“Okay, Logan and Kennedy,” the pastor says, now that everyone has moved back into position. “After I’ve introduced you as husband and wife, you’ll lead the recessional down the center aisle. Let’s practice that now.”
As instructed, Logan and Kennedy turn and cheerfully take off down the aisle, followed by pairs of their attendants, until suddenly, Colin is standing mere inches from me, shooting me a breathtaking grin and offering me his muscled arm.
“Hello,” Colin says, his dark eyes twinkling. “I’m Colin.”
Swoon. “Hi.” Swoon. “I’m Amy.” Swoon. “O’Brien. I lived next door to you for the first fourteen years of my life?” I link my arm in Colin’s, giggling at his shocked reaction. If I could have custom-ordered Colin’s facial expression in this moment, I couldn’t have improved on this one.
Colin looks me up and down during our short walk, and when we reach the end of the aisle and come to a stop behind the already mingling crowd, he exhales, runs his hand through his dark, tousled hair, and blurts, “How the hell are you Amy O’Brien?”
A few nearby people swivel their heads toward him, at which point Colin realizes he’s loudly blurted the word “hell” in a church—which, not surprisingly, makes both of us burst into laughter.
A gorgeous smile on his face, Colin leans into me and whispers, “Seriously, though. How the hell are you Amy O’Brien?”
I’m absolutely giddy. But, somehow, I manage to keep myself from totally spazzing out. “Time stops for no one,” I say, returning his grin. “I’m all grown up, Colin. I’m twenty-three.”
“Twenty-three!” He looks me up and down again, and this time, I can’t help thinking his gaze lingered on my cleavage for a long beat. Or was that wishful thinking? That’s certainly what I was hoping would happen when I slipped on this lowcut dress and my new push-up bra earlier, even though I knew my mother would have a shit fit and say my neckline is “inappropriate” for church, which is exactly what she did when she saw me. But can I rationally expect my tits to impress Colin—a rockstar who must sign his name in Sharpie across at least a dozen pairs of them per week?
“Are you back from the tour for good now?” he asks.
“Yeah, it’s been over for a few weeks.” I take a deep inhale to keep my voice from quavering, and then clear my throat. “Since then, I’ve been staying with my mom. Decompressing from the grind, helping Kennedy with wedding stuff, figuring out my next move.”
“I feel ya on the ‘decompressing from the grind’ thing. Touring takes its toll.”
“Ach, it’s brutal. Fun, but brutal. Brutal fun.” Stop talking, Amy. I take another deep breath, and then another, before calmly saying, “Thank you again for getting me the job. It was amazing.”
“You’ve already thanked me. What was your assignment?”
“C-Bomb. I was his personal production assistant during the whole tour.”
Colin hoots with laughter. “No way! You were Caleb’s assistant, the whole time?”
“Yep. I was his personal assistant, lackey, gofer, waitress, bartender, suitcase-packer . . .” Therapist. That last word springs into my mind, but I’d never say it out loud. The surprisingly earnest conversations I wound up having with Red Card Riot’s famed drummer toward the end of the tour, when he realized he could trust me completely, are locked in my vault forever. And not because of my NDA. But because I came to genuinely care about that enigmatic, tempestuous man.
Colin chuckles. “I bet you’ve got some fantastic stories. Caleb is anything but boring.”
“I sure do,” I agree. “Not only about Caleb, but about the crazy shenanigans of my fellow crew members, too. Too bad I can’t tell my very best stories because of my NDA.”
Colin smirks. “Come on, Ames. You have to know you saying ‘NDA’ only makes me want to hear your stories, even more.”
Ames. That’s what Colin used to call me as a kid. Is it a good or bad thing he’s slipped right back into calling me that, like no time has passed?
“I assure you, nothing all that scandalous happened. At least, not in relation to Caleb. He was honestly pretty chill during the tour—and really sweet to me. At least, once he realized he couldn’t make me quit by sending me on a thousand wild goose chases.”
Colin looks surprised. “Caleb did what now?”
I laugh. “I don’t blame him. I was such a shit show, at first. I would have wanted to get rid of me, too. But what Caleb didn’t realize was that the weirder his demands got, the more determined I became. Until one day, out of the blue, Caleb goes, ‘Holy shit, dude. You’re actually damned good at this shit!’” I giggle. “Is it embarrassing to admit that was one of the best days of my life?”
Colin looks thoroughly confused. “I’m shocked Caleb gave you such a long time to prove yourself. The C-Bomb I know wouldn’t bother sending a shitty assistant on a single wild goose chase—he’d tell her to hit the road or get her reassigned.”