Everything I Want

by MacMillan, Jerica

  Both hands on my head, I turn and face the wall, forcing myself to take deep breaths so I don’t punch a hole in said wall. A short time later, there’s another knock on the door.

  “What?!” I roar.

  The door cracks open, then little fingers wrap around it. It opens slowly, revealing a sweet face that makes me think I’m hallucinating.

  But the little body attached to the face comes barreling at me full speed, shrieking, “Daddy!” at the top of her lungs.

  I crouch down and scoop Maddie into my arms, hugging her tightly and looking past her at Sam standing in the open doorway. Large rolling suitcase behind her. Backpack slung on one shoulder.

  She spreads her hands, her face hopeful. “Surprise.”

  “Oh my god,” I breathe. “What are you doing here?”

  She steps into the room, pulling the suitcase behind her. “We missed you,” she says, shutting the door. The room is crowded with the three of us and a giant suitcase in here, but I wouldn’t care if we were in an actual closet. They’re here. My girls are here.

  I reach for her, and she steps under my arm, wrapping her arms around my waist and tipping her face up to mine for a kiss. I have to keep it brief and chaste, considering that our daughter has her face pressed against my other cheek and her arms practically strangling me with her death grip. “I missed you so much, Daddy,” she whispers. “Don’t go away again.”

  Sam must’ve heard her, because she reaches up and pats Maddie on the back. “Daddy’s not going anywhere without us after this.”

  I pull back, in shock. “What?”

  Sam’s grin turns sheepish. “If that’s okay with you still. You did say you wanted us to come with you. I know I took longer to think about it than you would’ve liked, but I’ve been thinking about it nonstop for weeks. I quit my job and put most of our stuff in storage, packed up the essentials and bought us a plane ticket.”

  “How … Why didn’t you tell me?”

  She shrugs. “I wanted to surprise you. Kendra helped me plan the details. And I think she got Blaire in on it too.”

  And now Blaire’s weird looks and stifled laughter make sense. She knew Sam and Maddie were on their way. I blink, reframing the entire day. “That’s why you couldn’t answer your phone. Were you already at the arena when we talked?”

  She nods, biting her lip. “Yeah. I didn’t want you to hear me in the hall and in your ear. That would ruin the surprise.”

  “Oh my god,” I say again. “Wow.”

  “Is this okay?”

  I squeeze her and Maddie to me. “Are you kidding me? It’s better than okay.”

  With a kiss on Maddie’s cheek, and a big slobbery kiss back, I finally manage to put her down so I can kiss Sam properly. Still not as thoroughly as I’d like with our pint-sized audience and the timer counting down to showtime, but better than before. Sinking into our kiss, I bask in her taste. The feel of her body. And the knowledge that I finally have everything I ever wanted.

  Epilogue

  Blaire

  Angry voices backstage always ping my internal radar. Even if they’re not angry voices from any of my band members, I still want to know what’s going on. Maybe I can help.

  I squint at a cluster of men off to one side of the backstage area at the festival. They’re gesturing, punctuating louder syllables, but it’s hard to make out what’s going on.

  Slowly, I pick my way through the ropes of cables that litter the floor backstage at any concert venue, but especially when there are multiple sound systems and special effects rigs hooked up to the various stages on any of the stops on the summer festival circuit.

  This is my favorite time of year, though. My favorite part of touring. Meeting other bands, other managers, other assistants. Helping where I can and filling my proverbial credit line with favors owed so that I can call on them whenever my boys need something that I somehow haven’t planned for. Or that Blake, our tour manager, hasn’t planned for. Since he’s the one I end up cleaning up after more often than not.

  “You were supposed to take care of this,” I hear as I get closer. “How could you have fucked this up? Again.”

  Uh-oh. Someone’s in trouble.

  I roll my lips between my teeth to hide my urge to grin. I shouldn’t be so happy about someone else fucking things up. But that means I have the opportunity to work my magic.

  “What seems to be the problem, boys?”

  The three—no, four—men turn my way in unison, every one of them giving me elevator eyes. You know, down, then back up, stopping on my chest before finally returning to my face. I lift my eyebrows expectantly.

  One of them gives me a lazy grin. “Nothing you need to worry your pretty little head about, I’m sure.”

  I let out the immediate bark of laughter that comes from that. “I’m sure I don’t. But you’re over here yelling and growling at each other, and I’m exceptionally well connected here. So if there’s something you need taken care of, I’m your girl.”

  That lazy grin stretches wider. “I’d be happy to let you take care of me anytime.”

  I roll my eyes at the poor attempt at a double entendre. “Seriously? That’s the best you can come up with?” Scanning the remaining three, my eyes land on the one who’s the tallest and most imposing. Also the most recognizable.

  My heart racing, I manage to keep my composure without going all fangirly over the fact that Beckett Stone is here in front of me and I might be able to help him. I give him a polite smile. “What seems to be the problem?”

