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At Last: Part II [NC-17] - A Sequel [COMPLETE] - getclayaiken.com (a WMS reprise)

I guess I have a bit of George Lucas syndrome when it comes to this story.

The Original, The Sequel, and then the Prequel. If you haven't read the original, that's fine.

Naturally, the sequel draws from the original [events from the first story play into the second], but it also stands on its own.

If you like this story enough to want to read the original or you want to read the original story first, it's here: At Last: The Original Story .

And if you're new the story, you should start with the prequel: At Last: The Beginning . This post has been edited by Mandler : Dec 16 2007, 02:17 PM

Chapter 1 December 2020 Clay bent over at the waist to unlace his boots.

The force of his weight made them squeak on the tile in the laundry room.

As he sat them in a corner next to the washing machine, he noticed that the melted snow had left tiny puddles everywhere.

Mentally apologizing to Amanda, he carefully stepped over the puddles in his socks without cleaning the floor.

Halfway through his flight, a dull headache had started in the back of his head.

As he hung up his coat in the closet just inside the door, he noticed that the headache had moved to his temples - he could feel each throb of his pulse.

The first twinges of sleep began to wash through his system, his body aware that a warm, comfortable bed was only a hallway away.

He was in the middle of a yawn, in fact, when he walked past the entryway of the great room, and a splash of chocolate brown caught his eye - one of the throws usually draped over the back of the couch.

As tired as he was, the sight of Amanda curled up on the couch asleep brought a smile to his lips.

He had told her not to wait up, that with the delay, his flight wouldn't be getting in until two in the morning.

His feet sinking into the deep pile of the carpet much like they had sunk into the snow outside, he quietly walked across the room and crouched down in front of her.

Her hair looked like burnished gold in the low light as it spilled over her shoulders.

A week away from her meant that his gaze lovingly passed over her sleeping features.

He was unconsciously reacquainting himself to the shadow of her lashes and the tiny freckle just above the peak of her lip when she seemed to take a deep breath, and he lifted his eyes to find her staring at him. "Welcome home," she whispered, smiling. Leaning in to kiss her gently, he smiled as he pulled back.

"You weren't supposed to wait up." "I didn't.

I was asleep." He grinned.

"True. But you should be in bed." She pulled her arm from beneath the throw, touching the tips of his hair.

"Your hair is wet.

Is it snowing again?" He nodded.

"Started on the way home from the airport." He chuckled.

"Remind me to tell you about the cab driver in the morning.

I probably should have told him that I couldn't get his niece a recording contract, no matter how talented she is, but I hated to dampen his enthusiasm." Amanda laughed softly.

"How was the gala?" Four times a year, his foundation hosted galas for both current and potential sponsors.

The last quarter gala had been held in Los Angeles, and Clay had also been scheduled to record a duet on a friend's album that winter.

Although he had retired from his music career years before, he still tried to make time to do small projects for friends if he could.

Rather than make two trips to the coast, he had left Raleigh a few days earlier than he normally would have to spend some time in the studio before he helped set up for the gala. "How about I tell you over breakfast?" he asked, yawning again.

She nodded and pushed the throw aside to sit up and swing her legs over the side of the couch.

Clay stood, his knees reminding him that he had turned forty-two not two weeks earlier.

His brow furrowed, watching her stand.

"Why were you sleeping in your robe?" He smirked.

"And I think you're the only woman who can make fleece sexy." She smiled before turning her back to him as she folded the throw in half and leaned forward to lay it over the back of the couch.

"I'm sleeping in my robe..." She turned around and slid her arms up his chest, inwardly sighing at the solid feel of his body that she had missed during the past week.

"...because I didn't want to freeze in my pajamas ." Clay's eyes lowered to the opening of her robe.

In the semi-darkness, he could only see skin and what appeared to be black lace.

But he could see a lot of skin.

"Oh, Darlin'," he whispered appreciatively. She laughed, trailing her lips along the angle of his jaw as his fingers found the knot of her robe and eased it loose.

"You still feel like sleeping?" she asked, feeling the heat of his palm on her skin. "I think I just got my second wind," he murmured, bending his head and kissing the swell of her breast. Amanda shivered, feeling her nipple harden beneath his hand.

"Did I mention that Shelby is at your mom's and Adam is staying at Brett and Hilary's?

For the whole weekend ." A satisfied sound rumbled in his throat, and he lifted his head to look at her beneath lowered lids.

"Was getting the kids out of the house a birthday gift from Mom and Brett?" Amanda turned thirty-eight that weekend, and after a week apart, he intended to give her the gift of exhaustion this year.

Had she not already arranged it, he would have suggested that Adam and Shelby spend the weekend away from home.

At fourteen and ten, it was easy to convince them to stay with friends or relatives on occasion.

When Shelby had gone through the phase of not wanting to be away from them when she was six, Clay had nearly gone out of his mind trying to find alone time with Amanda.

Staring at her now, Clay realized the throbbing in his head had ceased.

Or maybe it had just moved south, he thought as he curved both hands over her satin-covered backside and lifted her just enough to make her gasp and make himself groan.

"If so, remind me to thank them." Amanda found Clay's lips with her own, her arms wrapped around his shoulders for support.

He opened his mouth on hers, his hands leaving her bottom and hips to push the robe off her shoulders.

Skimming his tongue along the smooth inside of her mouth, he tugged on the shirt tucked into his pants and then turned them both around.

When he pulled his lips from hers, her moan of protest corresponded with his knowing smirk.

His gaze didn't leave hers as he sat down on the couch, his legs spread wide.

The black satin slip barely brushed the top of her thighs, and the lace cups of the bra gave him a teasing glimpse of her breasts.

He curled a finger toward her.

"Come here." The plush fabric on the couch was soft against Amanda's knees and legs as she straddled Clay's waist and reached for the hem of his sweater.

He lifted his arms, and his hair fluttered as the garment was pulled off easily.

Aware that his eyes followed each dance of her fingers as she quickly unbuttoned his shirt, Amanda couldn't keep from squirming on his lap.

Clay, feeling her heat and wetness through his pants, leaned forward to drag his tongue down her throat as she unbuckled his belt.

When she lifted herself to slide his pants and boxers off his hips, Clay was eye-level with her breasts, and he kissed each one.

She stilled, his pants having fallen to his ankles.

Hovering over him, Amanda's eyes slid shut and her grip on the back of the couch became white-knuckled as the hotness of Clay's mouth seemed to seep through the lace and shoot straight to her core.

Her lips were close to his ear as she pleaded, "Please, Clay." He used one finger to push the cup of her bra down.

Then his mouth closed around her nipple, and her fractured moan let him know he had been right in guessing what she wanted.

He used only the tips of his fingers to tease over the skin of her thighs.

She shuddered, and he swirled his tongue around the distended tip at the same moment that his touch found her warm wetness.

"Oh, Clay. Oh, I love you," she said in a choked voice.

Even after seventeen years, the knowledge that he could do this to her, that he could give her such pleasure, was like lighting a fuse inside him.

It ignited, and he groaned against her skin and hooked his fingers over her panties.

In one fluid motion, he pulled them down and then turned her onto her back.

Only pausing long enough to kick his pants aside before he was on his knees on the floor, Clay lifted her legs and kissed the freckle on her thigh.

Then her fingers were twisted in his hair, his name was a desperate plea on her lips, and he was lost in the sweetness of her. It seemed like fire was burning through every inch of Amanda's body, searing her from the inside out.

Clay's tongue was moving in a steady rhythm that urged her to the precipice of surrender time and time again before pulling her back.

He was trapping her in a web of longing, holding her captive with the lightest of touches.

When his mouth left her to place soft kisses on her thighs, Amanda whimpered loudly.

He skimmed his fingers over her, teasing, before his lips left her completely and he pinned his gaze on her face.

His voice was raw, roughed by his own suppressed need, as he said her name.

"Amanda." She bucked her hips, her body demanding release, but her eyes met his.

"What do you want, Clay?" she asked, her voice thick.

"I want you. I need you." A frustrated sob rose in her throat.

" Please ." "I want to see you." Before the words dripped from his lips, his fingers quickly and surely slid inside her, and he gave her the touch that he knew would be her undoing.

Just as he had wanted, Clay watched her back arch and her lips quiver as the long-delayed spasms rocked through her body.

A deep, sustained moan tickled his ears.

The sound was familiar and yet was as thrilling as the first time.

A part of him was still amazed at the magic that happened when he loved her with his body.

Knowing she would be close to a second orgasm within minutes, he held himself over her on the couch and dipped his tongue in the hollow at the base of her throat.

She always tasted incredible there.

Her kiss was hungry, frantic when she roughly pulled his lips to hers. Her mouth locked to his, Amanda's hands slid over his back and hips before closing around him.

She slid her hand in a downward spiral once, twice, and Clay lifted his head to groan against her cheek.

He wasn't going to last long, and Amanda knew he was waiting for her.

He was letting her touch him as he had touched her.

As much as she loved hearing his increasingly-ragged breaths and the mumbled, sometimes incoherent pleading that her touch elicited, she wanted him to find the same release he had given her.

She kissed the words against his lips.

"I need you inside me, Clay." He choked on a groan.

"I want you to come inside me," she whispered, and he gave in with a moan mixed with her name.

Bracing one hand on the arm of the couch behind her head, he pushed his hips forward and slid into the only place he ever wanted to be. The muscles in Clay's back clenched beneath Amanda's hands as he filled her, and she bent her knees to give him even a centimeter more.

He felt it, and gasped at the feel of sinking into her even more.

His lips were shiny where they were parted.

Sweat glistened on his brow.

His hair brushed over his forehead with each thrust of his hips.

She was grasping at him, her hands restless as they slid up and down his arms.

Amanda could feel the veins standing taut on his arms, every inch of his body straining and begging for more, just a little more, before he could dissolve into the oblivion of pleasure she was offering.

"Please, Sweetheart," he breathed between gasps.

He rolled his hips, and she moaned at the different sensation.

He was so close, but she knew he wouldn't let go until he felt her orgasm again.

His voice was begging and strong at the same time.

"Please come for me, Amanda." Pushing inside her faster, harder, he dipped his head and mimicked the rhythm in her mouth with his tongue.

"I want you to. I need you to.

Let me make you come, Amanda." His last words were said against her ear, and her body responded to his deep-voiced plea.

The instant he felt her stiffen, the moment he heard her voice lift, Clay pushed inside her with a long, sure stroke, and felt everything splinter into a million pieces.

Light, sound, sensation - everything rushed together and then shattered.

He was barely aware of the loud groan that was torn from his chest. The muscles in his arms betraying him, Clay collapsed on top of Amanda.

He knew he should move, but he could only drag in uneven breaths against her shoulder.

He could feel her light touch as her fingers moved up and down his back.

Her caress was slow, her body equally exhausted, and he felt the pull of sleep again, this time accompanied with sated contentment.

When his heart had stopped hammering at such a frenzied pace, and when the sweat that had covered his skin had cooled, Clay was about to suggest that they at least stumble into the bedroom where they could be more comfortable.

Before he could, Amanda spoke softly.

"Clay?" He kissed her shoulder.

"Hmm?" "I know what I want for my birthday." He smiled against her skin.

"Give me some time to recover, Darlin', and we'll see to that." "No.

Not that." He lifted his head, staring down into her eyes.

"What do you want?" Her eyes searched his for a moment.

"A baby."

Chapter 2 “You want a what ?” Clay pushed himself off Amanda and stood to look down at her.

His heart was racing, but this time it wasn’t from making love. Amanda sat up, running a hand through her hair.

She could have picked a better moment, but looking into his eyes as they made love, she knew she had to tell him what had been on her mind.

His eyes were wide, his hands were on his hips, and the flush of his patented Clay Aiken panic was already staining his cheekbones.

“Don’t do this, Clay.

Don’t freak out on me.” “Don’t freak out on you?

You just said you wanted a baby, Amanda!

A baby . I think that deserves at least a little freak-out.” He watched her reach for her robe, following her movements as she slipped it on and knotted it around her waist.

She lifted her eyes to his, and he repeated, “A baby .” Her expression pained at his tone, and he frowned.

“You’re serious?” Amanda felt the air vibrate with his nerves as surely as if they were her own.

She should have waited.

Deep down, she knew it wouldn’t have mattered when she told him, but after a week away from home and hours on a plane, a night’s sleep wouldn’t have hurt.

And she hadn’t really expected him to react so strongly.

She had expected surprise, but not for him to be so upset.

She nodded finally.

“I’ve been thinking about it.” “For how long?” She shrugged.

“A few months.” Had it been any other moment, Amanda would have laughed at his expression.

She hadn’t thought his eyes could widen any more.

He looked like a cartoon version of himself for an instant.

“A few months ?” Bending over, Clay picked up his boxers.

Pulling them on, he said, “And when were you planning on telling me?

After you got pregnant?

When you started showing?

When I noticed some other kid wandering around calling me Dad?” He stilled.

“You’re still on The Pill, right?” “Of course I am.” She touched his arm lightly.

“Will you please calm down?

Me saying I want a baby doesn’t mean I’m ready to flush my birth control pills and turn our sitting room into a nursery.

It means that yes, I’ve been thinking about it.

It’s something I’d like for us to talk about and think about – it’s not my way of telling you I’m pregnant.” A frown line creased Amanda’s brow.

“Although it’s nice to see where you’re at with this.” “What did you expect me to do?

Start thumbing through a book of names?” He put his hands on his hips again.

“I didn’t really expect to hear you say you want a baby.

There I was, thinking you were going to suggest we go upstairs and take advantage of the kids being away from home, and you just…spring this on me.

Pardon me if I’m a bit shocked.” Hearing the beginnings of an argument in his tone, Amanda shook her head and told herself to end the discussion for now.

“I think we should talk about this later.

You’re tired, and you’re right – I shouldn’t have sprung the news on you like that.” His face was still painted with shock and confusion, and she sighed, stepping closer and sliding her arms around his waist.

Clay’s arms automatically circled her, and he propped his chin on top of her head.

Her robe was soft against his bare skin, and her hair was even softer against his face.

The rush of emotion he had felt with her news began to dissolve.

He could calm down.

For her. He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as she kissed his chest.

“I’m sorry for blurting it out like that.” Amanda tilted her head back to find his eyes with hers.

“But I do want to talk about it – really talk about it.

Is that okay?” Clay sighed.

What must she think, him reacting that way to the suggestion of another child?

She probably thought he had lost his mind.

“Of course it’s okay.” He bent his head to touch his lips to hers lightly.

She leaned into him, her lips parting enough to give him a quick taste before she pulled away.

Clay watched her lashes flutter open and stared down at her, his eyes searching hers.

“You really want a baby?” he asked softly. “Yes.

Maybe.” Her fingers brushed over the back of his neck.

“I want us to talk about it.” She felt the muscles in his shoulders tense, and pulled his face down to kiss him again.

“But not now. Now I just want to sleep in my bed with my husband.” His eyes still closed, Clay felt Amanda touch her lips to his nose, his forehead, his eyelids.

“I missed you this week,” she whispered. Trying to push his worries aside, Clay curved an arm around her waist as they walked toward the bedroom.

“I didn’t sleep well all week.” He smiled.

“I considered buying a bottle of your perfume to spray on the other pillow on the bed.” She laughed softly, turning back the comforter on their bed as he walked to the other side.

She looked up to see him rubbing the back of his neck. “Is that tiredness or tension?” Clay dropped his hand with a small shrug.

“Probably a bit of both.” Amanda glanced at the clock and smiled before crossing the room and taking his hand to pull him toward the bathroom.

“What are you doing?” “We’ll take a shower to help you relax.” A corner of his mouth lifted.

“ I relax in the shower.

We don’t.” Amanda laughed.

“We can .” She reached for the knotted belt of her robe, and Clay covered her hand with his, stopping her. “I’d like to say that I can simply appreciate the thoughtfulness of the gesture and take a shower with you to help me sleep, but we both know that won’t happen.” He looked down at the front of his boxers.

“I may even have to stay in here by myself for a few minutes now that you’ve planted the idea in my head.” Laughing, she opened the door to the shower and turned on the water before facing him again.

“I kind of ruined the moment when we were in the living room.” She tugged the belt of her robe loose, and the garment puddle around her feet an instant later.

“Let me make it up to you.” Clay eased his boxers off and kicked them aside.

“You want to make it up to me?” Amanda skimmed her fingers over his hips and flirted over the hardening length of him with the lightest of touches.

“I do. Very much.” He quickly pulled her beneath the spray, grinning at the sound of her laugh, and pinned her in the corner of the shower.

Amanda smiled up at him, watching a droplet of water glisten on his lashes before it dripped onto his cheek.

She found the drop with her tongue, and Clay’s gaze was heated when she found his eyes with hers.

“You really want to make it up to me?” he asked again. His skin slick with water, Amanda’s hands smoothed over his hips and backside as she pulled him even closer.

“Yes.” Clay bent his head and traced the arch of her ear with his tongue.

His breath came in a warm burst that trembled through her.

“Then turn around, Darlin’.” Three Days Later “God, Shelby, shut up!” Adam yelled, walking into the kitchen with his younger sister behind him. Her face twisted in disgust, one hand holding a phone to her ear.

“Well, excuse me .

I have friends, and they actually want to talk to me .” Rolling her eyes, she spoke into the phone.

“He’s just in a bad mood because he can’t play in his game tomorrow.” She grinned, looking at her brother.

“Because he’s stupid !” It was that moment Clay walked through the door, having picked both of them up at their respective practices – Adam at basketball and Shelby at gymnastics.

He shut the door a little harder than normal.

“Please hang up the phone, Shelby,” he said firmly.

She started to protest, stopping when she saw the look on her dad's face. She sighed.

“I gotta go, Audrey.

I’ll call you later.” She flipped her phone shut and started to put it in outside pocket of her duffel bag. Clay held out his hand.

“You’re not calling her later.

Give me the phone, please.” “Dad!

That’s not fair!” He shook his head.

“We don’t call people ‘stupid,’ Shelby – you know that.

And I hope, when you think about how you would feel if Adam called you a name, you will apologize to your brother.” Adam spoke up, even the tips of his ears burning red as the pale skin beneath his freckles flushed with embarrassment.

“Don’t make her apologize.

She won’t mean it.” He glared at her.

“And she might just die if you take her phone away.” Shelby put a hand on her hip, her reddish blonde ponytail swinging, and Clay wondered for the millionth time if Amanda and he had simply forgotten when the child was born.

She had to be older than ten.

“At least people call me .

I have friends,” she said again. Adam’s fists balled at his sides.

“Shut up, Shelby,” he said stiffly. “You can’t tell me what to do!” she shot back. Amanda walked into the kitchen, having heard voices from her office.

A quick glance at Clay let her know that the bickering that had begun between Shelby and Adam that morning had not improved.

Seeing that Adam was seconds away from losing his cool – his jaw clenched tightly in a warning she knew well from Clay’s own temper – she laid a hand on his shoulder.

He jerked, turning his head to look at her, but she was addressing her daughter.

“What’s going on, Shelby?” Turning to face her mother, the young girl pleaded her case.

“I was fine. Totally fine.

