Waking Up Married: A Rock Star Rom Com
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WAKING UP MARRIED
© 2019 Lisa Suzanne
All rights reserved. In accordance with the US Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher or author constitute unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except where permitted by law and except for excerpts used in reviews. If you would like to use any words from this book other than for review purposes, prior written permission must be obtained from the publisher.
Published in the United States of America by Books by LS, LLC.
This book is a work of fiction. Any similarities to real people, living or dead, is purely coincidental. All characters and events in this work are figments of the author’s imagination.
Cover Design: Najla Qamber Designs
Cover Photograph: Wander Aguiar
Cover Models: Florian and Laura
Content Editing: It’s Your Story Content Editing
Proofreading: Proofreading by Katie
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BOOKS BY LISA SUZANNE
A LITTLE LIKE DESTINY SERIES
A LITTLE LIKE DESTINY (Book One)
ONLY EVER YOU (Book Two)
CLEAN BREAK (Book Three)
THE UNBREAKABLE THREAD DUET
THE POWER TO BREAK (Book One)
THE POWER TO BREAK - AUDIOBOOK
THE INVISIBLE THREAD (Book Two)
THE INVISIBLE THREAD - AUDIOBOOK
THE TRUTH AND LIES DUET
IT STARTED WITH A LIE
IT ENDED WITH THE TRUTH
MY FAVORITE BAND STANDALONES
TAKE MY HEART
THE BENEFITS OF BAD DECISIONS
CLICK HERE FOR MORE
DEDICATION
Twenty-five books in, and it’s still all for you…and our two little ones.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
CHAPTER 1: ADAM
CHAPTER 2: EMILY
CHAPTER 3: ADAM
CHAPTER 4: ADAM
CHAPTER 5: EMILY
CHAPTER 6: ADAM
CHAPTER 7: EMILY
CHAPTER 8: ADAM
CHAPTER 9: EMILY
CHAPTER 10: EMILY
CHAPTER 11: ADAM
CHAPTER 12: ADAM
CHAPTER 13: EMILY
CHAPTER 14: ADAM
CHAPTER 15: EMILY
CHAPTER 16: ADAM
CHAPTER 17: EMILY
CHAPTER 18: ADAM
CHAPTER 19: EMILY
CHAPTER 20: EMILY
CHAPTER 21: ADAM
CHAPTER 22: EMILY
CHAPTER 23: ADAM
CHAPTER 24: ADAM
CHAPTER 25: EMILY
CHAPTER 26: ADAM
CHAPTER 27: EMILY
CHAPTER 28: ADAM
CHAPTER 29: EMILY
CHAPTER 30: EMILY
CHAPTER 31: ADAM
CHAPTER 32: EMILY
CHAPTER 33: EMILY
CHAPTER 34: ADAM
CHAPTER 35: EMILY
CHAPTER 36: ADAM
CHAPTER 37: EMILY
CHAPTER 38: ADAM
CHAPTER 39: EMILY
CHAPTER 40: ADAM
CHAPTER 41: EMILY
CHAPTER 42: ADAM
CHAPTER 43: EMILY
CHAPTER 44: ADAM
CHAPTER 45: EMILY
CHAPTER 46: EMILY
CHAPTER 47: ADAM
CHAPTER 48: EMILY
CHAPTER 49: EMILY
CHAPTER 50: EMILY
CHAPTER 51: ADAM
CHAPTER 52: EMILY
EPILOGUE: ADAM
CHAPTER 1: ADAM
“Oh my God! You’re Adam Wilson from MFB!”
I give her a humble smile and tip the pint glass filled with Guinness to my lips. “I am,” I affirm before taking a sip.
“I’m Blair. You have to let me buy you a shot,” she says. Her blonde locks swing around her shoulders. “I just saw you up on that stage playing guitar and holy shit I would just die to do a shot of sex on the beach with you.” She leans in close, and I can smell the peach schnapps from the shots she’s already done tonight. “And more, if you know what I mean.”
I know what she means.
It’s this part of the business I’m least comfortable with.
“Oh my God, it’s Rascal!” she says when she sees who’s sitting beside me. Her friend is already chatting up William Rascowicz, MFB’s keyboardist and the guy I’m sitting with—the only other single guy in my band, for the record. “This is insane! We literally just watched your show. It was amazing.” She’s gushing as she presses her tits to my arm.
I know where this is leading. I glance over at Rascal, who nods to let me know he’s interested in pursuing the friend, and then the bartender places four shots in front of us.
I toss back the shot with the girl whose name I’ve already forgotten.
This really isn’t my style. I’m not planning to do another shot, and I’m certainly not planning to go back with her to her place.
Except it appears one of my buddies is trying to hook up with her friend, so I’m probably doing another shot and I’m probably going to her place because that’s what wingmen do, isn’t it? I’m here to help him get laid even if I’m not getting myself laid tonight.
I’ve been told I’m a rare breed. I’m much more of a relationship kind of guy versus a one-night stand kind of guy. I’m more likely to sit with a Guinness for an hour talking with the guys in my band about how we can get MFB to level up even higher than to sit in a bar trolling for hook-ups.