  His eyes narrow a fraction, his full, kissable lips purse as he considers whether to say anything, but then he crosses his arms and gives a quick shake of his head. “My manager”—he gestures at the man who’s still leering at me—“claims he booked me a hotel room, but the hotel has no record of a reservation. And all the hotels are booked solid because of the festival, so I have nowhere to stay tonight.” He cuts his eyes to the manager, who’s at least stopped leering at my tits.

  His face gets hard, and he puffs out his chest. “I told you that I made the reservation months ago. It’s not my fault that uptight bitch at the hotel couldn’t find it.”

  “Hey, now,” I cut in. “No need to call names. I’m sure she was just doing her job.” I don’t bother adding the implied ending that he isn’t doing his job. Because seriously? You’re the manager and you didn’t double check your reservation before you showed up? I make Blake double check, and then I triple check everything, a week out and then again when we’re about to leave for the next stop. What a dumbass. To Beckett Stone I say, “Let me see what I can do.”

  Giving them my back, I pull out my phone and start scrolling through my contacts. I don’t really want to give up one of my favors for these guys, especially with that douchey manager in the picture, but it’s Beckett Stone. I grew up on his music. When I heard that he was one of the headliners here, I’d hoped I might get to meet him. But I never expected to end up face to face with him like this.

  Decision made, I make a few phone calls, call in a favor or two I’d hoped to save until we were back here again, and when I hang up, I turn back around, my attention on the famous rockstar who was the object of my first and most enduring celebrity crush. “I’ve got the details of your new reservation right here. Give me your email, and I’ll forward them to you.”

  His eyebrows shoot up, but before he can answer, his manager interrupts. “No. Send them to me.” And he rattles off an email address that I forget as soon as I hear it.

  I give him a bored look. “You think I’m going to trust you with this information when you already screwed up his reservation? I don’t think so.” Facing Beckett Stone again, I look at him expectantly.

  His full lips twitch as he steps closer, the coconutty scent of suntan lotion mixing with a light cologne and underscored by an earthier male smell tickles my nose, and his low voice sends tingles down my spine as he murmurs his email address to me.

  After hitting send, I give him my
best smile. “There you go. Have a nice stay.”

  My work done, I turn to walk away. But before I get far, a hand catches my elbow, that same coconut-cologne-man smell washing over me.

  “Hey,” he says. His dark eyes are serious and probing when they meet mine. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”

  I shrug. “No problem. I’m happy to help. Just remember this when I need a favor in the future, alright?”

  He chuckles, showing off his even white teeth. “Fair enough.” He glances back at the cluster of men he just left, then back at me, seeming to consider something. Crossing his arms, he seems to have come to a decision. “You need a job? Because I think I have an opening for a new manager.”

  My eyebrows bounce up. “Do you now?”

  He nods once.

  Feeling bold, I reach out and pat his arm where his biceps bulge. Since he’s wearing a white tank, there’s no barrier between his skin and mine, and on the inside I’m squealing with delight. But on the outside, I keep my tone light. “I already have a job. But thanks for the offer anyway.”

  I feel his eyes on me as I flounce away. And when I look back before disappearing around a corner, they’re glued to my ass.

  While the offer of becoming a manager is tempting, there’s no way that he’s serious. If I thought he were, I’d be hard-pressed not to take it. While the summer festival season is my favorite, the pervasive loneliness that’s been the hallmark of the last chunk of touring definitely isn’t. With Aaron’s new family along for the ride, I haven’t been myself. Sam’s great. I actually really like her, which makes it hard to be mad at them. But things aren’t the same. Everyone’s pairing up, falling in love, procreating. And I’m just left on the outside. With people looking at me and Mason like we’ll be the next to announce an engagement or pregnancy. And while I like Mason just fine, that’s not in the cards for us.

  Stopping around the corner, I glance back the way I came, contemplating. Maybe he wasn’t serious about his offer, but maybe the general idea isn’t so terrible.

  Maybe it’s time for a change after all.

  Dear Reader,

  Thank you so much for joining Aaron and Sam on their journey! I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did. Their story was a little crazy to write, but a lot of fun. And having an cute kid in the mix just adds to it, don’t you think? Plus, it gives me an excuse to revisit some of my favorite characters, like Danny, Ava, Eli, Marcus, and Kendra.

  Want to see more of Aaron and Sam? Click here to download a free bonus chapter!

  If you’ve made it this far, please go leave a review! Reviews are like hugs for authors, and I appreciate each one more than you know. In fact, if you email me a link to your review (keep reading to find my contact info), you’ll get a personal thank you!

  The question I always get almost immediately after releasing a book, especially for this series, is When is the next book out?