Dad picked me up at gymnastics – which Jackie didn’t come to today, by the way.

Jennifer said it was because she and Miranda are mad at each other because Jackie called Paul, Miranda’s boyfriend, over the weekend and then —” “Later, Shelby.

What’s going on between Adam and you?” Amanda asked, interrupting before the conversation turned into the complete ins and outs of the fifth grade social scene. She rolled her eyes toward her brother.

“He can’t play in the game tomorrow, so he’s taking it out on everyone else.” Her light blue eyes widened in a victimized expression.

“Especially me . It’s not my fault he failed his biology test.” “Shelby, just shut up !” Adam said angrily, averting his gaze from Amanda’s when she looked at him. Amanda had noticed that Adam didn’t seem as happy at school that year, but she had assumed it was the natural transition from middle school to high school.

His grades had always been good, so she wondered if it was more than difficult material he didn’t understand.

Was he unhappier than they realized?

Squeezing Adam’s shoulder, she said, “Shelby, why don’t you go upstairs and start your homework right now?

Your dad and I will be up there in a few minutes.” “But I don’t want—” “Your mom said to go upstairs, Shelby,” Clay said from behind her.

She sighed dramatically and started to stomp off when he spoke again.

“ Shelby .” She stopped, standing with her back to them for a moment.

When she turned around, she walked over to Clay and handed him her phone.

He held her gaze for a silent moment, and she glanced at her brother.

“I’m sorry, Adam,” she said finally.

“Really.” When she left the room, Adam sighed. “Can we talk about it later, Mom?

Please? I had to run laps in practice, and I want to take a shower.

And I have algebra homework.” Amanda glanced at Clay, and he nodded imperceptibly.

She returned her gaze to her son.

“Okay. But we are talking about this.

Tonight.” He nodded, his head down as he pulled away from her and disappeared out of the room. Amanda turned to Clay, and they shared a silent glance.

She knew the expression in his eyes.

She’d seen it several times in the last three days.

It spoke volumes.

It said you really want to do this again? Amanda splashed her face with water while she was bent over the sink in their bathroom.

As she grabbed a towel and Clay spoke from his spot on the bed in the other room, she sighed into the soft terrycloth. “You know how old I would be when this kid graduated from high school?

Sixty. Sixty-years-old.

I wouldn’t be able to help move him or her into the dorm for college because I’d throw my back out trying to lift the mini-fridge.” She walked back into the bedroom, switching off the light in the bathroom on her way.

“There’s a decent chance that would happen now , Clay.” She unknotted her robe and tossed it on a nearby chair before getting into bed beside him.

Settled against the headboard, she turned her head to look at him.

“I thought we agreed not to argue before bed?” “This isn’t an argument.” A corner of her mouth lifted.

“It’s a good imitation of one, then.” Clay sighed, staring back at her.

Since he had walked into the house that evening with Adam and Shelby bickering, Amanda and he had repeated much of their conversation from the weekend.

Looking down at her hand on top of the comforter, he covered it with his.

“It scares me, Amanda.” She watched his fingers worry over hers for a moment.

“It scares me, too.

I was scared when we had Adam, when we had Shelby.

It would be scary no matter how old we were.” He nodded.

“I know that. But it would be even scarier this time.” He lifted his eyes to hers.

“I thought I was going to lose my wife and my child a long time ago.

I don’t want to ever feel that way again.

Not if I can help it.” It had been years, but she still felt a sharp ache in her chest when his eyes clouded with the pain of old memories.

Amanda scooted closer to him, leaning over to kiss his jaw.

He turned his head to touch his lips to hers.

How many times had he kissed her since they met?

A million or more.

And he still felt himself sink into every single one like it was the first time.

When he lifted his head, her fingers brushed over his face lightly.

“But what if everything was fine?

I would have to be extra careful, of course, but women do it every day, Clay.” “Amanda, I just don’t—” He stopped.

As soon as she had heard the protest in his tone, he had seen it in her eyes.

As much as he loved the way she never hid her emotions from him, it meant that he always knew when he had hurt her.

For the first time in their marriage – in their relationship – she was asking for something, something only he could give her, and he couldn’t simply say yes and enjoy seeing how happy it made her.

He looked away from her for a moment.

Amanda had never asked him for much – nothing except himself.

Feeling her gaze on his face as it was in profile, he fought a familiar rush of frustration.

How could he tell her no?

How could he tell her that he didn’t want something for them, that he wanted something for himself instead?

But he couldn’t tell her yes.

He just couldn’t. Swallowing, Clay turned away from her to switch off the lamp beside the bed.

“We agreed not to argue before bed,” he said finally. Amanda watched Clay roll to his side, his back to her.

Something else was bothering him – something he wasn’t telling her.

She didn’t know if it was the reason he didn’t want to try to have another baby, but she knew it was keeping him from being honest with her.

She also knew she couldn’t force him to tell her until he was ready. She listened to his breathing deepen as he fell asleep before turning away from him and sighing softly.

Maybe she was crazy to think of having another baby at this stage in their lives.

Was this what some people called a mid-life crisis?

Was she just afraid that as Adam and Shelby grew up they wouldn’t need her anymore?

In the darkness, she could barely make out the picture on her nightstand.

But her mind saw it clearly.

Shelby in pre-school, Adam in elementary school.

They had gone skiing, and Clay and Adam had already been ensconced in a deep chair in the lodge when Amanda brought Shelby back from her lesson that morning.

All three of them were still wearing their hats and coats from being outside, and they were all smiling broadly.

The picture had been on her nightstand for years – one of her favorites.

Thinking of it, thinking of the moment it was taken, she knew it wasn’t a mid-life crisis.

It wasn’t fear. She just wanted their family to grow.

She wanted to love another child.

She wanted Clay to, also.

And Adam and Shelby.

All of them. But Clay didn’t.

She didn’t know why.

And the thought that this could come between them scared her. While Amanda was still lost in the thoughts keeping her awake, Clay rolled over.

She felt his arm slip over her waist, and he pulled her closer to erase the small distance between them.

When his lips pressed against the back of her neck and he whispered, “I love you,” in a sleepy voice, she smiled and covered his hand with hers. “Goodnight, Clay.”

*** Author's note: This chapter was written in November 2005 *** Chapter 3 Four Days Later Nick clapped loudly and then used two fingers to whistle, catching the attention of his godson.

Adam grinned and then refocused his eyes on the court as he in-bounded the ball.

Smiling, Nick glanced at Clay who was sitting beside him on the bleachers.

“Are you sure he’s your kid?

He’s way too good at basketball.” Adam’s one-game suspension because of his failed test lifted, it was his team’s last game before Christmas. Clay followed his son with his eyes as he answered his friend.

“Despite his lack of athletic DNA, he managed to persevere.” His smile was amused.

“Of course, it could have something to do with the fact that you were teaching him how to shoot a lay-up when he was three.” Nick laughed and nodded toward Amanda where she was standing on the floor of the gym a few feet away talking to another parent.

“I had help.” Clay’s eyes shifted to his wife, smiling at the familiar way she gestured when she talked.

“I know. I think she lured him to the couch to watch games by offering him a bowl of sugar or something.” She evidently felt his gaze on her and looked in his direction.

She smiled quickly, and Clay marveled at the fact that she could still cause a flutter in his chest when they shared a glance across a room.

A whistle from the court caught Clay’s attention, and he looked back in time to see his son attempt to shove another player – a player on his own team – before one of the others stepped between them.

Clay automatically stood, watching Adam stomp back to the bench after the foul was called, and he frowned as Nick spoke from beside him. “It’s fine, Clay.

A kid from the other team stole the ball, and he just got too emotional.” Adam sat down so hard that his chair was shoved backward, and Clay shook his head.

“It wasn’t that.” “What do you mean?” “I don’t know, but it wasn’t the kid on the other team.” He glanced at Nick.

“I’ll be right back.” He descended the bleachers and walked to where Amanda was standing.

She, too, had turned at the whistle and was now watching Adam.

Clay smiled at the other parent politely before touching Amanda’s elbow lightly.

She automatically stepped aside and moved closer to him. “What happened out there?” she asked. He shook his head.

“I’m not sure. I wasn’t paying attention.

Nick said he was just upset because another player stole the ball, but he was trying to push Kyle.” Amanda knew Adam was avoiding looking in their direction, his head down as leaned forward in his chair.

He was holding tightly to the ends of the towel that was around his neck.

She met Clay’s eyes again.

“I have to leave in a few minutes to pick up Shelby, and I’m sure she’ll want to grab something to eat.

I don’t know when we’ll be home.” She tilted her head toward Adam.

“You want to handle it?” Clay nodded.

“I’ll talk to him.” His gaze passed over her features.

Since the night he had cut their conversation short in the bedroom, she had attempted to broach the subject of having another baby a few times.

With Christmas only a week away, they had both been so busy that he had been able to cut those conversations short, as well.

He knew it was only a matter of time before Amanda would expect a real discussion, but he was putting it off as long as possible.

Looking at her now, he saw the silent question in her eyes.

She wasn’t going to let him off the hook much longer.

He bent his head enough to press a kiss to her forehead.

“I’ll see you when you get home.” Amanda watched him walk back to the bleachers, looking up when she caught herself staring at the way his jeans hugged his hips.

She bit the corner of her bottom lip, smiling.

Was it really any surprise that she wanted to have more children with the man?

The playful thought was checked by a twinge of worry.

He was still avoiding the conversation each time she attempted to talk about it.

If he just didn’t want another child, she wished he would tell her.

The parent she had been talking to shifted her toddler to the other hip, and the child giggled happily at something her mother whispered.

Amanda sighed. She wished he would tell her.

And soon. Clay glanced at Adam’s profile in the relative darkness of the car as he drove home.

He was staring out the window, his fingers tapping out an unknown rhythm on his knee.

Clay cleared his throat.

“You hit all your free throws tonight – looks like that extra practice paid off.” Adam didn’t turn his head.

“Yeah.” “I heard Coach Baker say you might get to start in the near future.

That’s pretty exciting.” The opportunity to start was one all the young players craved.

Adam had talked of little else since practice started that fall. “Yeah.” So it’s going to be like that , Clay silently thought.

While it was true that Shelby normally talked enough for both of them, Adam was rarely as short with his answers – unless something was bothering him.

As Clay pulled into the garage, Adam unhooked his seatbelt.

He was out of the car before it rolled to a stop.

Clay had to hurry to catch up with him, Adam’s gym bag already tossed on top of the washer as the teenager stood in front of the open refrigerator where Clay joined him. “You can run, but you can’t hide,” Clay attempted to joke.

When Adam didn’t respond, he sobered and said, “I think we need to talk about what happened out there tonight with Kyle.” Adam shot his dad a sideways glance, and Clay realized not for the first time that his son was nearly as tall as he was.

“I’m hungry.” Clay put his hand on Adam’s shoulder.

“Have a seat at the island.

I’ll get you something.” Father and son stared at one another for a moment, Clay aware that Adam was testing him.

The younger man finally gave in, looking away.

Clay heard the wooden legs of the bar stool scrape over the tile as he looked for something that would be fast. Adam cleared his throat from behind Clay.

“We could order a pizza.” Clay shut the refrigerator, smiling at his son with a laugh.

“Every now and then you might try eating something else for a change.” He picked up the phone.

“But not tonight.” He smiled.

“Mom will make me eat good stuff for a few days.” As Clay dialed, he said, “If she asks, you twisted my arm.” Adam relaxed slightly.

“Think she’ll believe that?” “Not a chance.” Adam laughed, and they shared a smile.

Of all the blessings in his life, moments like that meant the most to Clay.

Something was bothering Adam, and he wasn’t looking forward to finding out what it was, but the fact that he knew he could talk to his son far outweighed any awkwardness.

When he hung up a few minutes later, he tilted his head toward the great room.

“They said it would be forty-five minutes.

How about that talk?” The teenager immediately stiffened.

“I really don’t want to talk about it, Dad.” Clay was silent as he walked to the other side of the island and swung his leg over a stool.

Facing Adam, he said, “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” His son started to push away from the counter, and Clay added, “But neither your mom nor I are going to stop asking.” Adam sighed, but he stayed on the stool.

Clay leaned forward, bracing his arms on the smooth marble surface.

“Your bio test this week, the gam—” “I forgot I had a test,” Adam interrupted, shifting on top of the stool.

“I didn’t study.” That was the same thing he had told them the night Shelby and he had been bickering.

Neither Clay nor Amanda had really believed that Adam had just forgotten – it wasn’t like him – but they hadn’t pushed the issue.

“My next test will be better,” he said, his eyes silently asking Clay to believe him. “I know you’ll do your best, Adam.

This isn’t about one test.” He held his son’s gaze across the width of the counter.

“Is there something else bothering you?

Something at school?” Adam looked down.

“No.” Clay studied the top of his head.

Adam had picked up his habit of running his hand through his hair.

Several strawberry blonde tufts stuck up where his hair had been dampened by sweat during the game.

“You seemed pretty mad at Kyle tonight.

Are you having a problem with him?” The younger man picked at the edge of a dishtowel that was lying on the counter.

“No.” Clay was silent for a moment.

Until then, Adam hadn’t expressed much interest in any particular girl, but Amanda had often wondered if that was part of what was bothering him.

“Is it a girl?” One of the downfalls of looking just like his father was the fact that Adam’s pale face flushed pink the moment he was embarrassed.

Clay noticed. “Is there a girl you’re interested in?” Clay made a mental note to tell Amanda that she was never allowed to skip out on one of these talks again.

He had to remind himself that his son was fourteen, not four.

Girls didn’t have cooties anymore. Adam shook his head.

“That’s not it.” Clay looked past his son and into their breakfast room for a moment.

Amanda had colored glass bottles displayed in a cabinet that caught the morning sun when it shone through the window.

He might as well have been talking to the cabinet.

When his gaze rested on Adam again, he inwardly sighed.

If Adam wouldn’t talk to him, what was he supposed to do?

While he was still trying to think, wondering what Amanda would do, Adam spoke without looking up. “Did you date a lot before you met Mom?” Clay was surprised at the question, but tried not to let it show.

“No. Not seriously.” “Why?” “When I was your age, not many girls were interested in me.

I wasn’t the cool, handsome guy I am now,” he joked, hoping Adam would at least look at him.

The younger man didn’t, and he continued.

“I dated a few girls in high school and college, but it was never anything serious.

I never met a girl that I thought I could really fall for.

And then I was on the show, and dating wasn’t as easy anymore.” He smiled.

“Then I met your mom, and I fell in love with her.” “Was Mom interested in you as soon as she met you?” Clay had expected these questions from Shelby but not Adam.

“You’ll have to ask her that, but I think so, yes.

Because of the show, she knew who I was before I ever met her.” “You never wanted to date anyone… else ?” he asked, tugging on a loose string of the dishtowel. Clay’s brow furrowed.

“After I met your mom?” “I guess.” Clay reached across the island and took the dishtowel, making his son look up.

“What are you trying to ask, Adam?” His mouth opened as if he were going to speak, and then his face flushed again before he pushed away from the island.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Adam walked out of the room quickly, Clay a few steps behind. “Adam, wait.” The younger man stopped in the middle of the great room, his back to Clay.

“If you can’t talk to me, will you talk to your mom?

We love you, and if something is bothering you, we want you to be able to come to us.

But if you’d be more comfortable talking to her, I’ll drop this.” He paused.

“Will you talk to her?” Adam shook his head.

“I can’t.” “Why?” Silence stretched long between them until Clay asked, “Adam?” “I can’t ask Mom.

It’s not about her.” He paused.

"It's about... you ." His voice was small, and Clay felt a sharp ache in his chest.

Seeing his son so upset by something felt like someone was twisting his heart in their hand.

“If I tell you, will you not tell Mom?” he asked with his back still turned. Clay was silent for a moment.

“I can’t promise that, Adam.

Why do you not want her to know?” Adam sighed and sat down hard on the couch.

He didn’t answer until Clay sat beside him, and even then, he still didn’t look at his father.

“It would be embarrassing.” He sighed heavily.

“Not that talking to you isn’t.” Clay studied his son.

Where had the years gone?

He was becoming a man before their eyes every day.

Amanda said he looked more and more like Clay, but Clay could see her in the young man’s features.

It had always amazed him, the way both of his children were such perfect mixtures of Amanda and himself.

While Adam shared his mother’s introspective nature – Clay had no doubt that whatever was bothering him had been on the teenager’s mind for some time – he had Clay’s stubborn refusal to open up when someone was trying to pry.

Using the tactic Amanda used with him, Clay sat quietly and waited for Adam to continue. “You’re doing the same thing Mom does,” Adam said a moment later, a hint of irritation in his voice. Clay chuckled.

“She does it because it works, you know.” “I know.” He shoved his hands into the pocket of his sweatshirt.

“When you were famous…” Clay smiled at the introduction.

Adam had little memory of Clay’s life before they moved back to Raleigh.

In some ways, Clay both loved that and hated it.

“Were there . . .

Did people say stuff about you that wasn't true?” “Do you mean rumors and things like that?” “Yeah.” Clay had a feeling he knew where the conversation was going, but he would let Adam get there.

“Yes. Those magazines you see in the grocery store were the same then as they are now.

It’s part of that life.” He paused.

“It’s part of any life;

Some people just get to read about it in the paper instead of hearing it school or work.

And it’s worse for people in the public eye.

More people care.” Adam leaded his head against the back of the couch, turning his head to look at Clay.

“Why?” Clay laughed softly.

“That’s a good question without a good answer.

Why do you think it’s like that?” He shrugged.

“I mean, I know they like to talk about gossip and movie stars and all that stuff to make money off of it.

But why would there have been rumors about you?” “Because I lived in that world, Adam.

It comes with the territory.

No one is exempt from it.” “What were the rumors like?” Clay cleared his throat.

“There were a lot of them.

Some of the worst started after your mom and I got married.

They would say I was cheating on her or she was cheating on me or we were getting divorced – stuff like that.” His gaze was seeking.

“How did you deal with it?

Didn’t you want to find the people and tell them they were wrong or hit them or something?” Clay smiled.

“Yes. A lot of the time, I would have loved to do that.

But in some ways, that’s what they want.

If you’re spending all your time worrying about rumors instead of the truth – especially in a marriage – it will suffer.

So we tried to ignore it.

We knew what was true, and our families knew what was true.” He shrugged.

“We didn’t care what anyone else thought.” Adam nodded and looked down.

He was worrying over a question, Clay knew.

The younger man cleared his throat.

“Did, um, anyone ever say that you were, you know,” he coughed, “gay?” Clay mentally throttled whomever had made Adam worry about that.

It was enough that it had been a part of his life – it shouldn’t have been an issue with his children.

He swallowed his anger, focusing on his son.

“Yes.” Adam looked up, his expression worried.

“A lot?” Clay nodded.

“A lot.” “Even after you and Mom got married?” “Yes.

Maybe even more then – saying our marriage was a cover-up.” Adam looked down again for a moment.

“Didn’t you tell people that you weren’t?” “Yes.

They chose not to believe me, I suppose.” “Why didn’t they just take you at your word?” Clay hated that he didn’t have answers for Adam’s questions.

