“Darling!” Angela’s voice sounds through Ezra’s cell phone, and I start. “How are you?”
“Fine, fine.” Ezra swallows hard. “How is Vegas?”
“Oh, it’s a dream,” Ezra’s mother says. “So tacky. But the lights sparkle, and there’s even an Eiffel Tower here, and—”
Ezra smiles. “Maybe I should take you to Paris. Then you can see the real one. Then you won’t need to go to Vegas.”
I can hear peals of laughter ring from the phone. “I’m already here, honey. I’m going to enjoy myself. And tomorrow we might even visit the Grand Canyon!”
Ezra shifts in his chair. Creases line his forehead, and his dimples are nonexistent. My hand itches to comfort him, wrap him in my arms, and kiss his sorrows away. I can’t risk his mother discovering our relationship is nothing like that of future stepbrothers, and besides, I know that I’m the cause of all his pain. We just decided we want to be in a relationship, but that’s all going to break away now. It’s going to have to happen. And it hurts so goddamned much.
If only I had been able to convince my dad not to pursue Angela. If only my parents hadn’t had me when they were so young, perhaps my mother might still be alive, and my father would still be with her, and not going about with all sorts of women.
“If you can’t have love, have money,” my father used to say. I never realized how much he would follow through on that.
“Mom,” Ezra’s voice grows more urgent, and I shift my head away. I’ve intruded on a private moment. “Do you—maybe you shouldn’t marry Brad after all.”
“Ezra!” his mother’s voice is indignant. “Why would you say that? You like Brad!”
“Well, yes.” He clears his throat, and his foot taps against the floor. “But I’ve heard some things about him . . . I think you should hold off on marrying him.”
“What did I teach you about gossip, young man?” Angela’s voice is stern.
“Apparently, his ex ended up in rehab.” Ezra looks at me, and I nod. “I don’t want that to be you.”
“Is that all?”
“Isn’t that enough?” Ezra frowns into the phone, and I wish I could just admire the adorable manner in which his eyebrows scrunch together and not worry about the reason why he is worrying.
“I know all about Margaret!” Angela laughs into the phone, and I imagine my father there next to her, stroking her hair and giving every sign that he adores her. And then, like Margaret, he can abandon her when he’s able to get a steady stream of money from her after they divorce. And she can be confused and unhappy. I bite my lip. Angela isn’t Margaret. Maybe I’m overreacting. I hope I am.
Angela’s voice continues. “But, Ezra, just because Margaret became an alcoholic doesn’t mean I will be.”
“I know.” Ezra leans forward, clutching his phone tightly to his ear. “But—”
“Look,” Angela’s voice firms. “It’s sweet of you to care, but I know you’re just worried about change. I know you like having a solid family base to come back to after all your time touring. But it’s time for me to move on and to find happiness again. And it’s time for you to move on too. Maybe you should be looking into buying a house in Los Angeles. Brad thinks—”
Ezra sucks in a deep breath of air. “Just hold off on the wedding. Okay, Mom? Please?”
“I’m sorry, honey. I—I need to do this. This weekend has been perfect. I’m not going to change any of that now. You’ll understand when you’re more experienced, dear.”
Ezra’s smile tightens, and my heart twists at his agony and at what I need to do. He’s being too vague. He just seems like a normal son, nervous about getting a new stepfather.
Dad will hate me once he finds out what I’m about to do. My mouth dries because I’m his son, and I’m not supposed to be the person destroying his dreams. Not when the reason why he couldn’t achieve more normal dreams is because of me, because he had me way too young.
I learn toward Ezra. My heartbeat thuds wildly, and I even feel a bit nauseous, but I need him to understand this. “Tell her I warned you about my dad. Please?”
His eyes widen, and he shakes his head rapidly. He whispers back, his tone furious, “I can’t let you destroy your relationship with him—”
“Are you talking to someone?” Angela asks. “Is that Caleb? Or Alec?” Her voice is cheerful. “I’m so glad you’re getting along better with him.”
