausted trying to make sure I stay in shape.
But I feel like something’s off with us.
“Who’s Bliss?” June asks.
I level her with a look. “The woman who’s been sitting in the studio, day after day, and leaves with me when we’re done.”
June give me a blank stare.
“My wife,” I say, trying again. Hadn’t I introduced her—oh shit. I hadn’t, not once.
She glances at my ring, and then up at my face. “You’re married?”
“Yeah.” I stride to the booth and peer inside. All I see is Bean and Patrick. “Where’s Bliss?”
“She went outside.”
I struggle to maintain calm. “When?”
Bean shrugs. “A few hours ago.”
“And you didn’t think to let me know?” Anger eats at me, not just at them, but at myself. I can only imagine what Bliss thought she saw. Or what she’s been thinking lately. God, I’m such a selfish asshole.
“Dude, we’re here to record, not babysit.”
June walks up behind me. “Want me to help look for her?”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“If she’s old enough to marry you, then she’s old enough to take the time to tell you where she went.” June takes my phone from my pocket and, before I can comprehend what she’s doing, she hands it back. “Call me. Tonight would be amazing. You, me, my band, and about a hundred fans screaming Downward Spiral’s name.”
“Seriously?” I whistle. “Maybe I can talk Bliss into coming.” If she’ll talk to me. I’ve screwed up, on purpose or not, and I have to make it right with her. I don’t give a damn about June’s old-enough speech.
“And if you can’t…” She shrugs. “You know where to find me.”
*** *** ***
Bliss
I’m reading my favorite Junie B. Jones book, trying to get my mind off what Jackson and his June are doing.
Cameron suggested I read books I’m familiar with, and then work my way up. That way I can build my vocabulary and reading comprehension level gradually, until it starts to take off for me. But as my tongue trips over a word, I start to doubt that anything will ever take off for me.
The elevator doors open and Jackson steps out, his gaze landing on me.
“I was worried about you,” he says, striding my way.
I shove the book down into the seat cushions and stand up, backing away from him. “You weren’t too worried.”
Taking off his beanie, he tosses it into a nearby chair and runs a hand through his hair. “Time got away from me. It happens sometimes.”
“It happens a lot,” I point out and he has the grace to blush.
“I know, and I’m sorry.”
I hadn’t expected him to acknowledge that fact so quickly or to apologize. Honestly, I thought he’d argue with me. “Bean and Patrick thought you and June had great chemistry.”
“They were right,” he says. “But only when we’re singing.”
“I can’t sing like June,” I point out, my shoulders slumping. “I can’t sing at all.”
“Don’t need you for that,” he says, holding out his hand. “Let’s sit down and talk.”
I take his hand and allow him to lead me to the sofa. He sits down and makes a face. “What’s under—?” He digs into the side and pulls out my book. He blinks. “I haven’t seen one of these since I was—”
My face goes hot, and before he can finish his sentence, I snatch it out of his hands. “That’s mine.”
Dark blue eyes ringed in violet regard me thoughtfully. “I know, baby doll.”
The endearment, usually so sweet to my ears, makes me feel young and stupid. “Don’t call me that.”
“What would you like for me to call you?” He takes my hand, kisses the palm, and then settles it on his thigh.
Angry tears bite at my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. I’ve cried enough over him. “Bliss.”
“Okay, Bliss.” He’s being so nice, sweet, and considerate that I just know he’s done something wrong. I just know he’s been with June. She’s perfect for him, while I’m… nothing.