“I don’t know, Adam.

Because they didn’t want to, I imagine.” “Didn’t it make you feel bad?” he asked softly. “It was frustrating, yes.

But I realized early on that I couldn’t let them get to me.

Just like with the rumors about your mom and I – I knew what was true.

The people who mattered knew the truth.

And no matter what I said, some people were going to continue to believe it.

So I had to stop letting it bother me.” “Did it bother Mom?” Clay smiled.

“She was usually the one who wanted to go hit someone.” Adam laughed.

“Really? Mom?” “Your mom didn’t like it when people talked about me – especially circumstances like that when I had answered their questions and they chose not to believe me.” He paused.

“It’s much easier to hear lies about yourself than it is to hear them about someone you love.

The only times I really wanted to hit someone were when they talked about your mom.” He smiled.

“But she made me restrain myself.” The younger man smiled before turning his head to look out the French doors on either side of the fireplace on the other side of the room.

Clay let him think in silence for a moment before asking, “Has someone at school been saying that I’m gay?” Adam’s face flushed again as he nodded.

“A few guys on the basketball team.

Kyle is the worst.

I don’t think the others would say anything if he didn’t.” “And that’s why you wanted to hit him tonight?” He nodded again.

“When that other guy stole the ball, Kyle said, ‘I bet your.

. ..” He paused and looked up at Clay, his eyes questioning. Clay realized what he was asking.

“Go ahead.” Adam looked down again, shifting on the couch.

“He said, ‘I bet your…faggot father taught you how to play ball.’” His face was red as he looked back at Clay.

“I’m sorry.” Clay put his hand on Adam’s shoulder, squeezing gently.

“It’s okay. I know you don’t use words like that.” He nodded, swallowing.

“And when he said it, I just…I just wanted to hit him.

Hard .” Clay could hear the anger creeping into his son’s voice as he relived the moment.

“I mean, even if you were, he shouldn’t be calling people names like that.

Honestly, I think he just doesn’t understand, and so he’s afraid of the idea of someone being gay.” Clay smiled as he felt a swell of pride.

If nothing else, Amanda and he had done this part right.

Adam glanced at him.

“Do you think that’s what it is?” “Yes.

People are afraid of things they don’t understand.

And instead of admitting they don’t understand, they try to make themselves feel better by putting someone else down.” He patted the younger man’s shoulder.

“I’m glad you realize that.

A lot of people my age don’t realize it.” Adam smiled slightly.

“Seems so obvious to me.” Clay smiled.

“Good.” He paused.

“And the biology test?” He shrugged sheepishly.

“I was mad, so I didn’t study.

Kyle is in that class, and he mouths all the time.” He quickly averted his eyes, suddenly fascinated by the stitching on the hem of his sweatshirt.

“And there’s, um, this girl in my class.” Clay watched the flush climb Adam’s neck until the tips of his ears burned red.

“Kelly.” “And you like her?” Adam nodded, not answering.

“And you’re worried about her hearing Kyle and thinking he’s right?” Adam looked up.

“No, I’m afraid she thinks I’m friends with him!

He’s a jerk!” Clay couldn’t help it;

He laughed loudly.

Adam relaxed, laughing, also.

When Clay’s shoulders stopped shaking, he said, “So Kyle’s ignorance is interfering with your love life?” The younger man chuckled.

“Yeah. He’s cramping my style, Dad.” Clay shook his head, still laughing.

“Then I would suggest letting Kelly know that Kyle is not one of your friends.” “And Kyle?

Will he ever stop, you think?” Clay sighed.

“Will he stop thinking that way?

Probably not until he either matures enough to see that he’s wrong or until someone else makes him see that.” “Should I say something to him?

About you, I mean.

Tell him that I know you’re not and that’s all that matters?” “If you want to say something to him, I’m not going to tell you not to.

You do what you think is best.

But don’t be surprised if he doesn’t take you at your word, either.” Adam nodded.

“But you can’t keep rising to his bait, Adam.

Even if it bothers you, you can’t let him know that he’s getting to you.

That’s what he wants.” He nodded again.

“I know.” He looked at his lap again, and Clay tried to memorize that moment.

He didn’t know if he had ever been prouder of his son.

When Adam lifted his eyes to Clay’s, he said, “Are you going to tell Mom we talked about this?” “Yes.

Are you okay with that?” He stared at Clay for a moment.

“Yeah.” He smiled.

“Man, if I had talked to her about it, maybe she would have helped me beat up Kyle.” Laughing, Clay stood as Adam did the same.

“If only you knew how true that was.” He saw Adam hesitate, but it was only for a second before the younger man stepped closer to hug his father.

Whether he was fourteen or four, the gesture tugged at Clay’s heart just as strongly.

Did I ever feel that comfortable with my dad , Clay silently asked himself.

The teenager was smiling as he pulled back. “I’m gonna take a quick shower before the pizza gets here, okay?” Clay nodded, watching his son’s long-limbed stride out of the room.

He heard his footsteps on the stairs seconds later as he was still attempting to swallow over the lump in his throat.

As he stood there, he heard the door from the garage open and heard Shelby’s voice as she was talking a mile a minute. “And I know I can do the beam.

I’ve been doing it for weeks , and I’m totally better at it than Megan.” Clay heard her toss her own gym bag into the laundry room, and heard Amanda as she spoke. “Megan is good at the beam, too, Shelby.

You did the beam the last time, and this time Megan is doing it.

You’ll get your chance to do it again.

And if you work hard, you’ll be just as good with the vault as you are with the beam.” “I know, Mom, but I so wanted to compete on the beam again.” As she walked past the great room toward the stairs, she was still talking, even if it was mainly to herself.

“But I’ll practice.

I’ll practice my butt off.

And then I’ll show Ms.

Pfeiffer that I’m good at the vault, too.

Yes. I’ll totally be good at the vault.” Amanda was shaking her head as she spotted Clay standing in front of the couch.

She smiled. “God help that child when she finds something that she’s not good at.” He smiled, the conversation with Adam still making his chest ache with a sweetness he had never known until he had children.

“Something wrong?” Amanda asked, noticing his expression.

When she stopped in front of him, she automatically leaned up on her toes to kiss him lightly. Clay wrapped his arms around her, kissing her temple and burying his face in her hair.

He inhaled deeply.

“I love you so much.” Before she could say anything, he pulled back enough to cup her face in his hands and kiss her tenderly.

He felt Amanda’s sigh against his mouth, and lovingly suckled her lips until she made the mewing sound in her throat that he never tired of hearing.

Lifting his head, he rubbed his thumb over her cheek as her lashes fluttered open.

There was a question in her eyes – he certainly didn’t always greet her this way – but there was also so much love that Clay felt it to his toes.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “For what, Clay?” she asked softly. “Everything.”

Chapter 4 Expecting her to be in bed, Clay didn’t immediately see Amanda when he walked into their bedroom later that night.

She was in the corner of their sitting room, her feet propped on an ottoman in front of a deep chair.

She had something in her lap, and he noticed it was a photo album when he walked toward her.

She had three more stacked beside the chair. “I thought you’d be in bed,” he said as he sat on the arm of the chair and bent over to kiss the top of her head. Amanda ran her hand over his thigh in a casual caress.

“I was headed that way when I pulled these out.” She turned a page and asked, “Get your work done?” He nodded.

“I think so. Matt has some really good ideas for the summer camps next year.

I was happy to see how much he and his team had come up with.” He pointed to a picture on that page with a smile.

“Who’s that hot guy standing beside you?” It looked like the picture had been taken at the end of a show, Clay’s hair damp from performing.

Amanda was pressed against his side, both of them hamming for the camera. “If you think he’s hot, you should see my boyfriend,” she said dryly. His fingers tickled the back of her neck, making her laugh.

“My God, were we ever that young?” He leaned forward to inspect the picture.

“Is that from the first summer you traveled with me?” “I think so.” She pulled the picture out of the album, holding it in front of her.

“We were rather hot, weren’t we?” She laughed.

“But you don’t even have to be hot to be hot when you’re twenty-two.” Clay grinned and took the picture from her.

“Well, you were.” His fingers found the sensitive skin on the back of her neck again.

“You are .” Taking the picture from him, Amanda slipped it back into the album.

“Are you trying to get me into bed, Mr.

Aiken?” she asked, not looking up. “Of course.

What do you think my chances are?” Everything tingled when his fingers found the side of her neck and lightly stroked.

“I’d say they’re pretty good,” she murmured.

She flipped another page, and Clay tensed beside her.

It was a picture from Adam’s first birthday, and Clay was noticeably absent as Amanda laughingly watched the little boy stick his hand in the middle of his cake.

Neither of them commented as she turned the page.

Clay swallowed, but he managed a smile as he nodded toward another picture. “Look how cute you were.” “A minute ago, I was hot.

Now I’m cute,” she said with a laugh.

“And I look huge, not cute.” The picture had been taken only a few weeks before Shelby was born, Amanda lying on the couch while Adam had his ear pressed to her stomach.

He was grinning. “Didn’t he think he heard Shelby laugh or something?” Amanda smiled, remembering.

“He was convinced that he did.” She turned another page, and Clay resumed his lazy caress of her skin. “Why’d you get these out?” She sighed.

“Trying to convince myself that Adam will really be fifteen next year and not five.” When Clay had told her about his conversation with Adam that evening, Amanda had been just as proud of their son.

She closed the album and tossed it onto the floor before leaning back in the chair to look up at Clay.

“We’re so lucky.” He nodded.

“They’re great kids.” “They are.” She smiled gently.

“But I don’t just mean the kids.” His kiss fell on her lips lightly.

When Amanda felt his fingers caress their way inside her robe, she curved her hand over the back of his neck and pulled him off the side of the chair.

They were pressed together in the small space, and Clay lifted his head to laugh softly.

“I thought we outgrew the awkward fumbling years ago.” Amanda deftly unbuttoned his shirt, smirking.

“There’s more room here than in the back seat of a car, Mr.

Aiken.” Clay dragged her on top of him.

He felt the ottoman scoot a few inches as he pushed her robe off, and his hands found the smooth skin on her hips when they slipped inside her pajamas.

“I never made love to you in the back seat of a car, Mrs.

Aiken.” Her teeth scraped a dry patch on his bottom lip, her tongue smoothing over it afterward, before she smiled and said, “You tried.” His hands on her hips, Clay nuzzled the sensitive skin beneath her ear.

“Let me make love to you.

On a bed. Our bed.” His limbs burning with exhaustion hours later, Clay used one finger to push Amanda’s hair aside.

Her skin was the damp hotness of the way he loved her as he pressed his lips to the back of her neck.

She said his name softly, and Clay smiled at the sound of her voice. Amanda wanted to roll over and see his face, but she didn’t want to move.

The moments just after they made love when she was in his arms had not lost their magic after seventeen years;

She still felt closer to him then than any other time.

When he spoke again, his voice was even gentle as he whispered in the darkness.

“I’ve been thinking.” Amanda felt his fingers tickle over her hip.

“About what?” “About us having another baby.” He kissed the back of her neck again, his lips warm against her cooling skin. “You’re ready to talk about it again?” “No.

I’m ready to do it.” She had been slowly moving toward sleep, but his words made her pull away to roll over and look at him, now fully awake.

Amanda knew she looked shocked.

“What?” Clay’s eyes loved over her face for a moment before he said softly, “I’m ready to try to have another baby.” “What happened?” “What do you mean?” “You’ve avoided the subject for days, and now you’re all the sudden comfortable with the idea.

Something changed your mind.” He shook his head.

“Nothing happened.

I just had to realize how much I love you and how much I love our family – how much love we still have to give.” She was silent for a moment, staring back at him.

“Be honest with me, Clay.

Don’t think about what I want or what I’ve said or what happened with Adam.

We’ve had a pretty emotional night.

I’ll understand if you’re just caught up in that.” She paused.

“Do you really want to try to have a baby?” “I can’t help but think of you and think of tonight, Amanda.

And yes, today went a long way to convince me.

It reminded me of what we have – what you and I have and what we have with the kids.

But this decision isn’t based on just today.” He was silent for a moment.

“It’s based on the seventeen years that came before today.” He brushed his fingers over her face lightly, lingering on her lips before lifting his gaze to hers.

“It still scares me.

A lot. But I want to do this.

For us. All of us.” Amanda looked for doubts in his eyes.

Something was nagging at the back of her mind, but she couldn’t put her finger on what it was.

Was she just shocked at his rapid change of attitude? “You’re sure?” Clay nodded slowly.

“I’m sure.” She hesitated for a moment before leaning forward to touch her mouth to his.

Clay hadn’t realized he was holding his breath until it escaped in a rush against her lips. A Month Later – January 2021 Amanda pulled the note off the refrigerator. Adam needed more stuff for his project.

Be back soon. Shelby is at Jennifer’s. xxxooo Me Smiling, she pocketed the note and answered the question her mom had just asked her, the phone cradled against her shoulder.

“The weekend was wonderful.

Absolutely wonderful.” Amanda had started teaching a new semester of classes that week, and before they both got busy with work again, Clay and she had decided to spend a few days at their house in the mountains while Adam and Shelby stayed with friends.

Once again, they had gone with the best intentions, Amanda even packing coats so they could walk around the small town that was nearby, but the coats hadn’t left the suitcase – and neither had most of the rest of their clothes.

Feeling her face flush as memories of the weekend warmed inside her, Amanda tried to talk to her mom in a normal voice.

“I didn’t realize how much we needed the time away until we got there.” In addition to giving them a chance to reconnect away from the kids, the weekend had certainly increased their chances of getting pregnant, she thought with a smile. Even after Clay had said he was ready to try, even after he had gone with her to the doctor to make sure it was safe for them to try again, Amanda had expected him to change his mind for days afterward.

When he hadn’t wavered, she had begun to nurture the idea of actually getting pregnant.

Every time they made love, she couldn’t help but wonder if they had just made a baby. “Everything going okay with Clay at work?” Her mom’s voice broke into her thoughts. “Yes.

They’re already planning ahead for all the summer programs, so he’s been pretty busy with that.

And he’s supposed to fly out to the coast next week to rerecord the duet he did last month.” “Are you going to be able to go with him this time?” “We’re talking about it.

He’ll be flying out on a Friday and flying home that Monday.

I only have one class on Monday, and I haven’t been out there with him in a while.” The call waiting beeped in her ear, and Amanda said, “Can you hang on just a second, Mom?” “Sure.” She switched over, half-expecting it to be Clay.

“Hello?” “Oh. Amanda?

I was hoping to catch Clay.” It took Amanda a moment to place who it was.

The voice finally clicked.

Mary Brennan, Clay’s former tour manager.

She laughed softly.

“Sorry, Mary. I didn’t recognize your voice at first.

Clay’s not home right now.

You want me to have him call you?” “Sure.

Just tell him that I’m sorry it took me so long to get back to him.

I was out of town for the holidays, and we’ve moved to a new office, so, of course, it was chaotic.

I didn’t even get the message from Chris until last week, so I didn’t know until then that Clay was thinking about going out on the road again.” She kept talking, but Amanda barely heard her.

“The phones are still a mess at the office, so tell him to call my cell phone.

Thanks, Amanda.” It had been nearly twelve years, but nothing had changed.

Mary always had a million things to do, and she hung up before Amanda could say anything.

It wasn’t until she heard the dial tone that she remembered her mom was on the other line. “Mom?

I’ll call you back, okay?” “Is something wrong?” She shook her head.

“No. I just have to take the other call.

Give dad my love.

Love you.” The phone beeped as she turned it off, and she stared at it in her hand.

He wanted to go out on tour again?

Why hadn’t he told her?

Maybe something was wrong.

Chapter 5 “Well, we now have a working telegraph in our great room,” Clay said with a smile as he walked into the bedroom later that night. Amanda looked up from the paper she was attempting to read.

Clay had been busy helping Adam with his project since he came home, and she hadn’t been able to ask him about what Mary had told her.

The few hours of waiting had not calmed her nerves.

For the first time in a long time, she was worried about having a conversation with him.

But for the first time in a long time, he had hidden something from her. Clay pulled off his t-shirt as he walked into the bathroom, and Amanda quickly stood and followed him.

He turned around to look at the t-shirt lying on the floor and then looked back at her.

“I’ll put it in the hamper in a second.

You don’t have to do it.” Amanda shook her head.

“That’s not why I followed you in here.” She wrapped her arms around herself, and Clay straightened where he was about to bend over and wash his face.

She only did that when something was bothering her. “What’s wrong?” “You tell me.” Her expression clouded.

“While I was on the phone with Mom tonight, Mary beeped in.

Mary Brennan.” Surprise and guilt flashed over Clay’s face.

“She said to tell you she didn’t get the message from Chris until this week, so she didn’t know you were thinking of going out on the road again.

You’re supposed to call her on her cell phone.” She paused.

“What’s going on, Clay?” “I .

. . nothing.” He sighed.

“Nothing is going on.

I said something to Chris when I was in L.A.

Last month, and I forgot to let him know that I had changed my mind.” “But you did say something to Chris?” He nodded slowly.

“Yes.” “But you didn’t say anything to me .” He ran a hand through the side of his hair, suddenly nervous.

“I was going to. After I got back from L.A.

But when I came home, I was tired and we made love, and then you—” “Then I said I wanted to have a baby,” she finished softly.

He nodded, watching a myriad of emotions in her eyes.

“And you thought if you went out on the road again, I wouldn’t want to get pregnant.” Clay sighed.

“Yes.” “So you told me yes without ever bringing this up.” He nodded again.

“Why?” He looked away, not answering, and she asked, “Do you want to tour again, Clay?” He shrugged.

“While I was in L.A., I saw some people from the old crew, and we were just talking.

I mentioned something to Chris, and I guess he talked to Mary.” Amanda reached out to touch his arm.

“Clay.” His eyes met hers again.

“Do you want to tour again?” He was silent for a long moment before he finally nodded.

“Maybe.” “Really?” “We talked about it when we first moved here, remember?

When the kids were older and we could leave them for a few months in the summer – we thought we might go out on the road again.

I wondered if they were old enough now.” He paused.

“Do you think they are?” Amanda felt a sharp ache in her chest.

He was trying to act nonchalant, but she saw the hope in his eyes when he asked the question.

“They probably are.” She swallowed over a lump in her throat.

“Why didn’t you talk to me about this, Clay?” He reached for both of her hands, rubbing his thumb over her wedding band as he spoke without looking at her.

“It was just an idea I had.

It wasn’t anything I was really planning on doing.

And this is better for us.” He nodded, and Amanda watched his hair brush against his forehead softly when his head moved.

He finally looked up at her.

“This is better for us.” He nodded again, and she wondered if he was trying to convince himself that he was right. “Just because I want to have a baby, Clay…that doesn’t mean we have to do it.” She squeezed his hands.

“You want this. We should talk about it.” Clay let go of her hands, stepping back and running a hand through the side of his hair again.

“Some…some pipe dream of mine…some fantasy shouldn’t come before what’s best for you and Adam and Shelby.” He stopped and met her gaze.

“You’re more important.

They’re more important.” Suddenly Amanda felt like she was lying in a hospital bed thirteen years earlier listening to him say he was going to walk away from his career and move back to Raleigh.

