by Aly Martinez
Devon stormed in, leveling me with a murderous glare before I even had the chance to utter a hello. Or, more likely, a get-the-fuck-out.
“You fucking married him!” he roared, raking his eyes over my dress and getting the completely wrong idea about what kind of party we were having.
And, because I was still hurt from the little stunt he’d pulled in Maine, not even to mention his showing up and screaming at me in front of a room full of people, I answered, “Yep. And you were not invited. Leave.”
“You ungrateful bitch,” he snapped before stumbling off-balance, barely keeping himself upright by leaning back on the wall.
Is he drunk? I’d never even seen him have a drink.
Henry and Sam both rushed forward.
“Hey! Watch your mouth,” Sam growled.
Devon’s eyes flashed to Sam just seconds before his fist clumsily sailed through the air. Sam was able to move out of the way. Henry wasn’t so lucky.
“Oh, God!” the whole room gasped as Henry stumbled back, cupping his jaw.
Ryan and Ty both jumped in their direction. Thankfully, from out of nowhere, Carter came barreling into the room, wrapping Devon in a bear hug from behind before slamming him to the ground.
“How could you do this to me?” Devon screamed from the ground as Carter held him in place with a knee in this back. “I love you!”
“You what?” I shrieked back at him, more confused than ever.
“Oh, fuck,” Henry mumbled, still rubbing his jaw.
“I’ve given up my life for you, Levee. I’ve spent every waking minute at your side. I’m a fucking bodyguard, not your servant. Or even your driver or butler. But I sucked it up and did it for you because I love you.”
My head was spinning, but he continued before I had a chance to catch up. Devon loves me?
“I sat back and watched you parade dumbass after dumbass around for three goddamn years, but I knew eventually you’d see me as more. I was always there for you. And you fall in love with some suicidal asshole you met while trying to jump off a bridge. What is wrong with you?”
The free fall didn’t just find me—it swallowed the entire room.
“Oh my God!” Sam’s mom cried, throwing her hand over her heart.
Sam’s face paled as he quickly said, “It’s not what you are thinking, Ma.” Rushing toward her, he folded her into his chest. “I swear to God it’s not what you are thinking.”
“Come on. Let’s go outside.” Meg took Morgan’s hand. “Ty. Ryan. Jen. Let’s go.”
Ryan eyed Sam carefully. “Swear to God you didn’t lie to me,” he pleaded, crossing his arms over his chest as the rest of them filed from the room.
Sam just tilted his head at him and impatiently flared his eyes.
Ryan nodded, throwing his hands up in surrender before backing away.
“He’s lying, Ma. None of that happened.” Sam looked up at me with wide eyes while holding his mother in his arms.
I could see it in his eyes that he wanted to tell her the truth and assure her that she wasn’t going to lose her only remaining child the same way she had her husband and her daughter. I could also see that he didn’t want to reveal my secret in the process.
“Bullshit,” Devon slurred.
And that’s when it hit me.
It really was bullshit.
All of it.
The fact that it had happened.
The fact that I was hiding it.
The fact that Devon was trying to use it as an excuse for why I had fallen in love with Sam.
It was all bullshit.
“Devon, you’re an idiot. Because I love you too.”
Sam’s head snapped to me. “Excuse me?”
I waved him off and kept talking. “Maybe not the way you want me to love you, but it was still love. You and Henry were the only two people I could depend on without question. I wish you would’ve been a man and said something instead of acting like a little boy pulling the pigtails of your crush. You know why I haven’t returned any of your phone calls or even confronted you about the crap you pulled in Maine? Because I was scared it would mean that I’d have to say goodbye. I was hoping I could cool off and discuss things with you on a personal level, but then, tonight, you come into my home…drunk… hurling lies and insults?” I shook my head in disgust. “Thank you. You embarrassed the hell out of me in front of some really amazing people, but you made my life so much easier. Devon, you’re fired.” I squared my shoulders and looked at Carter. “Get him out of here.”
“Levee, wait,” Devon pleaded as Carter pulled him to his feet.
“Henry, you want to press any charges?” I asked as he made his way over me.
“Nope,” he replied, draping his arm around my shoulders in a show of solidarity.
“Okay, then. Devon, if you ever show your face on my property again, I will call the police. I will have you arrested. And I will press charges.” I held his gaze for several seconds to reinforce how serious I really was.
My heart was still absolutely breaking, but I sucked it up, because I had to.
I wasn’t Spiderman.
I couldn’t fix the way Devon felt for me.
I couldn’t keep him employed just because I felt guilty.
I could, however, do what was best for me.
“You did good,” Henry whispered as Carter led Devon out of my front door.
My shoulders slacked, but my stomach rolled. I had so much more good to do.
“Mrs. Rivers, I’m sorry you had to witness that, but what he said was the truth…kinda.”
“Levee, leave it alone,” Sam warned.