“Yeah—” Ezra darts a glance at me. “It’s Alec.”
I grab the phone from him and stride toward the window. Ezra lets out a small squeal, and his footsteps follow me across the floor. I clutch the phone tightly in my hands. “Hi, Angela.”
“Alec! How are you, young man?” Angela’s voice is so happy, and my chest squeezes.
“Angela . . . about what Ezra was saying—” I give Ezra a stern look when he approaches me, and he halts. I suck in a breath of air. “Dad’s a con man. You can’t marry him.”
The line is silent.
My heartbeat thunders, and the phone slides, slippery in my now sweaty hands. “I’m so sorry, Angela. I know how horrible this is. But you can’t—absolutely cannot—marry him.”
“Alec.” Angela’s voice is cold. “Your father warned me you might interfere. I will ask you not to destroy what will be the happiest day of my life.”
“I—” I flash my eyes to Ezra, and his are round.
Ezra takes the phone from me. “I believe Alec, Mom.”
“I don’t know why. You’ve hardly spoken this whole time. He’s been nothing but gloomy and morose. Brad told me he’s missing his mom and doesn’t want the marriage to take place. But making that sort of slander about his dad—really, I don’t think he’s very happy. He should have gone to Harvard like his father. I think he’s jealous of your success, Ezra. Many people are. You can be too trusting—”
“But so can you!” Ezra exclaims. “Right now. I’m your family, Mom. You need to believe me.”
I squeeze his hand, hopeful that she’ll listen to reason. She must. After everything we said, she must.
Angela sighs. “Wish me luck, honey. I’m very happy. I really am.”
“That’s—that’s good,” Ezra says. “That’s all I want you to be, Mom.”
The phone clicks off, and Ezra stares at me. “She didn’t believe me.”
“I know.” My heartbeat races. I look down at my hands.
Ezra tries to call her again, but she’s not picking up. Clearly, she shut her phone off. He frowns. “I’m sorry, Alec. I’m afraid I just made things worse. Now your father will know you tried to stop things, and—”
“Don’t worry about me. You know now, and you can make sure he doesn’t get his hands on any of your money. Or your mom’s.”
“Don’t be so solemn. I know where she’s staying.” I tilt my head, and his grin widens. “We’re going to Vegas, baby.”
“You sure?”
“’Course I am. You didn’t tell me all of that for nothing. I’ll drive this time,” he says. “It’s dark.”
I smile, and he strides from the room. His shoulders are big and brawny, and right now it seems like he can carry any burden on them. He feeds Trixie, tells the security guard to have the housekeeper feed her in the morning, and we’re off. My heartbeat quickens, and something like pride soars through me.
Chapter Nineteen
Ezra
Alec’s footsteps crunch on the gravel behind me. The dark sky looms overhead, and I’m not going to bother seeing if we can get a flight. My security would hate it if I just bought two economy tickets.
I unlock the car doors, and Alec slides into the seat beside me. “How far away is Vegas?”
I grin. “Four hours.”
Alec returns my smile. They won’t get married in the middle of the night, and maybe, just maybe, we’ll be able to convince Mom not to marry Brad after all.
I like driving, and soon we’re speeding along the freeway. The gold light of cars and streetlights gleams against the dark blue sky
and road, and the sound of eighties music streams through my car. Alec sits beside me, and every now and then we take each other’s hand and squeeze it.
What happens tomorrow will decide our fate. It must go well. I can’t stand the possibility of this all collapsing. Already I know I’m going to cherish this memory, even though a long car journey shouldn’t be tinged with melancholy at the prospect of the trip ending.
We abandon the bright lights of Los Angeles and drive through the desert, the flatness interrupted only by cacti rising up in jarring, disjointed shapes from the ground. Huge trucks accompany us, breaking up the emptiness of the road with their gigantic loads. No tourists drive at this time of night, and we are alone. We switch places at a pit stop, and I’m relieved truckers are not my target audience when we wander inside the busy building to grab dinner, though I still pull my beanie cap down and don’t make eye contact with anyone.