He was a different person, she was a different person, their lives were different – but the guilt in his eyes was the same.

Her next breath was a painful one.

Stepping forward, she put her hands on his hips, her touch light as she looked up at him.

“Clay, do you want to do this?

Do you want to go out on the road again?” “It doesn’t mat—” She put a finger to his lips.

“Do you want to go out on the road again?” Clay found her hand and held it as he kissed her finger.

“I do. But I don’t have to.” Amanda laughed softly.

“Will you please stop saying what you think I want to hear?” She sighed, smiling.

“You don’t know everything, Mr.

Aiken.” “You want a baby.” She nodded.

“Yes. I do. But I want you to be happy more than I want a baby.” She brushed her thumb beneath his lip lightly.

“Much, much more.” “But if I go back out on the road, we won’t be abl—” “Able to find as much privacy to make love?

No, no we won’t.” She leaned up to kiss him gently.

“But we’ll manage like always.” She winked.

“We’re not as flexible as we were fifteen years ago, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

We’ll stretch first.” He laughed, but his expression was serious.

“If I’m going to tour, we can’t be trying to get pregnant.

It’s just not a good idea.” Amanda linked her hands behind his back, looking up at him.

“We’ve waited ten years.

Ten more months won’t make much of a difference.” She smiled.

“Except you’ll be sixty- one and hobbling into the gym for high school graduation.” Clay wrapped his arms around her, smiling as he shook his head.

“Do you have any idea how much I love you?” She grinned.

“I do. And if you kiss me, I’ll tell you how much I love you .” He bent his head and touched his lips to hers in the lightest of kisses.

When he lifted his head, Amanda smiled.

“I love you so much that I’ll save the lecture for not telling me about this until afterwards.” Clay laughed.

“After what?” Her hand slid down his chest and tickled over the trail of soft hair that disappeared inside the waistband of his jeans.

When Clay sucked in a sharp breath, her fingers slipped into the small space between his skin and jeans, warm, damp places touching her mind as well as her fingers. Amanda looked up at her husband as his eyes fluttered closed, a groan mingling with the breath escaping his lips.

She watched his face, watched his eyelids quiver, his lips part, as her feathery touch found him.

He would be touring again.

He would stand on stage again, his heart pounding, his hair damp with sweat, his body fueled with energy.

Hands would reach up, begging for just one touch, just one glance, just one moment with him. Their clothes fell to the floor with barely a whisper, the only sounds their breathing and soft moans.

He would perform for thousands.

He would feed off their adoration, their screams.

But when the screaming stopped, when the lights went down and the frenzy subsided, he would come back seeking her.

Only her. He would still be charged, his body still racing.

His touch would burn white-hot like and he would push between her legs trying to cool his fever.

Amidst the car pools, the faculty meetings, the parent-teacher conferences, she had forgotten.

She had forgotten what being with this man was like.

She had forgotten how this man could love. Kissing him now, she could imagine it.

She could imagine the way her fingers would tangle in the damp curls behind his ears as he pleaded and moaned her name, his need for her greater than that of the twenty thousand screaming his name only an hour before. Amanda pulled Clay down to the floor with her, her desire making her too weak to stand.

Her teeth were punishing against his full bottom lip, her kiss of apology slow and suckling until he was writhing beneath her and seeking the dampness between her legs with his fingers, with his body, anything.

When she tore her mouth free to move down his body and he shoved his hands into her hair, pulling sharply as his hips thrust up to welcome her, Amanda was only vaguely aware of his roughness.

She was lost in the softness of his hair beneath her lips, in the way his body came alive for hers.

And when she pulled him into her mouth and his hips lifted off the carpet as he sought more, his body’s silent shudder only heightened her longing to please him, to love him. There would be thousands of women dreaming of him, fantasizing about him, but only one that he would seek to ease his own ache.

It would be in her arms that he slept.

It would be in her ear that he whispered his dreams, his fantasies.

It would be the two of them.

Only the two of them. “Please, Amanda.

I need…I…please…Oh, Dar…Oh, Darl—oh, God !” Clay’s voice lifted, quivered, and broke before Amanda raised her head.

He wanted more. He wanted her body, not her mouth.

She knew it in the way he clawed at her, pulling her toward him as he sat up and his slick skin sent tremors through her as they touched.

She knew it in the way he kissed her, their mouths open, their teeth sliding off each other as they met hungrily.

She knew it in the way his hands tightened on her hips, the small red circles turning white beneath each finger.

His face was drenched with pleasured surprise when he eased inside her. She pushed him onto his back again and fanned her hands over his chest.

His blunt nails scraped at her thighs, her hips.

She knew there would be marks there tomorrow.

The muscles in his legs strained beneath her each time he lifted his hips. “Please…oh, God…oh, Amanda…please, Honey…you feel…,” he groaned, “so .

. . so .” He gritted his teeth.

“. . . good . Please , Amanda.” His hair was damp, his face red, his eyes glazed as he watched her.

She was close, so very close.

Clay didn’t want her to merely find release;

He wanted her to crash into it.

He wanted to feel her stiffen, see her lips tremble, hear her completely lose control.

As her body moved with his, as she met each of his thrusts and her hips rolled on top of him, Clay knew exactly where to touch, what she needed.

As he felt her, felt them , the moan that escaped her lips was so instinctive that Clay felt the hair on his arm stand on end.

His grunt of approval was immediate and involuntary.

She gasped, her body tensed in anticipation, and then he felt her dissolve around that tiny pulse point.

The way she said his name twisted in his gut as pure, masculine satisfaction ran through his veins when he felt and watched her orgasm.

He could do this.

He could give this to her. Before her tremors subsided, Clay quickly and easily sat up and moved her onto her back.

Her hands held above her head, his fingers tangled with hers, her face only inches from his, he pushed against her with several hard, sharp thrusts.

The tingling that began in his fingers shot through his arms, through his chest, and coiled tightly.

The love and desire in her eyes as she wrapped her legs around him and urged him even deeper was Clay’s undoing.

Time seemed to stand still and race forward at the same time.

He couldn’t see or hear.

He couldn’t breathe.

He could only feel.

He could feel everything in him snap and shatter.

He could feel his muscles tighten and then collapse.

He could feel Amanda’s lips on his forehead, on his cheek, on his mouth, as she whispered against him.

He could feel her heart beating against his chest.

He could feel her breathe. Her lips were warm when he kissed her.

“I love you.” Amanda shivered.

Clay tilted his chin down to look at her where she was against his side and half on top of him.

“Is this why we don’t make love on the floor as much anymore?” She laughed softly.

“Is what why we don’t make love on the floor as much anymore?” “The fact that we have to get up and get in the bed afterward when we’re both exhausted.” She smiled and kissed his chest.

“That’s probably why.” Clay ran the tips of his fingers down her spine and felt her shiver again.

“After that first time, I was afraid it would never happen that way again,” he said after a moment. Amanda looked up at him.

“What?” He grinned.

“Ireland.” Laughing, she sat up and traced the curve of his hip with her finger.

“Is that your way of saying that tonight was like the first time we went to Ireland?” “Tonight was better .” He waggled his eyebrows.

“You’re getting wilder with age.” Smiling, she reached for her shirt and pulled it on before standing.

Clay tickled her ankle as she stood beside his hip, making her jump.

He rolled to his side, propping himself up on his elbow as he watched her look for her underwear.

He spotted the panties under the bed, but kept that information to himself.

“Seriously. Something was different tonight.” He sighed as she, too, saw her underwear, but smiled and congratulated himself for picking such a good spot on the floor when she bent over to pick them up.

As she walked toward the bathroom, he asked, “What was different tonight?” Amanda turned around with a smile.

“I had something on my mind.” Clay raised his eyebrows.

“I sincerely hope it was me.” She laughed and looked at him through lowered lids.

“It was. I was thinking about you touring again.” She winked and disappeared into the bathroom.

She was already smiling when Clay filled the doorway, a smirk on his face. “The thought of me touring again, huh?” She grinned.

“It’s been a while since I slept with a rock star.” He looked at his watch.

“Yeah, about twenty minutes.” Amanda laughed, loving the happy expression on his face.

“You’re not a rock star again yet, Clay.” He winked.

“I made you scream.” He walked toward her, trailing his finger along the neckline of her shirt with a sly smile.

“A lot , if memory serves.” She smiled.

“If that’s all it takes, I think we’re both rock stars.” A while later, Amanda’s back warm against Clay’s chest as they lay in bed, he whispered, “Are you asleep?” She chuckled.

“If I was, I’m not now.

What?” “I want you to promise me something.” Unable to read his tone, Amanda said, “ Okay .

What?” She felt the smooth edge of his teeth as he smiled against her neck. “When we go to graduation, don’t let me forget my cane.”

Chapter 6 Two Months Later – March 2021 Clay looked up when someone knocked on the door of his office.

“Come in.” Matt, one of his colleagues, was smiling as he opened the door.

“You have a visitor.” He winked.

“And a rather pretty one, I must say.” Amanda laughed as she pushed the door the rest of the way open and stepped past the younger man.

Clay automatically smiled at her as he pushed a stack of papers away from him and leaned back in his chair.

He shifted his gaze to Matt.

“Flirting with my wife right in front of me?” he asked.

“That’s pretty brave.” Matt grinned.

“One of these days, she’s going to realize she’s too good for you.” Clay looked up at Amanda as she stopped beside his chair.

He smiled as he slid an arm around her.

“God, I hope not.

I’ve managed to keep her from realizing that for so long now.

It would be embarrassing for her to figure it all out this late in the game.” Matt laughed and reached for the doorknob.

“I’ll fax those invoices before I leave, Clay.

Have a good weekend.” He winked again.

“Call me, Amanda.” After the door shut, Amanda bent down to kiss Clay quickly.

When she straightened, he smiled.

“Should I worry?” Rather than answer with words, she kissed him again.

Clay’s fingers tightened on her hips, and when she lifted her head a second time, he groaned in protest.

She left his side to sit in a chair on the other side of his desk, crossing her legs.

Clay stared at her for a moment before clearing his throat.

“I guess not.” Amanda laughed softly.

“As if you were really concerned.

He showed me ten pictures of Carrie and Katie before he walked me back here,” she said, referring to Matt’s wife and new baby daughter. He smiled.

“I wasn’t. But it got you to kiss me again, didn’t it?” Her smile was slow and knowing, and Clay let a charge pass between them before he leaned forward and braced his arms on his desk.

“How’d your classes go today?” “Fine.

They’re all going to hate me when they do their reading for next class, but I’m ready for the complaining.” She smiled.

“I kept the list of reasons why the book doesn’t ‘suck’ that I made last year when they were ready to burn me in effigy.” Clay laughed.

“You’re tough, Teach.” “I have to be,” she said, smiling. Clay smiled.

“I thought you had a departmental meeting this afternoon?” “I did.

We finished early.

And since I still have an hour before Shelby’s gymnastics practice is over, I thought I’d stop by here.” “I’m glad you did.” Clay pushed his chair back enough to open his desk drawer.

“I was going to wait until tonight, but since you’re here, I might as well bring it up now.” Amanda’s brow wrinkled as she watched him pull a magazine out of his drawer and toss it onto her lap.

Picking it up, she realized it was one of the glossy, pseudo-tabloids that she still had to fight the urge to cover up at the supermarket.

“What’s this?” “Page forty-two.” Glancing at him briefly as she turned to the page, she tried to read his expression.

Whatever was going on, he wasn’t going to tell her.

She’d have to see it for herself, which she did when a two-year-old picture of Clay and herself at a charity event smiled back at her beneath the headline Former Superstar Returns to the Limelight – Finally .

She quickly scanned the article before closing the magazine and tossing it into his trashcan instead of onto his desk.

She lifted her eyes to his.

“So?” “So? So it’s already starting.” “Well, there was a grain of truth – you’re making plans to go out on the road again.

We haven’t been keeping it a secret.” “And the rest?

The allegation that I’m leaving...” He stood and fished the magazine out of the trash, flipping to the right page as he leaned against his desk in front of Amanda.

“No, ‘breaking free from his wife and children as he reclaims the life they stole from him.

Our source alleges that Aiken was overheard saying he was "thrilled" to get away from "the day to day grind of life at home" during a high-powered lunch at an exclusive Los Angeles club last month.

According to the source, Aiken blames his family for his hasty exit from the limelight twelve years ago.

"I didn't have a choice - I had to leave," Aiken is Quote: d as complaining to an unidentified friend.' ” He returned the magazine to the trash and met her eyes.

“What about that?” “It’s bullshit.” Clay laughed sharply, not expecting her to swear.

“You’re awfully calm.” He crossed his arms.

“I expected you to be upset.” “I am upset.

You know it bothers me when they print ridiculousness like that and take things out of context.

But I’m not surprised.

And I expected worse.” “Claiming that I feel like you and the kids ‘stole’ my life from me – that’s pretty bad.

And then they made it look like I blame all of you with that Quote: .

I was talking about the fact that I had to leave - for my family.

Not because of them.” He sighed.

“God knows you tried to talk me out of it.

You argued with me for weeks, but no 'source' ever mentions that.” Amanda tilted her head to the side, studying his face.

She softened her voice.

“Yes, it’s bad. But it’s not true.

And no one who has been around you for more than five seconds would believe it – including Adam and Shelby,” she said, knowing what he was thinking. “I just don’t want them to read this stuff.” Amanda sighed and stood, stepping closer to wrap her arms around his waist.

“So maybe we need to talk to them again.” His expression was full of worry and what looked like fear.

She asked, “Are you having doubts about doing this?” His gaze shifted away for a moment before he spoke.

“No, not really. When we talked about this two months ago, we talked about what it would mean.

I knew that touring would mean disrupting our lives.

I knew it would open us up to the media again.

And I knew that the kids would be a part of that media invasion this time.

They’re both old enough to understand what’s being said about me.

Even if it isn’t bad, they’re old enough that having a dad who’s in the news is something they’ll have to deal with.” He sighed.

“I guess I was just hoping it would be different this time.” Amanda watched him as he stared at the wall behind her.

He blinked slowly, and the mixture of disappointment and resignation in the light green depths of his eyes created a hollow ache in her chest.

She touched her fingers to his cheek, turning his face toward hers.

“It will be different this time.

We’re different. We were silly newlyweds the last time.

We’re practically pros now – even if we don’t always act like it,” she said, smiling.

His lips curved slightly.

“The last time, we were still trying to figure out how we were supposed to take care of the little person we made.” She laughed softly.

“So now we’re trying to figure out how to take care of two little persons, but we’re better at it.” She sobered.

“It’s different, Clay.

The world might not be any different, but we are.

We’re good . Did you know that?

You, me, Adam, Shelby – we’re good.

We’ll be fine. I’m not saying it will be easy , but we’ll be fine.” He stared at her in silence for a few beats.

“I thought I was the calm, rational one and you were the crazy, melodramatic worrier.” She laughed.

“I’m the calm, rational one now .

When I have to dig you out of the pile of bras and underwear that will be thrown on stage every night and ignore the grin on your face as I do it, neither calm nor rational will describe me.” He smiled, shaking his head.

“I’ll be lucky if it’s not tomatoes they’re throwing.” Amanda put her finger to his lips.

“I thought we made a rule – no setting yourself up for failure.” “Just this once?” he asked. She shook her head.

“Nope. No exceptions.” He bent his head to nuzzle her neck, his lips finding the hollow behind her ear.

“You’re tough, Teach.” She smiled.

“I have to be.”

Chapter 7 July 2021 Amanda frowned as she looked at Adam out of the corner of her eye where he sat in the passenger seat of the SUV.

His arms were crossed, and he had his baseball cap pulled low enough that his eyes weren’t visible.

Periodically, he sighed loud enough that she noticed.

She cleared her throat.

“Adam?” He had his headphones in and didn’t respond, continuing to look out the window.

“Adam?” she asked louder. Shelby leaned forward and flicked his shoulder with her finger.

Adam whirled around to glare at her.

“Leave me alone, Shelby.” She rolled her eyes.

“Turn your music down.

Mom wants you.” Adam pulled one of his headphones out as Amanda glanced at her daughter in the rearview mirror.

“You have your stuff together, Shelby?” She nodded, popping her gum.

“Yep.” Amanda glanced at Adam as she pulled into a parking space in front of a dorm complex.

“How about helping us with Shelby’s bags?” He grunted in response, but he left his player on the seat and walked around to the back of the SUV to grab a bag.

When the three of them walked into the first floor lobby a few moments later, Adam dropped the bag with a loud smack on the tile.

Amanda turned her head to shoot him a warning glance, but not before Shelby hit his arm.

“Hey, don’t throw my stuff around, Dork!” Amanda sighed softly.

“Shelby…” “He threw my bag down, Mom!

If he can do that, I can call him a dork!” She put her hands on nonexistent hips.

“I am so totally glad that I don’t have to see you for the next two weeks!” “The feeling is totally mutual,” he mocked.

“ Believe me.” A woman emerged from a room behind the desk in the lobby, a smile on her face.

“Good morning!” Adam rolled his eyes dramatically, and Amanda put her hand on his back. “Why don’t you go wait in the car?” “Would love to.” He caught Shelby’s eye.

“Would totally love to.” She stuck out her tongue at him, and Amanda gently pushed him toward the door. When Amanda looked at the woman behind the desk sheepishly, the latter smiled.

“How many years apart are they?” “Four,” she said, smiling.

“We’re checking in.

Shelby Aiken.” Shelby had wandered a few feet away and was inspecting a display that had been set-up in the lobby.

She turned around and walked back to the desk, folding her arms on top of the counter.

“Will I really get to use the same gym that the actual cheerleaders use?” The other woman nodded as she looked for Shelby’s name in the computer and checked her in with a few keystrokes.

“Absolutely. Have you ever been to the camp before?” She shook her head.

“Nope. We don’t live here, but my mom grew up in Kentucky, and my grandparents live here.” She popped her gum, and Amanda put a hand on her back.

That habit was proving hard to break.

“I was gonna go to a camp in North Carolina where we live, but Mom said the camp here was better.” The woman looked up at Amanda to smile before saying to Shelby, “Our squad has won UCA's National College Cheerleading Championship twenty-two times since 1985 – more than any other Division I school.” She pushed a form across the counter for Amanda to fill out and then leaned over the counter to speak to Shelby.

“Your mom picked a good camp if you want to be a cheerleader.” Shelby tilted her head, making her ponytail swing.

“I don’t know if I want to do cheerleading.

I like gymnastics, though.

I got first place on the vault in our last gymnastic meet.” The woman looked impressed, and Shelby continued.

“I’m really good at the vault, but I love the beam the most.” She paused, thinking.

“My friend, Kathryn – her sister is in the eighth grade and she’s already cheering for the high school football team.

I might try to do that when I’m in the eighth grade.

Will cheerleaders from the real squad be at the camp?” Amanda handed the form back to the woman and put her arm around Shelby.

“She’ll be asking if she can try out for the squad by the time camp is over.” “ Mom ,” Shelby gasped. The woman behind the desk laughed, and after a few more keystrokes, she walked around the counter and bent over to pick up Shelby’s bags.