The same can’t be said for most guys in my line of work.
I guess I’m just not used to the single life yet even though it’s been six months. I’m free to do whatever I want—including hooking up with this gorgeous woman who clearly wants me—but it just doesn’t feel like the right thing to do.
I hate when my morals get in the way. My stupid, self-loathing morals.
A second shot burns down my throat and warms my chest as those morals find themselves moving up to a dusty shelf.
Sober Adam has pinned down why this isn’t his thing. When I was with my ex, the sex was good because I loved her. Feelings were involved. I knew she’d be there the next day and the day after and the day after that. I was comfortable and content.
I wasn’t lonely.
I didn’t feel like my ex only wanted me because I’m a celebrity. She was with me before stardom found our little band. She was along for the ride even if it’s what ultimately tore us apart.
I don’t feel that same sentiment with this girl.
She doesn’t know who I am except for how I’ve been portrayed by the media and on the reality show we starred in a year ago, Rock on the Road. She doesn’t care who I am, either. She just wants a night with a rock star. She doesn’t want it to go any further than that, and knowing what I know about her—that she’s the kind of girl who will buy a rock star shots in a bar and offer to bring him home before she even said four complete sentences to him—it all tells me that I shouldn’t do this.
But three sex on the beach shots plus some beer has turned Sober Adam into someone who really doesn’t care about being comfortable or content or lonely or not.
He just cares about having
a good time.
And Claire is a really fun time.
Claire, right? Or was it Cher? Blair?
Whatever. I’m laughing at something she said and I don’t even remember what it was. I might’ve if I hadn’t been three beers deep before the shots came out. She’s fun, and Rascal looks like he’s having a good time, and it’s just one night, right? I’m not drunk, exactly, just toasted enough to not feel bad when she leans in, presses her tits to my chest, and smashes her lips to mine. We’re making out in the middle of the bar and it’s all good.
I can’t even remember what city we’re in, but when the fog clears in the morning, I’ll figure it out.
A few minutes later, I find myself with Blair in the back of a Lyft and Rascal and Blair’s roommate are going after it in the third row behind us. This is a typical Monday night, I guess. Her name came back to me when her friend asked her if she wanted to get out of the bar and used her name to get her attention.
When we get to their apartment, Rascal disappears with the roommate into one bedroom while Blair leads me down the hallway to another.
She kisses me again once the door shuts behind her, but the Lyft ride over here was a little too sobering.
I don’t want to do this.
It isn’t me.
I helped my friend get here, and he’s getting whatever it is he’s getting in another room, so my job here is done.
“I’m just going to go freshen up.” Blair disappears to the bathroom, which was the exact cliché I’d banked on.
When she returns, I pretend to be passed out.
She straddles me anyway as she tries to wake me up, but I don’t budge.
She sighs in annoyance, but she moves away. I almost crack an eye open to see what she’s doing when I feel her breath on my cheek. “I love you, Adam Wilson,” she whispers. I hear the camera on her phone as she presumably clicks a selfie of the two of us, and then I feel her lips on my cheek before the room goes dark and quiet.
My heart thunders in my chest.
She’s going to post that on social media. People will think we had sex when we didn’t.
But I don’t really care what people think of me. If she wants to portray herself a certain way, that’s on her.
I know the truth, and that’s all that matters.
I’d like to say I got a great night’s sleep after that, but between listening to Rascal and the roommate through the thin walls of the apartment and worrying that the (snoring) chick in bed next to me is gonna go all Fatal Attraction on me, I basically lay awake all night.
When I hear Blair get out of bed in the morning, I finally open my eyes. I scroll my phone and find out I’m in Cleveland, and I’m thankful it’s a travel day and we don’t have a gig to get to tonight. Instead I can sleep on the bus.
I don’t feel too bad all things considered. I didn’t sleep with Blair but managed to get my friend laid, and I don’t have a hangover.
The morning seems to be going fine until the door opens and Blair walks in with a tray. “I made you breakfast in bed.”
I raise my brows and I’m about to thank her because that’s such a nice thing to do for a hook-up when she says, “And you can eat just as soon as we have sex.”
My eyes widen, and I’m about to come up with some retort when I hear some commotion from the room next door. My eyes meet Blair’s, and her brows shoot down in some combination of confusion and curiosity.
She steps back out into the hallway, breakfast tray still in hand, and I use the distraction to get the fuck out of this bed. I move beside her, the smell of the omelet and potatoes on the tray wafting to my nose and making my stomach growl.
“Get the fuck out!” the roommate screeches, and Rascal seemingly is literally thrown from her room before her door slams shut.
He glances over at the two of us standing there watching, his red curls bouncing like some sort of caricature of a human being. He knocks on the door a little timidly, and when there’s no answer, he yells through the wood. “Can I, uh, have my shoes?”
The door doesn’t open, the shoes aren’t returned, and Rascal looks over at me. “Ready to head out?”
I laugh, but yeah...I’m ready.