We arrive in Vegas in the middle of the night, and Alec gets us a hotel room so the front desk staff won’t freak out when they see my name on the card. It feels strange arriving so late. Usually the hotel staff arranges flowers and champagne in the room, and the security does its best to keep us away from curious onlookers. Now we just arrive in a plain room, nicely decorated, but with no view of the flashy lights.
Alec’s face is drawn together, and we collapse on the bed together. We don’t have sex, we just sleep, wrapped in each other’s arms, taking comfort in the warmth of each other’s bodies.
I’m not going to bang on our parents’ room in the middle of the night. That’s not going to convince Mom that Alec isn’t deluded. There will be plenty of time for us to see them tomorrow morning.
I lean into Alec, comforted by the weight of his sturdy, masculine legs against mine and the way in which the hair on his legs scratches me. He taps his fingers against the blanket, and I know he’s every bit as worried about this as I am. I take comfort in that knowledge. Right now I have him.
***
Alec wakes me in the morning. I inhale his scent and clutch onto him, as if his body can eliminate the dull hollowness that spreads through my body, leaving my throat dry and my demeanor contained. I don’t want to think about what will happen to us after I speak with my mother. If I convince her not to marry Brad, if they are no longer together, how can I ever justify keeping Alec in my life? Wouldn’t each appearance of him be painful? How can I tell her she can’t have a relationship with his father and then continue having a relationship with him?
“It will be okay,” Alec’s voice rumbles in my ear, but I’m not sure that it can be.
Perhaps this will be the last time I see him. Perhaps after this day, he will go home with his father, who will be justifiably furious at him, and I will go home with my no doubt devastated mother. Perhaps that will be the end of all our contact together, of all the comfort of knowing that there is at least one person who understands me, who gets me.
A life without Alec is something I am already experienced in, I just met the man recently, but the thought of spending any more time apart from him or returning to the existence before him, devoid of all feeling, is daunting.
I set my mouth into the same grim line that Alec has on his face. I dress slowly, as if I can postpone the inevitable by delaying rolling up my socks and tying my shoelaces. It would be easy to tell my mother we were never here or to go to her wedding and never attempt to talk her out of the marriage.
Perhaps in such a world, Alec and I might even be together, if not in public, at least in private. It’s all too tempting to think that way, but I can never let my mother be unhappy. I can never sit back and watch her make a mistake. I don’t want her to struggle, not when she has me.
I clench my fists together, upset I can consider abandoning my mother to a man who will only hurt her. She’s been there for me my whole life, and I’ve only known Alec for a few weeks. And yet Alec already knows things about me I’ve never told anyone else, even Mom. I bite my lip hard. I consider how perfect Caleb and Mateo are for each other, and how I can’t have that with Alec. Mom, I remind myself. This is about her.
“Come on.” Alec ruffles my hair, and my breath catches in my throat at the sign of affection. Will this be the last touch we share? It’s not like we can hold hands as we walk to the wedding. We stride toward the lobby. Brad and her were staying at this hotel, and if we’re lucky, maybe we can catch them in the breakfast room.
My phone pings, and I check it. Mom. My hand shakes as I see I have a notification from her.
Alec turns to me, his eyes worried. “Are you okay?”
I press my lips together and check the social media site. “Oh my God.”
“Ezra?” Alec’s voice becomes more urgent, and I smile and shake my head.
“She posted the wedding location.” I pull up the GPS on my phone and type in the address. I turn to Alec, and we’re both smiling now. “I’m surprised she already left, but—it doesn’t matter.”
“Awesome.”
I smile and follow him through the door of the hotel and into the car.
Alec drives this time, and we zoom past the glitzy hotels that line the strip. Everything will be okay.