“She’s all set. I’ll just take her bags back to her room and give you two a minute.” When she disappeared through a door at the end of a hall, Amanda pulled Shelby in for a hug. “Be good, okay?

And have fun. Listen to what they tell you.” Shelby laughed.

“ Duh , Mom. I will.” Amanda kissed her forehead.

“You call Dad or me if you need anything , okay?

Don’t worry about bothering us.” The younger girl nodded.

“Granny and Grandpa will be here to pick you up in two weeks.” Her brow wrinkled.

“You’re okay with all this, aren’t you?” She rolled her eyes.

“Adam totally has the drama routine covered.

I’m cool, Mom.” Amanda laughed, hugging her again.

“I’m glad you’re cool.” The other woman returned, ready to take Shelby to her room, and Amanda tightened her arms one more time before kissing the top of the younger girl’s head.

“Love you.” Shelby grinned.

“Love you, too. Tell Dad to break a leg or whatever.” With a wave, she left with the other woman, and Amanda heard her launch into a barrage of questions.

Smiling, she walked out of the lobby and slipped her sunglasses on when she stepped outside.

Her smile fell when she saw Adam’s sullen face through the windshield, his arms crossed again. After she started the car and backed out of the space, she said, “I hope this attitude isn’t going to last for the next six weeks.” Adam’s cool gaze landed on her face.

“I’m sorry, were you saying something or ruining my summer?” Amanda shook her head.

“We let you get away with a lot, Adam, but that’s enough.

You’ve been hateful for the last three weeks.

I know you’re not happy with the arrangements this summer, but—” “Not happy?

Not happy that I’m being shipped off to camp for two weeks and then spending a week with Granny and Grandpa before flying back home and spending the rest of Dad’s tour with Nana?

Oh, I’m thrilled .

I’m thrilled that I’m being treated like a ten-year-old.

I guess Shelby and I are exactly alike.” Amanda took a deep breath and counted backward from ten before she spoke.

“If you and I are going to talk about this, you’re going to have to lose the attitude, Adam.” He clenched his jaw and looked out the window.

“Are we going to be able to talk about this?” He was silent for a moment before he sighed heavily.

“What’s there to talk about?

You and Dad decided everything months ago.” “What do you think we should have done?” He pulled at the laces of his tennis shoe where his ankle was propped on the opposite knee.

“Y’all could have let me go with you.” “We talked about it, but your dad and I decided that it was better for Shelby and you not to go.

I know touring probably sounds really glamorous to you, but it’s not exactly the right environment for a fourteen-year-old or a ten-year-old.” “I’ll be fifteen next month,” he grunted. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling.

How many times had she used the same reasoning on her parents?

“I know. But being in a different city every night and getting on a bus after midnight every night and everything else that goes with touring – we just didn’t think it was appropriate.” He crossed his arms in silence.

Amanda reached over and patted his leg.

“Instead of concentrating on the fact that you don’t get to go, why don’t you try to look forward to what you’ll be doing while we’re gone.” She smiled.

“Six weeks without Mom and Dad and a month to spend with grandparents who will let you get away with murder?” He didn’t crack a smile.

“Aren’t you looking forward to spending a couple weeks with college basketball players and coaches?

You get to stay in Wildcat Lodge.” She paused.

“Heck, I would love to stay in Wildcat Lodge.” He didn’t respond, and she saw him clench his jaw again as he looked away.

Amanda sighed and left him to his bad mood, knowing she wasn’t going to change it in the next five minutes before she had to leave him. When Adam shoved his hands into his pockets while he stood in the lobby of Wildcat Lodge a few minutes later, his bags around his feet because he said he’d carry them to his room by himself, Amanda had to force herself to let him be mad.

She hugged him, refrained from kissing his cheek because she knew he would resist, and told him she loved him before making herself walk out the door and get back in the car.

And then she called Clay. Two days later “I’m nervous.” Clay took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“Nervous, nervous, nervous.” He repeated the deep breathing and then glanced at Amanda where she was leaning against a makeup table nearby.

“Am I crazy to be doing this?” She smiled.

“There are, according to what someone from the venue told me a few minutes ago, at least eight thousand people who don’t think so.” Clay shook his head.

“So I’m not crazy.

They’re crazy to pay money to see a retired pop star have a mid-life crisis on stage.” Amanda pushed away from the table and reached up to tug on his tie until it was looser around his neck.

“This is not a mid-life crisis.

You drive a Volvo with dual side airbags and your wife is not young enough to be your daughter.” She grinned.

“Nor are you trying to convince her to get breast implants.” He lifted an eyebrow.

“Well…” Laughing, she smacked his arm.

“Clayton Holmes Aiken!” Smiling, he bent his head to kiss her.

“I love it when you middle-name me.” He nipped her bottom lip lightly.

“Means I’m in trouble.” “You like being in trouble?” “Only because getting out of it is so much fun,” he drawled, curving his hands over her hips and pulling her forward.

His gaze followed the neckline of her camisole.

“And there is definitely nothing wrong here.” Amanda used a finger to lift his chin so he would meet her eyes.

“Sweetheart, you have to go out there and get all hot and sweaty and energized before all that fun can start.” She kissed him, her fingers finding the hair behind his ear that was already curling from the humidity of the outdoor venue.

“And then we can get all hot and,” she brushed her lips over his jaw, “sweaty.” Her teeth grazed his skin before she stepped back with a smile.

“Okay?” He nodded slowly, his eyes a dark, warm green.

She tugged on his tie once more.

“Still nervous?” He nodded.

“Yeah. But now I have something to help me get through the show.” He winked at her just as Jerome opened the door behind them.

Clay had called him to get the name of someone who could come on tour as a bodyguard and the other man had only been willing to give him one: his.

Officially, Clay had several security members traveling with him as personal bodyguards for Amanda and himself.

Unofficially , they all worked for Jerome. “Ready?” he asked. “Let’s do this,” Clay said, walking to the door.

He stopped with his hand on the knob.

“Gonna wish me luck?” She smiled.

“I can, but you don’t need it.” “And you don’t think your husband is crazy?” “I think my husband is a rock star – in bed and out of it.” Clay started his first show of his first tour in twelve years with a broad smile on his face.

The next day, a reviewer would attribute it to his excitement to be back on tour again.

Chapter 8 Three Days Later Amanda read the email aloud while Clay was in the bathroom shaving: Hey Mom and Dad, Camp is totally going well.

One of the real UK cheerleaders told me I nailed my front and back handsprings yesterday.

I practiced them all morning so I was really excited that she noticed.

The cheerleaders are super cool and totally not snobs.

I think they really like me.

We get to eat in the real college cafeteria.

I saw Adam there this morning with his basketball friends.

He totally didn’t wave, so I just moved around to the other side of the table and acted like I didn’t even see him.

He can just be mad.

Hope you’re having fun, Mom.

Hope your tour is going good, Dad.

One of the girls at camp asked me for tickets. Gotta go!

Love you like everything! Shel Laughing, Amanda turned in her chair to face the bathroom.

“I think she’s having a good time.” Clay walked into the living room of their suite, wiping off his face with a towel.

“ Shel ? She’s ‘Shel’ now?” “Apparently so.” She glanced at the computer screen.

“And she loves us ‘like everything’ now, evidently.” Clay shook his head.

“We sent our ten-year-old, social butterfly of a daughter to camp where she will spend two weeks with college girls.

We may have just created a monster.” Amanda laughed and stood to run her finger along his jaw.

Clay lifted his eyebrows.

“Smooth enough?” She tore her gaze from his lips to meet his eyes.

“For me or for your fans?” “There’s a difference?” Amanda smiled slowly.

“Oh, yes. Your fans don’t do this.” She closed the space between them, touching her cheek to his for a moment as she inhaled the clean scent of his skin and then dragging her lips over his jaw.

When she pulled back, she heard him make a soft noise in his throat.

She touched his chest lightly, her finger finding a smattering of darker blue dots and warming the skin beneath each one.

“You got water on your t-shirt, Sweetheart.” Clay was aware, when she fluttered her eyelashes before she looked at him, that she knew it drove him to distraction.

Every single time.

He swallowed. “I should probably change then, right?” She found a cluster of freckles on the side of his throat, inches from his ear.

Her tongue touched each one.

“Mmhmm.” Clay was already seeking the smooth skin of her abdomen as his fingers slid down her body slowly enough to make her shiver.

“I thought you wanted to have breakfast?” His voice still shook when desire wrapped itself around them both so suddenly – just as her legs still began to tremble.

Amanda smiled and easily pulled his t-shirt off.

While he watched, she reached for the hem of her own shirt and then tossed it aside.

Quickly walking her fingers from his waist to his shoulders, she leaned into him and found his ear with her lips.

“I do.” Her teeth grazed his ear.

“You just didn’t ask what I wanted for breakfast.” Clay shook his head, rolling to his side and sliding his leg over Amanda’s to keep her from moving as they lay in bed.

“No, you can’t go.” He threw his arm over her, as well, his face inches above hers. She laughed, noticing the beginnings of a purplish red mark on his throat.

It was a little higher than normal.

She brushed her finger over it.

“Looks like you’re wearing the shirt and tie tonight.” “I wore it last night.” She grinned.

“Unless you want dozens of pictures of you with a love bite on your neck to be posted and shared with fans around the globe tomorrow…I’d wear it again.” “They won’t know why I’m not alternating wardrobes.

They know I have a wife.” Her shoulders shook as she laughed.

“But if they knew you had a wife who gave you hickey between last night and tonight, that might shatter the hope that we sleep in separate rooms and don’t ever have sex.” He feigned a horrified expression and covered her mouth with his hand.

“Don’t even say those words!” Clay smiled broadly as she touched her tongue to the center of his palm.

“I’ll let you up on one condition.” She lifted her eyebrows in question, his hand still over her mouth.

“You order an extra plate of strawberries when you order breakfast from room service.” He grinned.

“Deal?” She nodded, and he removed his hand only to kiss her.

When she sat up on the side of the bed to reach for the phone, Clay traced her spine with his finger, smiling when she squirmed. “An extra plate of strawberries?” “Yeah.” “What about whipped cream?” He rolled onto his back and smiled at the ceiling, his hands behind his head.

“Sure, Sweetheart.” He was mentally preparing his strawberry and whipped cream placement strategy as she ordered. “.

. . scrambled eggs on the second order, as well.

With turkey sausage and biscuits.

And apple butter if you have it.” She glanced over her shoulder at Clay, the smile on his face one of pure delight.

“And an extra plate of strawberries.

Yes. And whipped cream.” She smiled.

“And scones, of course.

Mr. Aiken is going to make his own strawberry shortcake.” Clay bolted up in the bed, scooting closer and reaching for the phone as Amanda tried not to laugh.

“Oh, yes. He does it all the time.

It’s his favorite breakfast food.” “ Amanda ,” he whispered.

“Cancel that last bit!” When she hung up with a laugh and turned to look at him, he shook his head.

“I’m not paying for scones.” She bit her lip, smiling.

“You’re going to dispute the bill because of scones?” “I’m not paying for anything that’s not either going in my stomach or on my wife!” Amanda laughed even louder.

“And what makes you think I want to be part of this breakfast buffet?” His expression was smug.

“You’ll do it.” She raised her eyebrows.

“Oh, I will, huh?

How can you be so sure?” She stood and walked into the bathroom.

Clay heard her turn on the shower, and he untangled his feet from the sheets, kicking them onto the floor.

She was already in the shower when he went into the bathroom, and he opened the glass door.

She didn’t even turn around, but he saw her smile. “You’re just going to have to shower again.” “You’re awfully confident.” He laughed and crossed his arms.

“Okay. You’re telling me you don’t want me to eat strawberries off you?” Her back to him, she reached for the water control and switched it off.

Clay smiled. “You’re saying you don’t like it when I have to drag my tongue all over your body to catch every drop?” He lowered his voice to a deep whisper.

“You don’t like it when I want you so much that I beg you to please, please, God, please make love to me?” When Amanda turned around, Clay let his gaze linger as it traveled up her body.

Droplets of water were tracing paths he would follow with his mouth later.

From the other room, he heard a knock on the door.

He winked. “I’ll be right back, Darlin’.” Clay looked at his watch as he waited by the door.

“Now we’re twenty- two minutes late.

Come on, Amanda!” “Just a second!” she yelled from the bedroom.

Jerome had called a half hour before, letting them know he was running a little late but would have a car waiting in the parking garage in five minutes.

Clay looked down, making sure he was, indeed, dressed.

He barely remembered it - getting dressed.

Everything else - he definitely remembered.

He looked at his watch again, this time with a smirk on his face. “Twenty- three minutes.

Amanda!” She rushed out of the room, and Clay opened the door.

She grabbed her purse off the table as she passed it and hurried into the hallway, Clay following her with their only bag.

He punched the button for the elevator.

“What were you doing that took so long?” Amanda reached behind her to check something.

She didn’t remember putting a bra on, but she must have.

Glancing at Clay, she said, “Taking the sheets off the bed and wadding them up on the floor so the maid wouldn’t see the strawberry stains.” He smiled. Jerome had his hands on his hips when the elevator doors opened in the parking garage.

He glanced at Clay.

His shirt was mis-buttoned in two places.

He glanced at Amanda.

She was only wearing one earring.

They both wore faintly guilty expressions – happy, but guilty.

He shook his head with a smile he couldn’t stifle.

“Some things never change, I guess.”

Chapter 9 A Week Later Standing in the wings just off stage, Amanda watched as more and more people filled the venue.

Clay had been worried about the turnout for that evening because the venue was slightly larger than most of the others.

But if the early crowd was any indication, he was going to have a nearly sold out show.

He passed behind her on his way to a meet and greet, whistling.

She looked at him over her shoulder, smiling as he winked.

As she returned her gaze to the crowd, she felt someone at her elbow.

When she saw that it was John, she smiled and slid her arm around him in a sideways hug. “You gonna watch from back here or sit in the crowd?” He had flown out to catch that show and would be with them for a week before he had to go back to L.A. “I thought I’d slip out there for a few songs.” He put his arm around her shoulders “I hear he has some show stoppers in the second half.” Amanda nodded.

“They go nuts when he sings stuff from his last album.” “How’s he doing with all this?” She smiled.

“He’s having a lot of fun.

I think he expected everyone to boo him off stage or something, so every time they scream and cheer, he’s a little surprised.” “Preparing himself in case it flopped?” “Yes.” Amanda frowned, her eyes on the crowd, and John followed the direction of her gaze.

Several women who looked to be in their mid-twenties were filing into the front row, all of them pushing the limits of what constituted clothing.

He tightened his arm around Amanda slightly.

“And how are you doing?” She glanced at him briefly.

“Me? I’m fine.” A small smile lifted his lips.

“Clay might buy that story, but you’re talking to me.” He nodded toward the front row.

“Do they bother you?” She was silent as she watched one of the young women stand and tug on her strapless top that exposed several inches of her abdomen.

She sighed. “Am I horrible if I say that they do bother me?” John laughed softly.

“You’re not horrible.

You’re his wife. What bothers you, exactly?” “I’m not worried about any of them enticing Clay or whatever.

Even if they tried, I trust him.

I just don’t remember acting like that when I was their age.” “When you were their age, you were married to him.

But I know what you mean.” He shrugged.

“But like you said, even if they tried, the two of you are solid.

So what does it hurt if they wear the tight tops and short skirts?” Amanda shook her head.

“I don’t know. I don’t like the way they look at him.” He chuckled.

“With lust in their eyes?” She laughed.

“No. I’ve gotten used to that over the years.

It’s not that.” She was silent for a moment.

“They look…determined – like nothing would stop them from getting to him.” Sighing, she shook her head.

“It’s been so long since I had to worry about this kind of stuff.

It’s been harder to deal with than I expected.” “Have you told Clay?” She nodded.

“He knows. He would have been content to travel with just Jerome this summer, but I told him I would feel better if he had a few more members of security.” She smiled.

“He humors me.” John grinned.

“You have plans for tomorrow afternoon?” “Not that I know of.

Why?” “We’ll go shopping for some ‘clothes’ that will make him humor you even more.” Amanda laughed.

“It makes him nervous when we’re in cahoots, you know?” He winked.

“Which is why I love ‘cahooting’ with you.” Clay took a drink of water, smiling as he swallowed.

Walking down the hall toward his dressing room with John, he laughed and said, “I’m sure I looked stunned.” John laughed.

“You looked more than stunned.

You looked stunned, horrified, amused, and confused – all at the same time.” He shook his head, his shoulders shaking.

“But I suppose anyone would if they were flashed.” Drinking the last of the water, Clay tossed the empty bottle into a trash can as they passed it.

“I certainly didn’t expect it.

Who goes to a concert without a bra on and sits on the front row?” The other man snorted.

“Someone planning on flashing the guy on stage.” He elbowed his friend.

“And you better hope you looked away quickly enough to stay out of hot water with Amanda.” He laughed.

“I was too far away to see – you didn’t drool, did you?” “I didn’t drool !” Clay paused outside the door of his dressing room.

“I don’t even know if Amanda knows about it.” He laughed.

“And if she asks any questions about it, I honestly don’t know how to answer.” “The official party line should probably be that you saw nothing – no matter what you saw.

I certainly wouldn’t get into any kind of comparison conversation.” He grinned.

“And if she doesn’t know already, I’ll be happy to tell her.” Clay rolled his eyes.

“I’m surprised you’re even standing here instead of looking for her.” His friend turned to do just that, a smile on his face, and Clay laughed as he said, “If you find her, tell her to come to my dressing room, okay?” “Oh, I don’t think I’ll have to tell her,” he said, winking as he walked away. Still laughing as he turned the knob, Clay was already in the room before he realized someone had turned off the light.

He lifted a hand to feel for the switch and felt something else instead, something he quickly identified as a woman – her breasts, to be specific.

It probably wasn’t the most rational thought to have as he found a stranger in his darkened dressing room, but Clay was very aware that the breasts were not his wife’s.

“What in the—?” His words were cut off as a very insistent, very wet pair of lips smashed against his.

Well, she tried to smash them against his;

She hit his chin instead, and Clay stumbled as he tried to back away with a yell of surprise.

Her hands were everywhere at once as she successfully found his mouth, and Clay decided it wasn’t actually woman in the room with him – it was an octopus.

“My God! Stop! I…no!

NO!” He was still madly trying to find the light switch, and each time Clay pushed her away, she came right back.

His cheek, nose, and chin took another wet beating, and he could smell the alcohol on her breath each time she mauled his face. Finding what he hoped and prayed was her shoulder, Clay held her an arm length away, which didn’t prevent her from groping madly for the front of his pants as his fingers finally found the switch plate. The bright, fluorescent light seemed to shock her into momentary stillness as Clay finally got a look at the woman.

The brief flash of relief he felt at seeing that she was alone and that he was, indeed, touching her shoulder vanished as her eyes focused long enough to zero in on his mouth.

She moved surprisingly quick, and it was only because he had a lifetime of being told that you didn’t hit girls that she managed to lunge at him as he again yelled a variety of objections and tried to keep her at bay.