  Wellllll … as of right now, June 13, 2019, I haven’t actually started Blaire’s book. BUT, I plan on starting it soon, and hope to release in September or October. Characters can be fickle sometimes, though, as can life, so I don’t like to give firm release dates until the book is in edits. And I have to write it first. :-)

  There’s good news, though. If you enter your email address to download the bonus scene, you’ll get updates about the progress of the book, plus some other free stories. All for the low, low price of letting me send you some emails a few times a month max.

  If email’s not really your thing, or you just want to interact with me more, head on over to my Facebook group. I post snippets of books in progress as well as updates on where I am in the writing of the next book.

  If you haven’t read the other books in this series, start here. And if you’re jonesing for another rockstar romance of mine, I highly recommend the Songs and Sonatas series. Keep reading for an excerpt from the first book, Double Exposition. This series is actually a spin off from that series. (Which is a spin off of my Players of Marycliff University series. It’s all related.)

  Thanks again for reading! Hope to (virtually) see you soon!

  Jerica

  As always, there is a list of people to thank in the writing of this book.

  To my editor, Deb Markanton, who only made me add three thousand words to this book (yay!).

  To Leslie McAdam, who’s read every single thing I’ve written (and vice versa), and cheered me on through all of it. I’d also like to acknowledge that I’m using the British spelling of acknowledgements and you can’t stop me! Haha! (I reiterate that you can pry the British e from my cold, dead hands.) I’d also like to acknowledge that I’m absolutely terrible at putting hyphens in the right places in my own writing, and that Leslie makes me delete the unnecessary ones and put in the ones that are needed.

  To the random dude in the gym with the cool tattoo of a forest scene on his forearm. Thanks for telling me the story behind it and letting me have a closer look. I’d acknowledge you by name, but because I’m bad at peopling, I never asked yours, and I haven’t actually seen you since that conversation. But I stole your story and adapted it a little bit, and you helped flesh out the backstory for Aaron, so thank you very much for your help and indulgence of the crazy, weirdo at the gym.

  To my ARC team for always making time for my books, even when I don’t give you notice that they’re coming until like a week before release. You’re the best. *mwah*

  To my Junkies, who seem to enjoy my particular brand of crazy. You make it easy to share my books and make it more fun to be an author. Thank you.

  And last but definitely not least, to you, my reader. You help bring my characters to life. Without you, none of this would be possible.

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  I love hearing from and getting to know my readers. You’re invited to join my closed reader group on Facebook, Jerica MacMillan’s Book Junkies.

  If you prefer less interaction, hit the follow button on any of these platforms to keep up with me and what’s new:

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  Or, if you want to speak to me directly (or email me a review link for a personal thank you), feel free to email me at contact@jericamacmillan.com.

  Did you enjoy this story? Please leave a review at your favorite ebook retailer!

  Jerica MacMillan is a lifelong reader and lover of romance. Nothing beats escaping into a book and watching people fall in love, overcome obstacles, and find their happily ever after. She was recently named a semi finalist in Harlequin’s So You Think You Can Write 2015 contest.

  Jerica is living her happily ever after in North Idaho with her husband and two children. She spends her days building with blocks, admiring preschooler artwork, and writing while her baby naps in the sling. Sign up to receive updates on her reading and writing life at www.JericaMacMillan.com.

  Cataclysm

  Anything You Need

  Shouldn’t Want You

  Everything I Want

  Songs and Sonatas Series

  Double Exposition

  Development

  Recapitulation

  Broken Chords

  Counterpoint and Harmony

  Players of Marycliff University

  Summer Fling

  Convenient Fall

  Opening Hearts, A Players of Marycliff University Novella

  Managed Hearts

  Unsaid Things

  Coping Skills

  False Assumptions

  Rebound Series

  Rebound Therapy

  Rebound Envy

  Rebound Revival

  Keep reading for a sn
eak peek at Double Exposition

  Chapter One

  Jonathan

  After paying for my coffee, I turn and survey the campus coffee shop. It’s crowded, not an empty table in sight.

  I should’ve known better. It’s only the second week of classes. Everyone’s still getting into a rhythm, me included. There are three times when the coffee shop is guaranteed to be packed: the beginning of a semester, the week of midterms, and finals week. With six semesters already under my belt, I know this.

  But I have a gap in my schedule on Tuesdays and Thursdays. It’s only ninety minutes, so not long enough to make going home worthwhile. I’ve meandered around campus during this hole last week and on Tuesday. Today I’d hoped to grab a coffee and a table and get through some reading for my Victorian Literature class with Dr. Rankin. She’s a ballbuster, and there’s no way to bullshit your way through her class discussions. But she’s also one of the best professors in the English department.

  Resigned to finding a less comfortable spot on a bench outside, I grab my coffee when my order is called. But my attention snags on a fall of dark brown hair at a table in the corner. I can’t see her face from here, just the curve of her neck as she sweeps her long hair over one shoulder and bends back to whatever she’s working on, pencil in hand.