“No. First of all, with the way that went down, I give it until the morning before Devon airs all of my dirty laundry to the press. Secondly, don’t lie to your mom on my account. Mrs. Rivers, Sam and I met on the top of a bridge. He was there mourning Anne. I was there to kill myself…I think. I don’t really know for sure because I never made it that far. Sam has saved my life in more ways than I can count, and tomorrow morning, I’m heading out to a treatment facility in a desperate attempt to get my life back under control. I’ve been drowning for a long time, and your son not only breathed air into my lungs, but he dragged me from the water altogether. You raised an amazing man, and I’m doing everything in my power to get to a place where I can be the woman he deserves. You should be really proud.”
“Wow,” his mom breathed, looking up at Sam.
I smiled tightly, following her gaze up to his eyes.
Pure adoration was etched over every inch of his handsome face. “I’m so fucking proud of you,” he praised.
“Don’t speak too soon. I think we need to do some sort of press release before Devon has the chance to sell all of this information. I’d like you there so at least he can’t use you as some sort of leverage against me.”
Sam’s smile grew. “Levee Williams, are you asking me to be your public boyfriend and not just your secret lover?”
“Eww,” his mom said, stepping out of his arms.
“I think I am.” I smiled. “I think I’m ready for the world to try to steal you from me.”
Sam’s lips lifted even higher as he sauntered in my direction. Using my chin to tip my head back, he placed a kiss on my lips then arrogantly said, “I dare them to try.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Sam
AFTER A MILLION apologies from Levee, my family decided to call it a night. Before my mom left, she pulled Levee aside and had a little chat with her. They both ended up crying and hugging before Mom finally walked out the door.
As we watched them all drive away, Levee leaned her head on my shoulder and declared that I was never allowed to meet her parents. I laughed then tossed her over my shoulder and headed up the winding staircase to her bedroom.
I would love to say that I stripped her naked and we blocked out the world while tangled between the sheets. However, when I deposited her on the bed, Henry was lounging next to her. And, as I collapsed on
the other side of her, I knew things were bad when Henry didn’t even crack a threesome joke.
“So, are you sure about this? I mean, do you really think Devon would sell you out like that?” he asked the ceiling.
“I don’t know. Two hours ago, no. But now…I’m not sure. How the hell did I not know he was in love with me?”
Sliding my arm under her head, I said, “I told you he was your Kevin Costner.”
“Oh, hush,” she teased, rolling to my side.
“For what it’s worth, I think you’re doing the right thing. Hiding doesn’t help anyone,” Henry said, climbing off the bed and moving to the chair in the corner. “You still planning to step away for a little while?”
Levee’s head tilted back to look at me. While holding my gaze, she responded to Henry. “Yeah. I really think I need to.”
“Good. Then call Stewart. Make an official statement. Blast it everywhere, and then get better so I can stop spending my weekends alone with you two. It’s making me horny. I can’t even remember the last time I got laid.”
“Tuesday. The photographer,” she informed him. “I got the play-by-play on Wednesday.”
Henry smiled fondly. “Ah, yes. I should call him.”
She turned her attention back to me. “Are you sure you’re ready for all of this? I’ll totally understand if you want to stay out of it.”
“What do I have to lose, Levee? I’m in this with you one hundred percent, and if it means you get to stop hiding and we get to live a life…together, I’m ready for it all with you.” I smiled, kissing the tip of her nose. “And yes, I’ll sign the copyright release on that too.”
With a groan, she lifted her phone to dial. “Nah. You can keep that one. It wasn’t that great.”
“What!” I exclaimed.
“Yeah, not your best work. You really should have tried harder.”
“Seriously?”
“Oh, come on. Don’t look at me like that. That wasn’t anywhere close to as good as ‘I want to struggle with you.’ Sorry, Sam. I think you were a one-hit wonder.”
“Well, we can’t all be Levee Williams, I guess.” I tickled her until she rolled off the bed with the phone to her ear.
“Stewart? We need to talk.”
For over an hour, Levee paced the room, talking on the phone. Henry sat in the corner, alternating between listening to her and whispering his opinion. I sat silently on the bed, wondering what the hell they were talking about. I was a smart guy. But I swear they were speaking a different language. From what I gathered, they were debating the pros and cons on what details Levee should release in her official statement.
Finally, when she hung up, she dropped her chin to her chest and announced, “And now, we wait.”
“That’s it?” I asked, rising to pull her into a hug.
“Yep. My publicist will do the rest.”
“Let me know if you need anything. I’m going to see if the sexy photog sends dirty pictures.” Henry rubbed his palms together before heading down the hall to his rooms—plural.
When Levee had originally said that we needed to do a press release, I hadn’t been quite sure what to expect, but it sure as hell wasn’t lying in bed while staring at our social media accounts.
“Oh, oh, oh. It’s up,” she said, sitting up in bed.
When I refreshed my rePURPOSEd Instagram account, a notification appeared that I had been tagged in a photo.
It was a picture of Levee and me from earlier that night. I was pretty sure Meg had taken it on her cell phone, but it was utterly breathtaking. We were huddled together while talking to Henry. I was holding a beer and laughing, and Levee was pressed up on her toes, kissing my cheek, her smile visible even from the side. My arm was anchored around her waist, and her hand sat lovingly on my stomach.