CHAPTER 2: EMILY
I stare at the four little words.
I love you too.
Too. That indicates that he said it first, and this person is replying.
I don’t know who the contact in my boyfriend’s phone named Harry Lloyd is or why this person is texting him that they love him too, but I intend to find out as soon as he gets back from the bathroom.
I hold his phone up and wave it around calmly from where I sit on the couch we share in the apartment where we live together. “Who’s Harry Lloyd?”
The color drains from his face, but he recovers quickly. “A friend from work.”
“You have a friend named Harry Lloyd at work? Why haven’t I heard of him before?” He drones on and on ad nauseam about people from work, so if he’s close enough with Harry to text him, he’d tell me about him. And if he loves this Harry guy, well, then surely I’d be in the loop. Unless he’s lying, and he’s been caught.
He glances nervously at the television, where our favorite slapstick comedy, Dumb and Dumber, plays.
“Wait a minute,” I say, connecting the dots. “Harry? Lloyd? Like the main characters in this movie?” I jab my thumb toward the screen and stand. “Who is she?” I ask, my voice a lethal hiss as I throw his phone at him. He misses the catch, and it bounces onto the floor.
He glances from the television to me and then down at his phone, and then he heaves out a breath. “I’m sorry, Emily.” His voice is soft.
“Who. Is. She.” I repeat the question, punctuating each word as I grit them out through clenched teeth.
“It’s Beth.” He says the words quickly and quietly, like ripping off a bandage.
But we all know how much that hurts.
“Beth?” My legs seem to give out as I fall to the couch behind me. “Beth?” I repeat. “As in one of my closest friends?”
“This isn’t how I wanted you to find out...”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” My legs seem to find themselves again and I stand. I move slowly toward him as my voice rises in volume. “This isn’t how you wanted me to find out?” I jab my finger in his chest, and he stumbles back a step. “You didn’t want me to find out at all or you wouldn’t have hidden her under some fake name!”
“I know, I know. Calm down.” He’s trying to appease me, but calm down is pretty much the last thing you should say to a woman who’s as pissed off as I am.
“I will not calm down!” I scream at him. In my anger in the heat of this moment, I just want him gone. I don’t think about the fact that technically it’s his apartment and it’s his furniture, not ours. “I hate you! We’re over. Done.” I point at the door. “Now get out! Get the fuck out!”
He looks around the apartment, and then he looks at me. “This is my place. Where do you expect me to go?”
I stare at him for a minute. I can’t believe the irony that we were just watching a movie called Dumb and Dumber. I’m not sure which one I am and which one he is right now...me for believing his lies, or him for being the lying, cheating asshole he is.
Not to mention Beth. What a damn traitor that bitch turned out to be.
I shake my head. “Forget it. I’ll go.” I grab my purse and keys and stalk out before he has a chance to stop me.
I call the first person I can think of after I slide into the driver’s seat of my car.
“Hey girlie, can I call you right back?” Amber answers, her voice filling my car through my speakers.
“Chad has been cheating on me with Beth,” I blurt.
“Oh my God!” She mutters something to someone, and then she comes back to me. “What? How’d you find out?”
“I was waiting for him to come back from the bathroom so we could finish our movie, and I saw a text come through. I wasn’t snooping. It was just sit
ting there on the couch, like he was waiting for me to catch him.” A lightbulb seems to go off above my head. “Holy shit, Amber. He was waiting for me to catch him.” I rest my head on my steering wheel as the realization hits me. “Why else would he risk leaving his phone there when he obviously has something to hide? Why else wouldn’t he immediately deny it?” I sit up and slam my open palm on the side of my steering wheel. “Why would he cop to it so damn easily?”
“Take a deep breath, Em. Are you okay to drive?”
I sniffle, but it’s sort of like when you hurt yourself and the shock of the injury keeps you from feeling the pain for a few seconds. I’m in that few seconds of shock part. This’ll hurt later, but for now, I think I can get myself to Amber’s place safely. “Yeah,” I finally squeak out.
I hear her muffled voice. “I need to run. Can you hold these for me for a few hours?” Her voice gets louder as she talks to me. “I’m on my way home. Meet me there, but stay on the line with me, okay?”
“Yeah.” I start the car, and we’re both quiet as she starts hers, too.
“Can I be honest with you?” she asks.
“Always.” I back out of my space and start the short trek toward her house on the beach. It’s approximately two miles from the apartment I share with Chad...shared with Chad.
“I always knew you could do better than that piece of shit.”
I can’t help my laugh. Amber never holds back, which is one of the things I love about her...but the way she can just be so damn blunt all the time can also be one of her biggest flaws.
“Tell me how you really feel,” I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm as I cruise through an intersection, managing to make the first light on the way to her place.
“You want me to sugar coat it?”
I sigh. “No, I don’t.” I don’t want anyone defending that piece of shit, as Amber so lovingly just referred to my ex-boyfriend. “Tell me how you feel about Beth, too.”
“That backstabbing whore? Some friend she is. Don’t worry, she’s on my blackball list forever.”