She wrapped both her arms around his waist, sloppily attempting to kiss him, and that was the sight Amanda was greeted with as she opened his dressing room door. “I hear the view from the stage wa—” Amanda halted, her gaze darting between her husband’s disheveled clothing and wild hair and the woman who was plastered against him, her mouth covering his and her hands sliding over his backside.

Feeling as if she had just stepped into an alternate universe, Amanda watched in horror as the hands sliding over his backside very deliberately squeezed.

Clay shrieked as he pushed at the woman’s shoulders, and she stumbled back a few steps.

His eyes were wide as he looked at Amanda.

The three of them spoke at once. “Clay!

What in the hell is going on?!?” “Amanda, I—” “Don’t fight it, Baby!” She was all hands once again, both of Clay’s feet leaving the ground as he jumped backward to keep from being caught in a very precarious position.

He moved behind a couch, his pursuer naturally following him.

He looked at Amanda, very aware that his wife still didn’t know why another woman had been trying to stick her tongue down his throat.

“I just found her in here!

This isn’t what it looks like!” He swung a leg over the couch to get away from her, the cushions sliding beneath his feet.

He had hoped because she was unsteady, the woman wouldn’t do the same.

She attempted it, at least, but she rolled off the couch and onto the floor.

As she used the couch to push herself up, fear flashed in Clay’s eyes and over his face.

Amanda stepped between the woman and him, grabbing the former’s arm. “What in the hell are you doing?” The woman, easily half Clay’s age, seemed to realize they had company for the first time.

“We’d like some privacy.” She swayed, latching onto Amanda’s shirt to keep from swinging to the ground again.

“Ish you don’t mind,” she said, clearly irritated as she brushed her long, dark brown hair over her shoulder. Still holding onto the other woman’s arm, Amanda pulled her away from Clay.

His eyes were still wide, his face pale, as his gaze shot to her face.

Amanda wasn’t looking at him, however, her attention focused on the younger woman.

“Excuse me? I do mind.

What are you doing in here?” “You’ll have to get in line, Mishy.” She looked at Clay over Amanda’s shoulder.

“I’m hish girlfriend right now.” Feeling her try to move toward Clay again, Amanda tightened her grip on the other woman’s arm.

“Well, I’m his wife .

He doesn't have a girlfriend.” She cocked her hip to one side in a jerky motion that Clay assumed was meant to entice him.

Her jeans were so tight, he was surprised the seams didn’t burst.

“He wouldn’t if he was satisfied at home.” Amanda briefly wondered if she had lost her mind.

She was arguing with a drunk woman who had attempted to seduce her husband in his dressing room.

But she couldn’t seem to help herself.

“Oh, I assure you, he is satisfied.” Clay looked between the two women, wondering if either noticed that he was in the room.

He should have used their distraction to alert someone with security, but he couldn’t seem to make himself as he watched Amanda verbally spar with the woman.

Her face was flushed, her eyes were shooting daggers at the other woman, and she had just informed a complete stranger that they had a very fulfilling sex life.

A corner of his mouth lifted in amusement. He shifted his eyes to his would-be lover.

If she was over twenty-five, he would be shocked.

And if her tank top could be any tighter, he would be amazed .

She could probably have anyone her own age, but she had snuck into a forty-two-year-old guy’s dressing room and gone further in five minutes than Amanda had on their first date.

She had wanted him .

Amanda would kill him if she knew that somewhere in the Paleolithic caveman part of himself, he enjoyed that knowledge. The other woman passed a condescending glance over Amanda.

“I don’t see how he could be.” Amanda took a step closer.

“Listen, you little slu—” “Amanda!” Mentally apologizing to his entire sex as he shattered their collective dream, Clay sacrificed the opportunity to see a catfight and gave the other woman a wide berth as he pulled Amanda back a few steps.

He walked them both to the doorway, calling for one of the bodyguards.

Patrick was on his way down the hallway, and stopped, the shock on his face evident as he took in the scene in Clay’s dressing room. “I don’t know what happened.

She was in here when I opened the door,” Clay said, moving Amanda down the hall and leaving his surprise visitor in the hands of several members of security.

Very aware that the woman beside him was still fuming, Clay pulled her toward an empty venue office.

When the door shut behind them, he let out a loud sigh.

“I really don’t know what happened.” Amanda put her hands on her hips again.

“I know what happened.

The little slut somehow slipped past security and thought she was going to get in your pants!” He didn’t want to laugh at her, but it had been a long time since Clay had seen Amanda so angry.

He swallowed a laugh, and said, “I agree that someone went to sleep on the job, but you need to calm down.” He considered saying that she really shouldn't refer to the young woman as a slut , but he knew Amanda would not appreciate any comments on her word choices at that moment. Amanda raised her eyebrows.

“Calm down? I need to calm down?

What do you think she wanted, Clay?

An autographed t-shirt?

What if I hadn’t walked in?” “I know what she wanted,” he said carefully.

“And nothing would have happened if you hadn’t walked in.” He frowned.

“Do you think I wanted to sleep with her?” “No, Clay!

I don’t! But I’d like for you to be as upset as I am!” Her hand was shaking as she lifted it to push her hair behind her ear.

“I walk into your room and some woman is kissing you and has her hands on your ass.

And then she tells me to give the two of you some privacy.” She pointed to the door.

“They better be doing more than escorting her out.” “Amanda, please calm down.

Nothing really happened.” “Something happened!

She got in your room!

She kissed you and touched you and…she…what if…what…” Residual adrenaline was making her words tremble as she spoke.

“What if she was some kind of crazy person and had been willing to hurt you or…or…” Finally understanding, Clay pulled her into his arms, holding her head against his chest with one hand and kissing her temple. “Sssh.

I’m fine. Everything is okay.” He tightened his arms.

“It’s over.” Against his chest, Amanda said, “How did she get in there, Clay?

If she could, someone else could – someone who wants to do more than cop a feel.” Clay kissed her again.

“Believe me, I intend to find out how she got in there.

It won’t happen again.” He pulled back to cup her face, his thumb gently caressing her cheek.

“I promise. We’ll take care of it.” Touching his lips to hers, he asked, “Are you okay?” Amanda’s eyes searched his for a moment as she felt the fear finally dissipating.

She took a deep breath and released it slowly.

“I will be.” She stepped into his arms again, the solid wall of his chest comforting.

Deep down, she was still shaken.

How many close calls could he afford before something happened?

But she tried to swallow her worry.

He was okay. She could be okay, too.

She rubbed her cheek against his chest.

“I am.” Clay smiled as he rubbed her back gently.

“If it’s any consolation, I think you could have taken her – no question.” She laughed softly.

“I was ready to.” Her laugh sounded too good.

He needed to hear it again.

Clay nuzzled the side of her neck.

“My little bodyguard.” Amanda smiled, shaking her head.

“Between women flashing you while you’re on stage and throwing themselves at you in your dressing room, I’m thinking your body does need to be guarded.” She pulled back to meet his eyes.

“And don’t think I don’t know you’re not nearly as bothered by these things as I am.” To his credit, Clay did try to find an innocent expression in response.

Amanda smiled. “Don’t bother thinking up some excuse.” She leaned up on her toes to kiss him.

“I know that masculine pride, testosterone thing is hardwired in you people.” Clay laughed.

“‘You people’ – like we’re some kind of alien life form.” She arched an eyebrow, and he scoffed, “Oh, like I don’t notice the way you never seem to get upset when some guy can’t remember that you have a face.” He nodded.

“I see it. You think I don’t see it?

I swear, I think they bring their husbands and boyfriends to the shows just so they can ogle you when you get off the bus.” Her shoulders shook as she laughed.

“None of them are sneaking backstage and hiding in dressing rooms to get to me .” He chuckled.

“She had turned the lights off.

For a split second, I wondered if you were in there waiting for me.” He wagged his eyebrows.

“Feel free to take that as a hint.” She crossed her arms.

“So you’re saying you enjoyed it for a second?” Clay shook his head, curving a hand over her hip and pulling her flush against him with a sharp tug.

“I’m saying I wouldn’t mind doing some fumbling in the dark with you , Sweetheart.”

Chapter 10 Five Days Later Mom and Dad, Hi from Granny and Grandpa’s!

Camp was so much fun.

Can I go back next year?

I told them I would be back, so I really hope I can go because if I can’t I will be so sad.

Can we talk about it when we come to the show next weekend?

Granny said to tell you both that she can’t wait to see you.

She and I are going shopping after I get done with this email.

And oh! Mom! Aunt Stacey said she would make her and Maddie and me appointments to get manicures and pedicures this week!

I’m so totally excited!

I went to her house last night and Maddie isn’t as annoying as she was at Christmas.

Maybe it’s because she’s nine now.

Anyway, we’re having so much fun! Grandpa and Adam have been out in the garage all day.

Hey, Dad, if Adam gets the car that Grandpa is fixing, can I get a new car when I turn sixteen?

I mean, Grandpa will just give it to him.

It’s not like you’d have to pay for it.

I think Adam had fun at his camp, but he’s still a grouch.

Do I have to sit by him at the show?

Can I just hang out backstage with Mom?

Please ?? Granny’s ready!

Love you! Shel Amanda shut the laptop just as Clay walked into the room smoothing a hand over the front of his shirt.

“Does this look okay?” “Are those pants navy blue?” He glanced at his legs.

“Uh. Yeah.” She smiled.

“Then I’d ditch the black belt.” “But it’s dark.

It blends in.” Amanda stood and walked past him into the bedroom of their suite in New York, Clay following her.

He watched as she flipped open his suitcase and unzipped a pocket before pulling out a brown belt.

As she turned around and handed it to him, she said, “If I had a dollar for every time we’ve had this conversation…” “I know, I know…you’d have enough money to buy a husband who could dress himself.” He unbuckled his belt and pulled it off as he talked.

“Were you reading an email from Shelby?” She nodded.

“Mom is taking her shopping, and Adam is probably covered in dirt and grease – he’s helping Dad with the car.” She put his black belt back in the suitcase.

“By the way, Shelby believes that since Dad will want to give Adam this car, she should get a new car when she turns sixteen.” Clay raised his eyebrows, and she laughed.

“And Stacey has evidently promised her a manicure and pedicure this week.” Clay picked up a brown blazer from the bed and asked, “Are you sure this matches?” “I’m sure.” As he put his jacket on, he said, “This manicure/pedicure thing – am I going to be roped into taking her to these in the future now that she’s had one?” Amanda smiled and touched his stomach.

“With that pink shirt, you’ll fit right in.” “You said it wasn’t pink!” She laughed.

“It’s not technically pink.

It’s called ‘chili pepper.’ I remember because John said it sounded too wild for you, and I informed him that he was wrong about that,” she said dryly. Clay smiled at her remark before looking down at his shirt.

He sighed. “No chili pepper is this color.

It’s pink, isn’t it?

I knew I shouldn’t have let John take you shopping while he was here.” He glanced at her.

“This is the first major interview I’ve done in twelve years;

Everything has to be perfect.

Is this shirt a problem?” Amanda crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe with a slow smile.

“It's a shirt, Clay.

And I should think your masculinity should be plenty secure after last night, Mr.

Aiken.” Tugging on his cuffs until they poked out of the sleeves of the jacket, Clay grinned.

“Don’t forget this morning.” “I haven’t forgotten, Darlin’,” she drawled.

“See my point?” Clay glanced at his watch.

“If I didn’t think Brenda would be knocking at the door in about five minutes, I’d show you another point.” She arched an eyebrow, fighting the urge to laugh at his leering grin.

“Five minutes has never stopped you before.” His laugh was deep in his throat.

“If I didn’t have to take the time to dress again, it wouldn’t stop me now, Sweetheart.” Laughing softly, Amanda stepped forward and slid her hands up his chest.

Her kiss was gentle at first, coaxing Clay’s lips to part before her tongue swept over his.

The material of her skirt bunched in Clay’s hands as he sought bare skin.

She smiled against his mouth.

“More like three minutes now,” she whispered. Clay dragged his mouth to her neck, to the hollow at the base of her throat.

She tasted differently than she had that morning, something like strawberries and maybe spice.

He wanted more. “I like challenges,” he murmured.

Amanda chuckled, the sound freezing in her throat when Clay’s fingertips whispered over her thighs.

She felt the smooth edge of his teeth against her skin as he smiled and then nipped at her neck.

“Actually, I love challenges.

I thought you knew that by now,” he breathed.

His hands cupped her bottom as he lifted her with a soft groan, and the sound of knocking came from the other room.

He raised his lips barely enough for breath to pass between them. “That’s Brenda,” Amanda said, more than a hint of whine in her voice. Clay sighed, letting her go even as his arms threatened to rebel and keep her close.

“She’s right on time.

That’s the problem with new managers.

She hasn’t learned yet.” Amanda tugged her skirt down, her skin still tingling from his feathery touch.

“Learned to be at least five minutes late?” Clay walked into the bathroom and bent over to splash water on his face.

“More like fifteen.

Fifteen gives me time to get dressed again.” He heard Amanda laugh as she left the bedroom to let Brenda in.

When he joined them a few moments later, his tour manager tapped her watch. “The guy from Time is already downstairs.” “I’m ready.” He glanced at Amanda.

“You sure you don’t want to sit in on the interview?” “I’m sure.

I’m gonna work on some school stuff while you’re gone.” He nodded and turned to follow Brenda who had already walked to the door and was holding it open.

Amanda took a couple hurried steps to catch up to Clay and lean up to whisper in his ear, “And maybe take a cold shower.” He grinned and kissed her quickly before leaving with Brenda.

As they rode the elevator downstairs, she cast a sideways glance at his shirt.

“Pink?” “It’s called ‘chili pepper.’” “Has it been difficult to adjust to life on the road again after so many years?” Brad, the interviewer from Time , asked Clay as they sat a table in the hotel restaurant. Clay took a sip of his water, smiling as he sat the glass down.

“It’s been easier than I expected.” He laughed.

“Actually, in a lot of ways, this job is easier than my other ‘job.’” “Easier?” “I’m not saying it’s not work;

It’s a lot of work and it’s a crazy schedule to keep at times.

But at the same time, my day is structured.

When I get up in the morning, I know what I have to do for the day.

I have an interview at this time,” he gestured with his hands, “I have a sound check at this time, I have a meet and greet at this time, the show starts at a scheduled time, and then I have to be on the bus on my way to the next city or I go back to the hotel.

At home, on the other hand,” he laughed, “even if I try to structure my time, a million things happen that I didn’t plan for.” “Since it has been easy for you to transition back into touring and being on the road, do you think, looking back, that you could have juggled this and your family without ‘retiring’ from the business so young?” Clay shifted in his seat, propping his ankle on his knee and leaning an elbow on the arm of the leather chair.

“Honestly, I probably could have, but I’m glad I didn’t try to any longer than I did.

At the time that I decided to retire, my family needed me more than ‘the business’ needed me.

And I needed them more, as well.” “Do you think it would have gotten easier over time, though, and you could have maintained your career?” “I’m sure it would have gotten easier – but at what cost?

During those years that I would have spent figuring out how to handle having so many irons in the fire – who knows how my family might have suffered?

The way I looked at it then and the way I look at it now is this: I owe my fans a lot.

A career in this industry takes a lot of work if you do it right.

I owe my family much more, and being a father and husband takes even more work.

When I was trying to juggle both, neither side was getting my full attention.

I had to make a choice, so I did.” “No regrets?” He leaned back in the chair.

“No. None.” “So, when you made the decision to do this tour, you felt you could give it the attention it needs without shortchanging your family?” He nodded.

“Our kids are fourteen and ten now.” He smiled.

“They don’t exactly mind having a few weeks away from their mom and dad.

My wife’s career allows her to travel with me in the summer, and we don’t have to worry about the kids being in school and needing us.” “They support your decision to tour again?” “Absolutely.

It was my wife, in fact, who convinced me to do it.” He smiled.

“Actually, she told me I was doing it.” The interviewer smiled, making note of something.

“And your kids?” “I think it’s probably a little harder for them to understand, but they know this is something I want to do, and they’ve been supportive.” His conscience pricked at him – Adam certainly hadn’t been supportive, but that wasn’t Brad from Time magazine’s business. “They don’t understand?” “My son was just three when we left L.A., and my daughter has never known me as anything other than her dad who gets up and goes to work like every other dad.

They understand, obviously, that I had a very different life before they were born and when my son was younger, but it’s not a real part of their lives.

The few things I’ve done over the years haven’t given them much of a glimpse of what it’s really like to have this kind of career.” “Will they be seeing any of this tour?” “Yes,” he said, nodding.

“They’ll be able to catch a few shows.

I want them to be a part of it in as much as I want them to see what I do and maybe understand why I do it, but they both have their own lives and interests and friends at home – what Dad does for a living shouldn’t be a huge part of their lives.

That’s why we made the decision that my wife and I would travel without them this summer.” Brad looked at his notes, pausing for a moment.

“ In Touch magazine ran an article a few months ago that alleged you were eager to go on the road and get away from your family.” Clay stiffened.

“How do you answer allegations like that?” “I don’t normally answer tabloid allegations,” he said smoothly, hoping the other man heard the irritation in his tone. “You consider In Touch to be a tabloid?” “A tabloid is basically anything that is primarily sensationalist journalism.

When a magazine runs a derogatory story on a celebrity without any attempt to provide a fact-checked article, I would consider that sensationalist journalism.” He cleared his throat.

“And the allegations you referred to were also carried in other tabloids – all completely false.” “Would you like to respond to those articles?” “No.” Brad stared at him for a moment before reaching over and hitting a button on the recorder between them.

“Off the record – I don’t know that I’d have the same restraint.” Clay smiled.

“If you were the author of one of those articles, I wouldn’t have any restraint.” The other man laughed and restarted the recorder.

“Tabloid rumors have plagued you since the beginning of your career – many well-publicized.

Has it gotten any easier over the years?” “I don’t know if I’d say it’s easier.

You stop paying attention to it.

You stop being surprised by it.

But it’s always a difficult part of this business – especially when you have a family that gets dragged into it.” “Has having a family changed how you deal with the rumors and gossip?” “It’s made me more aware of how I react to the rumors.

I have two children who are watching me and taking their cues from me.

I’m very aware of the fact that I’m setting an example for them.

And it has made me more vigilant about my privacy, of course.

Like I said before, I’m the one who signed up for a career in the music industry years ago.

I’m the one who is pursuing it again now.

My wife and kids support me and put up with it, but they shouldn’t be forced to live their lives under a microscope, as well.

I try to keep their lives and our family life as normal as possible.” Brad nodded.

“You mentioned pursuing a career in the music industry again.

Is this tour a type of testing-the-waters?” “On some level, I suppose it is.” He cleared his throat.

“As a litmus test of sorts, we did a few small shows in different markets back in the spring.

After twelve years, I didn’t know what to expect.

I didn’t know if people would even remember me, let alone pay money or travel to see me again.

I’ve been very pleasantly surprised by the response.” “So you would consider doing this full-time again?” He smiled.

“I’m not going to say anything definite at this point.” He laughed.

“I say the wrong thing and you print it, and I’ll have thousands of fans wanting to know when I’m releasing a new album.” The other man chuckled.

