Sometime After Midnight
Page 30
Nate’s laughter dies, his face softening. “And I love you, Richard Cameron Pierce Junior.”
My heart does this wonderful little tap dance inside my chest. “I love you too, Nathan Mitchell Grisheimer.”
“How did you know my middle name?” Nate asks, brow raised. “The paparazzi didn’t even know that.”
“I didn’t. But I guessed you were probably named after your dad.” I pull him back into my arms. “He’d be so proud.”
“He is proud, I just know it,” Nate gently corrects me. “And so is yours.”
I hold him, letting us both bask in Nate’s words for a moment. Then, with a nod toward the crowd awaiting us, I say, “We’d better get going. Stardom is calling.”
Nate glances outside at the paparazzi, cameras poised, then turns back to me, mischief sparkling in his eyes. “Stardom can wait.”
I look at him, so tempting with his wicked smile and tight jeans and hand-decorated Chucks. I’ve never been one to resist temptation, so I kiss him, holding nothing back even as a hundred flashes go off at once all around us.
And that is going to make for one hell of a headline.
Acknowledgments
This book would not have been possible without the help of some wonderful and talented people:
First and foremost is my editor, Alex Ulyett, who loved Nate and Cam as I did and opened new doors for them with every suggestion he made.
Brent Taylor, world’s best agent, who is there for all the freak-outs, good and bad.
John Finck, who this introvert never tires of talking with, whether it’s about music, movies, or writing, but especially writing. I am so glad we admitted to each other that we “sometimes write stuff” that fateful day in my music classroom. You always make my books better. You make my life better.
Kate Hering, my book midwife. Because of you, labor pains aren’t so bad.
Melissa Lawson, who knows just the right support to give and how and when to give it. You are a true friend, my dear, and I can only hope to be the same for you.
Jackie Pierce and Jenny Roberts, because I never stop laughing with you. Curse and swear. And Ken Roberts, too. Proud to be part of your harem.
The Girls, my daily respite from the real world: Jenn Hoey, Sarah Prashaw, and Kristy Mishler. Thanks to you, even bags of toenails can’t get me down.
Lisa Johnson, who helped with the ins and outs of the recording industry.
And lastly but not leastly (it’s a word because now it’s in a book), my parents, without whom I doubt I could have survived these last few years. Thank you so much for all you do for me and Phil.
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