“I would have thought Dad would have wanted something more glamorous.” Alec looks out the window. We are far from the casinos and designer hotels. The suburbs sweep behind us, cookie-cutter homes that contrast with all the vice Vegas is known for. As the lawns expand in size, more of the natural beauty becomes visible. I’m reminded that we’re not far from the Grand Canyon.
“Maybe it’s some sort of country club,” I say.
“Oh.” Alec sits back in his seat. “That’s possible.”
We’re silent, and my heart rate quickens, once again conscious these might be the last moments I spend with Alec alone. What can I say when he has meant everything to me? How can I simply wish him good luck in the rest of his life and leave it at that?
“We’re here.” Alec’s voice is curt, and he pulls into an elegant clubhouse with fancy columns adorning its façade. He shuts off the engine, and my stomach hurts. I haven’t said anything. I wasted our last moments, and he’ll never know how much I care about him. Alec steps from the car. His door slams, too loud in the stillness, and I jut my chin out. Sometimes life just sucks. I found the perfect person, something people spend their whole lives trying to do, sometimes unsuccessfully, but a relationship is impossible.
We stroll toward the entrance. Flowers burst from vases, and jazz music streams from an open window. We are definitely in the right place, and my chest tightens. I try to think of what I will tell my mother. There’s no way to do it that won’t make her upset with me or with Brad. But it needs to be done, and I put on my shades and stride toward the curved reception desk, where a gentleman in a red suit with gold buttons welcomes me.
“Is there a wedding here today?”
“There are many weddings today. Which party are you with?”
I turn to Alec. There’s still time for us to rush out of here. Still time for us to let Mom marry Brad and for Alec and me to remain together. We did warn her after all. Both of us. In fact, she explicitly said she didn’t want us to stop the wedding. I sigh because I know there’s no way I can do that, no matter how tempting the option is. “Brad and Angela’s wedding.”
The man enters some things on his computer screen and then frowns at me. “Are you sure they were expecting you?”
I squirm as his eyes narrow. “Um . . .”
“We wanted to surprise them.” Alec flashes a charming smile, and my heartbeat speeds up, like he has a special arrow straight to it. I’m not sure how anyone, anywhere could resist him. I wish I never had to.
The receptionist tucks a strand of hair under his ear, and his lips part as he takes in Alec. I don’t blame him. The man is gorgeous. I angle my body away from the receptionist in case he recognizes me.
“Unfortunately,” the man coughs and then sips a glass of water, as if speaking with Alec is too much for him to handle, �
��they’re not here.”
“They haven’t arrived?” My eyebrows shoot up.
The receptionist shakes his head.
“You mean they’re not getting married after all?” Alec shoots me a wide-eyed look, and I allow hope to grow in my chest.
Perhaps my mother reconsidered after our conversation last night. Perhaps everything will be all right after all. Perhaps then Alec and I continue to see each other, as friends, and then perhaps I can announce that we are more than friends.
The receptionist chuckles. “They should be getting married just about now.”
“But . . .” I rub my hand through my hair.
“Come on.” The receptionist seems to take pity on us. “I’ll show you.”
Maybe there’s still time. I imagine bursting into the ceremony and then stopping the wedding, romantic comedy-style.
Except there’s no other man to sweep my mother off her feet, no perfect prince to ride her off into the sunset. There’s just me to ruin her wedding. My fists tighten. I can do this. I will do this for her.
We stride through a hallway with a rich red carpet. Paintings of enamoured couples line the walls. The décor is fancy, and we must be nearing the ceremony.
The receptionist throws open elegant French doors, and we stare at mountains and trees. I blink. “Is the wedding outdoors? I can’t see . . .”
The receptionist points to the sky. “It’s happening right now. See?”
A gold-and-white striped balloon floats high above us in the sky.
“They’re getting married in a balloon?” I gasp.
“Yep,” the receptionist says. “One of our most popular offerings. Champagne wedding and balloon ride.”
My Stepbrother the Rock Star (Men of Midnight Dreams Book 2) Page 12