“I’ve thought about it, of course.

It would be a big change, so it’s a big decision.

And it’s not one that I’ll make alone.

My wife, our kids, the rest of my family and close friends – a lot of people will help me with any planning for the future I do.” “But you would consider it?” “I wouldn’t be doing what I did when I was twenty-eight.” He took another sip of water.

“I’ll be forty-three this fall, and I’m not interested in the constant touring and constant media attention anymore.

I don’t even know if I have the energy for it at this point in my life.

But would I consider doing what a lot of other artists have done late in their careers and doing a major tour every couple years?

Yes. Would I consider going back into the studio and taking my time putting together an album that could be released to coincide with one of those tours?

Yes.” He leaned forward, resting his arms on the table.

“The great thing about easing my way back into this field at this stage is that there are a million different things I could do.

I’m not trying to establish my career;

I’m not trying to keep it at a certain level like I was before.

It’s easier now; it’s more relaxed.

And even if I ‘fail,’ I have a life I love back home that will always come first.” Brad nodded, making another note, and then raised his head to smile and ask, “Any surprises so far on this tour?” Clay laughed.

“I’m not just surprised, I’m absolutely stunned that people are still so excited to come out and see us put on a show.” He shook his head, smiling.

“I didn’t get it then, and I don’t get it now.” “One of the biggest stories of your career before was the devotion of your fans – has that devotion been the same this tour?” “They amaze me.

The devotion is still there – above and beyond what I could have expected.” He smiled.

“It’s been twelve years, so a lot of the fans who were teenagers before are in their twenties now.” He shook his head.

“I look at them and wonder if there’s some kind of shortage of guys in their twenties and thirties these days.

That’s the only way I can fathom them wanting to come and see some old, dorky guy sing.” He laughed, even as he wondered for what seemed like the millionth time if he was crazy to be doing this again.

“But if I do start to feel like some kind of rock star, my wife does a good job of reminding me that I will be forty-three in a few months.” Brad laughed.

“It’s always good to have that grounding force, I suppose.” Clay smiled.

“She doesn’t have to remind me so often , though.

We’re two weeks into the tour, and she’s already keeping her calendar handy so she can flip it open and show me where my birthday is circled,” he joked. The other man looked over his notes, and said, “A few more quick questions, and I think we’re done.

What did you miss most about touring?” Clay thought for a moment.

“I like the traveling.

Seeing so much in such a short time is exciting to me, even if it is exhausting.

And the energy that comes with performing is…incredible, absolutely incredible.

A big part of the reason I’m even doing this is because I was itching to get back out there and perform.

The fans. I missed them.” “What do you miss about home now that you’re on tour again?” He laughed.

“Sleeping in a real bed every night.” “What’s the one thing you didn’t miss about touring?” He grinned.

“If I said interviews, would you print it?” They shared a laugh, and Clay said, “The food.” “The food?” Clay smiled.

“I’ve had home-cooked meals for a long time.

Touring kind of feels like college sometimes – you forget what it’s like to sit down at your own table and eat food that was cooked in your own house.” “Okay.

What’s the one thing you don’t miss about home?” He tilted his head, thinking.

“Answering the phone.” He smiled.

“There are half a dozen people around to answer the phone on tour.

At home, I have to share more of the load.” The other man chuckled.

“Last one: is touring as much fun now as it used to be?” Clay grinned.

“It’s more fun now.”

Chapter 11 The Next Day Clay flipped his phone shut and looked at Amanda as they sat in the back of the car while Jerome drove.

“Brenda reminding me that the Stub Hub meet and greet will be after the show tonight instead of before.” Amanda nodded.

“And tomorrow morning?

What time do we have to be at the GMA studio?” “We’re doing the concert earlier than normal so I can get out of there faster - the sound check is at six-thirty.

We have to be there at five-thirty.” “And you’re supposed to make it over to The Today Show by when?” “Nine.” He smiled.

“And The Early Show is the next morning.” Amanda leaned her head against the back of the seat.

“How about I just sleep in and you go to all these things by yourself until we leave New York?” Just that morning, he had appeared on one talk show and taped an interview for another. He laughed.

“You agreed to ‘for better or worse,’ Sweetheart.

That includes early mornings.” She shook her head.

“We wrote our own vows.

I just said that I’d love you for the rest of my life.

There was no early morning clause.

I’m off the hook.” It was easy to joke about his schedule, but it had been so long since Amanda had seen Clay operating on little sleep – she couldn’t help but worry a little when he was being pulled in so many different directions at once. Clay leaned over and kissed her forehead.

“I can go alone. Stay in bed if you want.” Amanda smiled.

“You give in a lot quicker now than you did sixteen years ago.

I’ve trained you well,” she joked.

She sat up and laid her hand on his thigh, rubbing his leg.

“Of course I’m going.

But if I sleep during the concert, don’t take it personally.” “Deal,” he said, laughing.

He glanced out the window and said to Jerome, “I’m supposed to ask for a James Hollingsworth when we get there.

He’s the director of the neurology division.” One of the benefits of being on tour again was that it provided opportunities for Clay to see and do things other than perform.

Because he had three back-to-back shows in New York and would be there for a few days before and after, Clay had mentioned to his manager that he would like to visit a hospital in the city.

She had begun trying to set up a visit to a children’s cancer center, but after Amanda and he had talked later that night, Clay had decided he would like to do something different if he could.

When he had explained his idea to Brenda, she had contacted someone in the neurology wing of Beth Israel Medical Center.

Since Amanda’s grandmother and his own grandfather had passed away years before, both from degenerative neurological disorders, he had a special place in his heart for those patients. Watching Amanda look out the window now, he wondered if she was thinking of her grandmother.

He covered her hand on his leg and squeezed her fingers.

She didn’t speak, but she scooted closer, erasing the few inches separating them and laying her head on his shoulder.

Clay kissed the top of her head, and they rode in silence until Jerome was directed to a special place to park in the parking garage and they got out of the car. After meeting with the director, Clay, Amanda, and Jerome were escorted through the neurology wing while Mr.

Hollingsworth gave them a short tour.

As they neared a room with the door ajar, Clay caught a glimpse of a young boy up on his knees on the bed.

He looked to be eight- or nine-years-old, and was trying so hard to look out into the hall that Clay was afraid he would fall.

Clay stopped the director, indicating the room with a tilt of his head.

“Would it be okay if I went in there?

His curiosity is about to make him fall off the bed,” he said with a laugh. Mr.

Hollingsworth smiled and waved over a nurse who was watching anxiously from a nearby station.

He introduced her as Pamela. “It’s such a pleasure to meet you, Mr.

Aiken,” she said, smiling.

“We’re so happy that you could visit today.” “I’m happy to be here.

And please, call me Clay.” Amanda watched a happy blush stain the younger woman’s cheeks, and she smiled to herself.

She understood his effect on people more than he did, but even she was amazed at how easily he could make someone’s day.

Clay pointed to the room.

“Are you his nurse?” Pamela nodded.

“Yes. His name is Jack.” “Would it be okay if I visited with him for a minute?” “Let me check with his mom, but I’m sure he would love that.” As she disappeared inside the room, Clay looked down at Amanda.

She smiled at him. “What?” he asked. She shook her head.

“Later.” He shot her a quizzical look even as he smiled, and then followed Pamela into the room after she opened the door the rest of the way and waved him in.

Amanda stood at the door with Jerome, watching as Clay introduced himself to Jack and his mother.

By the look on his mother’s face, no introduction was necessary;

Her eyes were wide as saucers, and her smile threatened to break her face.

Amanda glanced at Jerome.

“Never in a million years would he have told me how much he missed this.” She returned her gaze to Clay as he sat in a chair beside Jack’s bed and gave the young boy his full attention.

“And I don’t know if I realized how much he really did until now,” she said softly. Jerome nodded.

“He wouldn’t have told you.” He smiled.

“But I think you knew before now.” As Clay chatted with Jack, the nurse walked toward Amanda and Jerome, smiling as she passed them.

“I’ll be hearing about this visit for weeks,” she said. Amanda crossed her arms, smiling.

“Is Jack a fan of his?” She glanced at one of the other nurses to make sure she had the time to chat.

“His mom is, so he knows who Clay is.

He just likes visitors.” She smiled.

“Once you get him talking, it’s hard to get a word in edgewise.” She tilted her head toward a virtually silent Clay as he sat beside the bed and nodded in interest at Jack’s story of the moment.

“As you have probably already noticed.” Amanda laughed.

“That will be a change.

Usually it’s everyone else who can’t get a word in edgewise with Clay.” Pamela smiled.

“This is good for him.

It gets his mind off things.” “Why is he here?” Amanda asked gently. “He’s having surgery tomorrow to remove a tumor in his brain that has been causing seizures.” Her gaze was on the young boy who was standing on his knees on the bed, his hands moving nearly as quickly as his lips as he gestured. Amanda also watched his animated movements.

A lock of thick, strawberry blonde hair fell over his forehead, reminding her of Shelby, and he pushed it out of his eyes.

Without looking at Pamela, she asked, “How old is he?” “He told me he would be ten in a few weeks.” She smiled.

“He’s excited about becoming a double digit.” Amanda managed a small smile.

Shelby had turned eleven less than two weeks before while she was at camp.

Clay had flown home from rehearsals before the tour started so they could celebrate early.

She couldn’t help but let her gaze pass over Jack’s mother, unable to imagine how the other woman must be feeling.

When she looked at Jack again, he was still on his knees as he watched Clay with a hopeful expression while the latter admired what appeared to be an autographed baseball.

When Clay looked up with a smile on his face, the young boy’s eyes lit up and he began talking excitedly again.

She swallowed over a sudden lump of emotion.

“Will he be okay?” “The tumor was caught early again, so his chances are good.” She smiled.

“He hates being in the hospital, though.

He’s a sports fanatic.” Amanda smiled.

“I have one of those at home.” She nodded toward the boy.

“Is baseball his favorite?” “He’s a huge Mets fan.

He never misses a game if he can help it.” She started to continue, and then apologized as one of the other nurses called out her name.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Aiken.

I’m being paged.” “Oh, don’t apologize,” she said, watching her walk away.

One of the other nurses was soon at her elbow. “Sorry Pamela had to run off.

One of our patients has PD and she won’t take medicine from the rest of us – only Pamela.” “Parkinson’s Disease?” The nurse nodded.

Amanda unconsciously wrapped her arms around herself.

“My grandmother had Parkinson’s.” Her expression was apologetic.

“I’m sorry.” Pamela joined them a few seconds later.

“How’d it go?” “She took it, but she’s still asking when her granddaughter will be here.” She smiled, nodding toward Clay inside the room.

“He’ll never get away now.” Amanda turned toward them.

“I know it’s Clay’s visit, really, but would it be possible for me to visit this lady you’re talking about?” The second nurse said, “Ms.

Cain?” Amanda nodded.

“The lady with Parkinson’s.” Pamela said, “I think that would be fine as long as you don’t mind me being in the room.” She smiled.

“I don’t mind.” Quickly letting Jerome know where she was going, Amanda followed the nurse down the hall. Pamela stopped outside the door, looking at Amanda.

“She’s having a fairly good day today, but she gets confused easily.” “My grandmother didn’t have the tremors,” she said softly.

“But her dementia was severe – especially at the end.” The nurse nodded silently and then knocked on the door.

“Ms. Cain? How about some company?” “Lisa?” She looked at Amanda.

“Lisa is her granddaughter’s name.” As they walked into the room, she said, “Lisa isn’t here, but there’s someone who wanted to say hello to you.” She let Amanda step forward and started to introduce them when Amanda spoke first. “Good morning, Ms.

Cain. My name is Amanda.

You mind if I sit in your chair here?” “That’s what it’s there for, isn’t it?” Sitting up in the bed, she crossed her arms over a white cotton gown with a high collar.

Her long hair was pure white and secured on the back of her head in a bun. Amanda smiled, sitting down.

“How are doing today?” “Waiting on my granddaughter.

Do you know Lisa?” “I don’t.

But if she’s half as beautiful as you are, I’ll know her as soon as I see her.” Across the room, Pamela leaned against an empty bed.

“I’m visiting the hospital with my husband today, and the nurses were telling me about you.” “Telling you what?” she demanded, her ice-blue eyes pinned on Amanda. “They told me you were someone I needed to meet.” She smiled. “You have children?” “I do.

My son will be fifteen next month, and my daughter just turned eleven.” “I have a son.

Robert. He never visits.” “But your granddaughter, Lisa, visits?” Pamela shook her head from the other side of the room. “She’s usually on time.” She looked at her wrist where a watch would be.

“But today she’s late.

She was late last week, too.” Her fingers closed around the top of the blanket, fear crossing her features.

“I hope she wasn’t in an accident.

You know how she drives.” “I’m sure she’s fine,” Amanda said quietly, watching the older woman fold, unfold, and refold a section of the blanket.

“She’s probably just stuck in traffic.” She was silent for a moment before tossing the blanket down and pushing herself up in the bed.

“I left the dryer running, didn’t I?” Pamela spoke.

“You turned it off, Ms.

Cain. We’ve folded everything and put it away.” The older woman sighed and laid her hands down on the bed at her side.

She looked at Amanda.

“Do you know Lisa?” Amanda shook her head, swallowing painfully as she saw a cloud pass over eyes that had been clear moments before.

“I don’t. But if she’s half as beautiful as you are, I’ll know her as soon as I see her,” she said with a small smile. Ms.

Cain stared at her in silence for a moment.

“You went to school with Lisa, didn’t you?” She patted the mattress, indicating that Amanda should put her hand on the bed.

When she did, the older woman squeezed her hand gently.

“Tell Lisa I forgot to get her a card, but I’ll get one the next time I get out.

Tell her I’ll get it in the mail tomorrow.” “I’ll tell her,” she said softly.

Behind her, there was a knock on the door.

When Amanda looked over her shoulder, it was to see Clay poke his head into the room.

He smiled as he walked in and stopped beside the bed. “Who’s this pretty lady you’re talking to?” he asked, sliding his arm around Amanda’s shoulder. The older woman studied him for a moment.

“You’re that young man.

You were here this morning.” Pamela walked closer to the bed.

“This is Clay Aiken, Ms.

Cain. He’s visiting the hospital today.

You saw him on TV this morning.” She pushed at her blankets, shaking her head.

“I know damn well who he is.” She looked up at Clay.

“You sing.” Clay smiled.

“Yes, Ma’am, I do.

Did you hear me sing this morning?” “I did.” His lips twitched.

“How did I sound?” She crossed her arms.

“You were a little flat.” He sighed.

“You know, I was afraid I was flat.

Thank you for telling me.” She nodded.

“Glad to help.” Clay smiled.

“Do you sing?” “I do.

Have for years.” She looked at Amanda.

“Lisa and I sing together, don’t we?” Clay looked down at his wife and saw her blinking back tears before she tried to answer.

He cleared his throat.

“Would you let me sing with you, Ms.

Cain?” “Fine. I’ll start.” She was silent for only a beat before she began a familiar hymn in a strong alto voice.

Clay joined her mid-way through the verse, and when he abruptly switched to another song in the middle of the chorus as he followed her lead, Amanda’s tears were coming faster than she could wipe them away.

The older woman stopped suddenly a few moments later, leaving Clay to sing the rest of the verse by himself.

She nodded when he finished.

“Better than this morning.

Keep practicing.” Rubbing Amanda’s back, he smiled.

“I certainly will, Ma’am.” He extended his hand.

“It was a pleasure to duet with you, Ma’am.

If I ever need another back-up singer, can I give you a call?” She shook her head.

“I’m retired.” Clay smiled.

“I was, too.” “Thank you again.

For everything.” Clay shook Mr.

Hollingsworth’s hand before Jerome and he walked toward the private elevator the hospital had allowed them to use.

Once inside, he looked up at his friend.

“She said she would wait by the vending machines just inside the door.” When they left Ms.

Cain’s room, Amanda was still crying.

Unable to really comfort her in the middle of a hospital, Clay had said he would cut the visit short and they could go back to the hotel.

She had told him no, that she would wait downstairs while he finished.

He leaned against the wall of the elevator.

“When you told me where she was, I wondered if it would upset her.” Jerome nodded.

“I wondered the same thing.

But she wanted to go.” As the doors opened, Clay’s eyes scanned for her.

“And she’s probably glad she went, but it’s always hard for her.” Spotting her sitting in a chair in a small waiting area, Clay quickened his pace while Jerome hung back.

The other man stood out of earshot, averting his eyes when he saw the two of them embrace.

It was only a moment before they joined him, Clay’s arm around Amanda’s waist as they found the car. While Jerome was preoccupied with negotiating through traffic, Clay rubbed his hand over Amanda’s leg lightly in the backseat.

“You okay?” She nodded, still fingering a waded, dampened tissue.

“It was just all too familiar for a few minutes.” He kissed her temple.

“I know.” Sliding his arm behind her, he pulled her closer.

“She wasn’t a bad singer.” Amanda laughed softly.

“She was pretty good.” She let out a cleansing breath.

“Did you visit a lot of patients after I left?” “A few.” He smiled.

“On a hunch, I stopped by Jack’s room again before I left.

Baseball is his favorite, but something he said reminded me of Adam, and I asked him about basketball.” He tickled her side lightly.

“You’ll be happy to know that he prefers college over the NBA.” She laughed.

“Smart kid.” Clay grinned.

“I knew you’d like that.

He doesn’t really have a favorite team, but since Kentucky won the championship in April, I thought he might like something signed by the players.

How would you feel about me getting in touch with them and working something out?” Amanda smiled.

“I think that would be wonderful.” She laughed.

“And I think you’re enjoying having clout again.” He chuckled.

“I’m not ashamed to admit that I am.” He sighed.

“I’m glad we did this today.” Spending time at the hospital had been a strong pull toward normalcy.

During his years away, he hadn’t had the opportunities to do it as often as he had when he was touring, but it was still a step closer to the life he had known for twelve years – much more so than performing every night. She laid her head against his shoulder, turning toward his body.

“Me, too.” “I didn’t realize how much I missed this part until today.” Amanda smiled.

“Me, either.”

Chapter 12 Five Days Later “And this is your dad’s dressing room,” Amanda said as she opened the door and let Shelby and Adam walk in ahead of her. Shelby walked to the mirror and leaned forward to inspect her hair.

She glanced at the make-up scattered over the table.

“Does Dad wear make-up?” “Some.

To keep the stage lights from washing him out.

You remember when you were in the play last year and had to wear all that extra make-up?” The young girl nodded.

“That was for the same reason.” Adam shoved his hands into his pockets, his gaze sweeping over the table.

“That’s dumb.” Amanda looked at her son.

He had dutifully walked around as she had given Shelby and him a backstage tour while Clay was in his meet and greet before the show, but he had been coolly detached and verging on rude since her parents had dropped the two children off that afternoon.

His baseball cap was pulled low over his eyes, his hair curling where it stuck out beneath the cap and needed to be cut.

“Why is it dumb?” she asked. He shrugged.

“Just is.” Turning away from her, he crossed the room and sat down on the couch with a loud sigh.