The post read: Once upon a time…I fell in love with Spiderman. #TrueStory
I knew that Levee hadn’t posted that picture. Some publicist or assistant somewhere had pressed the magical button, sharing our intimate moment with the world.
But I knew with absolute certainty that Levee had penned the message, and even though it was a load of shit, it meant the world to me.
Grabbing my hand, she intertwined our fingers. “Don’t let go. No matter what, okay?”
Staring into whiskey-brown eyes that represented the rest of my life, I knew there was only one answer. “Never.”
My life changed that night.
She was right.
Everything was different.
But, even as pictures of us flashed on the screen while news stations reported that Levee Williams was checking into a mental health treatment program for depression and a possible suicide attempt, one thing remained the same.
Us.
She drew circles on my chest as we stayed up into the wee hours of the morning, laughing and talking like two people madly in love.
And, at the end of the day, that was all we really were.
Our relationship had absolutely nothing to do with Levee’s celebrity status or my lack thereof.
She wasn’t the princess.
And I wasn’t the pauper.
She was just a sad girl who liked to write songs.
And I was nothing more than a simple guy who was lucky enough to have made her fall in love with him.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Sam
LEVEE HAD BEEN gone for thirty days.
Thirty unbelievably chaotic days.
The first week had been hard. Just like in Maine, Levee had gone into a black-out period where she didn’t have her cell phone. It was probably for the best though, because the world was aflutter with all things Levee…and Sam.
I was just aflutter for a smoke. An urge I resisted…barely. Quitting smoking was the hardest thing I’d ever done. And I, even one month later, wasn’t sure I’d really done it. But I kept going. I’d made a promise to every single woman in my life, and come nuclear warfare or the zombie apocalypse, I was keeping up my end of the bargain.
World-ending disaster seemed easier though. God, it’s hard.
But back to my new celebrity status…even if it was a miserable, smoke free one.
With the exception of rePURPOSEd’s online orders, nothing exploded after Levee had released the truth about her sudden departure from music. If anything, the public had rallied around her. There was a massive outpouring of support, and while, yes, a ton of critics were predicting that this was all a big publicity stunt, for the most part, everyone was supportive. Even the fans who hated my guts. But especially the ones who thought I created unicorns.
Reporters weren’t camping out on my doorstep the way Levee had feared, but there was no shortage of people grilling me for information about her. I’d had to change my phone number three times, and more than once, I’d been followed by a photographer while walking Sampson at the park. I just smiled and kept going.
I’d gotten the girl. It was going to take more than a few pictures to bring me down.
I landed my first tabloid cover on week two. It was a completely fabricated story about how I was really Levee’s stalker who she’d fallen in love with after I’d held her captive for a weekend. I was relatively sure they didn’t know about our stalker joke, but Levee and I got a big laugh out of that article. It was a delightful little piece of horseshit that I promptly framed and hung over our bed.
As far as we could tell, Devon never went to the press about anything. All of our true secrets remained our own. There were a million speculations about how Levee and I had met, especially once the reporters had started digging into my past, but not a single person ever came up with the magical formula that ended with us standing on the top of that bridge together. I guessed Devon really did love her—or, at the very least, he loved the ability to earn a paycheck. Despite my urging otherwise, Levee gave him a glowing recommendation. She stated that their issues were personal and not professional. While I was against it at first, I was happy to hear he’d landed a job with a large secur
ity firm two thousand miles away in Chicago. I didn’t have to worry about him randomly showing up at our door, stressing Levee out.
Unfortunately, there were plenty of others to more than fill that role.
The third weekend Levee was gone, I finally got to meet her parents. Bianca and Kyle Williams decided to pop up for a surprise visit.
Levee all but burst into tears, and I couldn’t say that I blamed her.
They were…awful.
Don’t get me wrong. They loved Levee, and I was pretty sure Levee loved them too, but they were unbelievably exhausting to be around. Her mother paced, whined, complained, and nagged the entire time she was there. She lectured Doctor Spellman on the importance of accessorizing even while on the job. And the minute I removed my jacket, her lips curled in disgust. Levee lost her mind when Bianca asked how many of my tattoos I’d gotten while in prison. The woman was miserable, and to hear Levee tell it, she just liked to make sure everyone else felt as bad as she did.
Kyle Williams sat in the corner, quietly texting on his phone, only pausing long enough to jab insults at Bianca, which, in turn, set her off even more. No one could even get a word in edgewise because they argued the entirety of the two-hour visit.
At one point, they were arguing so loudly that there was absolutely nothing left to do but laugh. Levee scowled at me from across the room, where she was attempting to keep the peace.
After I’d made an exaggerated cross over my heart, I mouthed, “We will never be them.”
Her whole body sagged, but her lips curved into a smile. She gave up on trying to intervene and joined me on the couch. While they continued to bicker, Levee and I engaged in a very serious thumb-war tournament. She won even though I believed she cheated. Somehow.
Over those weeks of separation, I fell even more in love with Levee than I’d thought possible. Every night, we spent at least an hour on the phone, talking about everything under the sun. It was during that time that I realized just how much I didn’t know about her. There was probably a herd of her fans that could beat me in a game of trivia about the woman I had every intention of marrying one day.