“How long do those meet and greets last?” “Usually around thirty minutes, but it depends on how many people there are.” He sighed again, leaning his head back on the couch and staring at the ceiling.

“And then what?” “Then the show.

Duh ,” Shelby said as she looked at the clothes on a rack nearby.

“What is Dad wearing for the show tonight, Mom?” “He’ll start the show in that shirt that’s hanging by itself.” “With this tie?” Shelby asked, fingering the striped tie draped over the shoulders of the shirt. “Yes.

You like it?” The young girl smiled.

“It’s cool. I really like this shirt.” She laughed.

“I didn’t know Dad was so cutting edge,” she said, indicating the different colored cuffs and collar. “Those cuffs are pastel,” Adam said. When Amanda looked at him, he met her gaze and she saw a challenge in his eyes.

She turned to her daughter.

“Can you give me a minute with your brother, Shelby?” “Sure.

Can I go talk to Kayla?” she asked, referring to one of Clay’s back-up singers. “As long as she’s not busy,” Amanda said, following her daughter to the door.

When she saw that Shelby found Kayla and that the other woman didn’t mind the company, Amanda returned to the dressing room and closed the door.

Adam had picked up a gift someone had sent backstage and was looking at it. “Why do people draw pictures of him?” he asked, returning the sketch to the table with the other gifts. Amanda sat beside him on the couch, turning to face him.

“Because they love him, and they want to give him something to show that.” He made a face.

“A drawing?” “They put a lot of work into making something for him – that’s what matters.” He shrugged.

“I guess.” Amanda studied his face.

“Did you not want to come to the show with your sister and grandparents?” “Why wouldn’t I want to come?” “I don’t know.

I just know you’ve been almost rude most of the afternoon.

Would you have rather stayed at home?” He laughed.

“By myself? Yeah, right.

Like you guys would have let me do that.” “No, we wouldn’t have left you completely alone, but we could have worked something out if you had talked to us.” He crossed his arms.

“Whatever.” “We’re not trying to punish you, Adam.

I know you think we’re treating you like a child by not letting you travel with the tour, but your dad and I are doing what we think is best for you.

And no matter how upset you are, making snide remarks about what your dad wears or acting like you’re miserable when you’re around us isn’t helping this situation.” He didn’t say anything, his jaw clenched as she stared at his profile.

“I know you’re not a child.

And because of that, I expect you to try to drop this attitude and act like the adult you want to be treated like.

This tour is important to your dad, and he’s very excited that Shelby and you are here to see the show.

He’s actually nervous to perform in front of the two of you.” He didn’t turn to look at her, but she saw his eyes shift in her direction.

“He’s nervous?” “Yes.

He wants to make the two of you proud.” “Did he say that?” Amanda smiled.

“Not in so many words, but he does.” Adam was silent for a few beats before he sighed and met Amanda’s gaze.

The mixture of bravado and uncertainty reminded her of Clay suddenly.

He had had the same look when they first met, when he was still getting his bearings in his new life.

He hadn’t had much control over his own life, and he was desperately fighting for more of it.

Adam wasn’t trying to figure out how to become a pop star, but he was trying to figure out how to be a man.

She reached over and flipped the bill of his cap, smiling.

“If John were here, you’d be getting a hair cut, Mister.” A tiny smirk lifted his lips.

“I like it like this.” She heard the mild defiance in his voice.

“You do, huh?” He nodded.

“Well, maybe I can learn to live with it.” His smile broadened, a dimple appearing in his cheek, and she was laughing as Clay opened the door.

He glanced between Amanda and his son, relieved to see one laughing and the other smiling.

Adam had been so sullen earlier, he had wondered if the weekend would be a disaster.

He started to speak when Shelby wrapped her arms around him from behind and nearly knocked the wind out of him.

She giggled as he made a noise of surprise. “A simple ‘hey, dad,’ would have worked,” he said with a smile as she let go and walked around him to stand in front of him. “How was your meet and greet?” she asked, staring up at him. Clay put his arm around her shoulders.

“It was good, Shelby Girl.

Did Mom give you the tour while I was gone?” She nodded.

“Yeah. And I’ve been hanging out in Kayla’s dressing room.” She closed her eyes, smiling.

“She let me put on her sparkly eye shadow.

See?” Clay looked at his daughter’s eyelids which were now a glittering blue and then at Amanda, who shook her head and shrugged.

Shelby was still waiting for his comment, her eyes closed, and he said, “I see.

You’ll blind people when you walk outside and light bounces off your eyelids.” Laughing, she opened her eyes.

“Can I hang out with her until the show starts?” Before he could answer, she stuck out her bottom lip in a small pout and added, “ Please ?” for good measure.

Clay, again, glanced at Amanda.

Her smile was sympathetic.

Since both Adam and Shelby had bounded into their preschool classrooms without a backward glance at their parents, it hadn’t gotten much easier to see them not as affected by time apart as Amanda and Clay were. He finally nodded.

“Sure. If you want to.” He kissed her forehead.

“But I expect to see you in the crowd, okay?” She hugged him tightly.

“Sure thing, Dad!” Clay turned slightly to watch her hurry out of the room, and Amanda stood when he looked back at her.

She stopped beside him, leaning up to kiss his cheek before speaking. “I think I’ll go make sure our daughter doesn’t talk Kayla into making her a ten-year-old Cover Girl spokesmodel.” After Amanda left, Clay and Adam shared a silent glance.

The younger man stood.

“What do you have to do now?” “With Derek’s opening act and an intermission, I still have forty-five minutes before I have to be on stage.

I just have to change and Marcus has to do hair and make-up.” Adam tilted his head back to look at Clay beneath the bill of his cap.

“Doesn’t it feel weird wearing make-up?” Clay laughed.

“Yes. I definitely did not miss that.” Standing beside him, Adam smiled, and Clay noticed his shoulders relaxed as if he were relieved.

Clay elbowed him in the stomach lightly.

“You’re going to be taller than me before the summer is over, A-Man.” He grinned.

“Grandpa measured me a couple days ago.

Six foot.” He slid his hands into his pockets again.

“You need me to get out of here so you can do stuff?” “You can stay – if you want to.” Adam seemed to hesitate for a moment before he nodded.

“Okay. I’ll stay.” Ten Days Later Clay was laughing as he climbed the steps of the bus, Jerome behind him.

Amanda hadn’t seen him come out a rear door of the venue, but she had heard the eruption of the crowd.

After making sure Clay was safely inside and confirming their schedule for the next day, Jerome exited to go to the other bus, eliciting another, albeit smaller, eruption from the fans congregated outside the bus.

Amanda smiled as Clay flopped on the couch beside her.

He was smirking. “What’s with the face?” she asked, smoothing his hair with her fingers.

He had showered after the show, and his hair was sticking up haphazardly where he had let it dry naturally.

With a wink, he tossed a few folded pieces of paper on her lap.

Amanda shook her head, laughing.

“More propositions from your adoring fans?” she asked, reaching for one.

Over the weeks of the tour, some of his fans had begun trying to slip him notes when he stopped to shake hands before getting on the bus.

Most were proclamations of undying love, but a few were from woman who seemed to believe that he could be enticed by promises of seduction.

Reading them after Clay got on the bus each night had become a ritual – one Amanda and he usually laughed their way through. Clay sat up straighter and turned to face Amanda.

He grinned. “Let’s see what we got tonight.” Amanda unfolded one of the notes and read, “ Thank you so much for all you do, Clay!!

We love you and appreciate you!!

SO glad you’re touring again!!!

” She smiled. “And she has a bunch of Xs and Os at the bottom.

From Paulette.” “A nice one.” She nodded, unfolding another note and reading, “ Loved the show tonight.

You’re even hotter than you were before.

Stay sexy, Clay! ” Clay’s chuckle was deep in his throat.

“An even nicer one.” Amanda looked up at him and arched an eyebrow, smiling when Clay laughed.

“Rachel, by the way, is the one who wants you to stay sexy.” She tossed the note aside and winked.

“Although Amanda wouldn’t mind, either.” He smiled, clearing his throat before lowering his voice to say, “If I’m sexy at all, it’s because Amanda keeps me that way.” She laughed softly, feeling the familiar brush of his fingers over her skin as he draped his arm along the back of the couch and found her upper arm.

Clay smiled, noticing Amanda’s slight shiver and feeling it on her arm when he touched her.

With her head bent as she looked at the notes in her lap, her hair fell forward and partially obscured her face.

He could see her lips, curved with a small smile, as she unfolded another piece of paper.

She lifted her head to read the note and pushed her hair behind her ears with a quick slip of her fingers.

He could see the laughter in her expression before it bubbled from her lips.

He automatically smiled.

“I can’t read this one!” Grinning, he scooted closer and leaned forward to read it.

His eyes widened, and he reached for the note.

“Holy crap! Where do they get this stuff?” Laughing, he shook his head and then waved the note in Amanda’s direction.

“ We haven’t even done that.” His brow furrowed for a moment.

“Have we?” Amanda took the note from him, and Clay saw that her cheeks were tinted pink with a blush.

He inwardly laughed.

They might not have done what a very adventurous fan had suggested, but they had done enough that she was years past blushing.

The fact that she still did was one of the many reasons he loved her.

He slid his arm over her shoulders and kissed her cheek.

She laughed and looked at him.

“If we ever did that, I think I’d remember it.

And even if I didn’t, we’d probably have the police report to prove it because I think that’s illegal.” “And he looked right at me.

Like, right at me.

I thought I was going to die.

His eyes are just so gre—” “Ssssh!

Can you hear that?” a fan standing outside near the buses said, elbowing her friend. “Hear what?” “Laughing.

He just laughed.” “On the bus?” “Yeah.” She glanced at the darkly tinted windows of the bus.

“Wonder what he’s laughing at?” The other woman sighed.

“I wish I knew.” A while later, Clay tilted his head down to look at Amanda where she was curled against his side on the couch, their legs intertwined and her arm thrown over his stomach as they watched a movie.

He kissed her forehead, making her lashes flutter as she glanced up at him. He smiled.

“Didn’t know if you were still awake.” She rubbed her cheek against his chest.

“I am, but I’m having trouble keeping my eyes open.

You think you can sleep?” It still took a few hours for Clay to come down from the high of the show, and Amanda tried to stay up with him each night until he had unwound and could rest. He lifted the remote and switched off the TV.

“Yeah. I’m sleepy.” His side was immediately cold when Amanda sat up, and he made a mental note to find a more comfortable couch if he toured again;

They could fall asleep together without worrying about getting in the bed in the back.

When the sweet, lightly tropical scent of Amanda’s shampoo tickled his nose as he pulled her against him a few minutes later and breathed into her hair, Clay smiled.

“Thank God for getting to sleep in tomorrow.” She covered his hand with hers.

“What time are we meeting Quiana?” “She said a late lunch, so I’m guessing one.

Her sound check is at three.

She’s supposed to call me tomorrow morning.” He laughed.

“Hopefully she won’t call too early.” While Clay had stepped out of the limelight years before, Quiana had stepped into it.

Now one of the most successful artists in popular music, she was kicking off a U.S.

And Canadian tour in Atlanta the following night, and Clay had scheduled back-to-back shows starting the day after in the same city so he could be at her concert. Amanda yawned.

“You think she’ll ask you to come on stage and do the duet from her album?” “She hinted at it.

We’ll see what she says tomorrow.” “You want to do it?” she asked, lightly caressing his skin.

Each time he spoke, she felt the warmth of his breath against her hair. “It would be a thrill to perform for that many people again, even if it’s just for a song.” Quiana had sold out a huge, outdoor amphitheatre to kick-off her tour while Clay was reacquainting himself with smaller, mid-sized venues.

He smiled and brushed Amanda’s hair aside to nip her ear.

“Would make me feel like a real rock star.” Amanda slid her hand over his thigh behind her, her laugh throaty, if tired.

“Well, if you don’t sing with her, I’ll try to make you feel like a rock star tomorrow night after the concert.”

Chapter 13 The Next Day Amanda looked out the window from the backseat of their rented SUV as she half-listened to Clay on the phone.

The sky, which had been a bright blue earlier, was now a dull gray dotted with clouds.

Kevin, a member of Clay’s personal security, was driving them to the venue where Quiana would be performing, and he saw her studying the sky. “Looks like a soggy night for people with lawn seats, huh?” Kevin commented. Amanda nodded.

“That’s always the downside of an outdoor venue.

It’s great when the weather is clear but miserable when it turns bad.” “I know, Jerome,” Clay said beside her.

Amanda turned her head to look at him, smiling at the baseball cap covering his hair.

He would always look like the younger man she had first met when he wore a cap, the shadow it threw over his features softening any signs of age. When Clay had woken up with a slight tickle in his throat, he had decided against joining Quiana on stage that evening.

Since he wouldn’t be performing, they would watch the show from a secure spot offstage.

Because Jerome was far more conspicuous than other members of Clay’s security, he had stayed behind and let Kevin and Patrick accompany the two of them.

That didn’t stop him from calling Clay just before they arrived to remind him to be careful, however.

While Clay was sighing with a hint of frustration next to her, Amanda smiled at Jerome’s concern.

When Clay’s voice turned slightly harsh as he spoke to his friend, she slid her hand over his knee to get his attention.

When he looked at her, she mouthed, He’s just doing his job.

He worries about us . Clay stared at her for a moment before he nodded and softened his tone as a corner of his mouth lifted.

“I don’t know why you’re so worried.

Kevin and Patrick have spent a month with you – they’re well-trained.” Clay smiled at whatever Jerome said.

“I’m sure,” he said with a chuckle.

“Okay. Bye, Jerome.” He flipped his phone shut.

“I am to remind you that Kevin will be staying close to you and that you should let him do his job instead of letting me ‘call the shots’ and keep you ‘glued’ to my side.” He paused.

“Jerome’s words, not mine,” he said dryly. Amanda laughed.

“You hear that, Kev?” He smiled at her in the rearview mirror.

“Jerome told me the same thing before we left.” Any irritation Clay might have felt toward Jerome for implying that he didn’t know how to protect himself and his wife was tempered by the sound of Amanda’s giggle as she tickled his side lightly and leaned over to kiss his cheek when he frowned.

He smiled, shaking his head.

“Why you let Jerome boss you around, I’ll never understand.

You don’t do anything I say.” The shadow of Clay’s cap and the way his head was turned blocked any view Kevin and Patrick might have had of Amanda’s teeth grazing Clay’s ear an instant before she whispered, “I let you boss me around when it counts, Darlin.’” As she straightened on the seat, she smiled.

With the beginning blushes of arousal staining his cheeks, he looked even more like the Clay she had first met. Clay’s gaze flitted again to the over 20,000 fans that had turned out for the opening night of Quiana’s tour.

Amanda was beside him, and she glanced up after feeling his body tense next to her.

Clay felt her eyes on him and looked down. “What’s wrong?” she asked, seeing worry clouding his expression. He shook his head.

“Nothing.” Amanda frowned, knowing something was bothering him.

She, too, turned to look at the crowd from their spot on the left side of the stage.

A small area had been barricaded off so that they, along with other friends and members of Quiana’s family, could watch the show.

As it was nearing the end of the concert, many of the fans from the back had migrated to the front and were filling the aisles, allowing those with lawn seats to move under the pavilion roof and escape the rain.

What had been a light drizzle earlier was now a steady rhythm above their heads, and much of the crowd, even those with seats under the roof, was drenched from the storm. The rain had not, however, cooled the temperature, and Amanda silently cursed the humidity as she attempted to smooth her hair behind her ear.

Clay might like the fact that her hair was naturally curly, but right now it was a royal pain.

Between the dampness that seemed to seep into her skin, the sticky thickness of the air, and two hours of music, she could feel the beginnings of a headache.

She rubbed the back of her neck, sighing inwardly. Trying to push past the uncomfortable circumstances, Amanda returned her gaze to the stage, smiling at the sight of Quiana walking across the stage with her backup singers behind her.

It didn’t seem so long ago that she had been introduced to the other woman when she joined Clay’s band.

He had cracked a joke about her beating him at his first audition, Quiana had rolled her eyes, and Amanda had known they would get along just fine.

Seeing her now and knowing all she had accomplished, Amanda clapped loudly as the song ended. While Quiana was chatting with the audience before her next song, Amanda felt a hand on her elbow.

She looked up into Kevin’s dark brown eyes, and he flashed a quick smile that she knew was merely to put her at ease.

“They’re getting a little too close to the barricade for my liking.

Just move over a few feet,” he said, already moving her. Clay, hearing the other man, opened his mouth to agree.

The proximity of the growing crowd had distracted his attention for most of the second half of the show. “I love you, Clay!” someone shouted from several feet away.

Clay felt his face flush with embarrassment again.

It was Quiana’s night, and yet he had heard his own name screamed with increasing frequency as the concert had progressed.

His gaze darted to the now solid line of fans along the barricade.

They were leaning against it, many of their eyes trained on him as they continued to call out his name.

The baseline of Quiana’s next song thumped loudly as the music began, and he turned his head to speak to Patrick.

As much as he wanted to see Quiana’s big finish, he was ready to forsake it in order to get Amanda and himself backstage.

Before he could say anything, a loud clap of thunder made the floor beneath his feet tremble.

He jerked involuntarily when a sharp crack of lightening cut through the baseline, the rain, and everything else, and then the roar of the crowd drowned out the sound of the downpour as the barricade collapsed and he felt himself shoved by a sudden wash of people. Patrick’s strong grip wrapped itself around Clay’s arm as the other man attempted to pull him out of the teeming crowd now clamoring around them.

Clay instinctively reached for Amanda, but he felt the sweaty palm of a stranger before he jerked his hand away.

She wasn’t there.

Patrick was pulling harder on his arm, screaming at him.

Clay pulled in the opposite direction, his eyes frantically searching as the adrenaline coursing through his veins turned icy with fear. The humidity seemed to have become a very real, very dense fog, and Clay blinked rapidly, trying to see clearly.

Rain was coming in sheets just beyond the pavilion, the wind sending it splashing over the floor, the crowd, and everything in sight.

Clay’s feet slid on the now slick surface, Patrick catching him.

As he started to fall, his eyes locked with a woman inches from him.

Her own eyes, blue like Amanda’s, widened in what almost looked like terror an instant before she disappeared from his sight.

She fell. She was getting trampled.

As he tried to move out of the way to give the woman room, Clay slipped again, and when he righted himself, it wasn’t the solidness of the floor beneath his feet.

He had stepped on someone.

Someone else had fallen, and he was crushing them. In a panic, he scrambled backward.

The same thing could have happened to Amanda.

Kevin. She should be with Kevin.

His eyes jumped from person to person, even as they blurred into one massive haze.

He didn’t see Kevin.

And he didn’t want her with Kevin.

He needed her with him.

He needed to know she was okay.

It seemed like the crowd was closing in around him, hands grabbing from every direction.

Clay felt a hand sweep itself across his abdomen, felt the scrape of nails on his arms, felt Patrick pulling him backward, felt people smashing into him before they slid to the ground.

He knew the noise was deafening around them, but everything seemed to be muted.

He saw lips moving in what he knew were words, saw mouths open with what he knew were screams, but he only heard his own voice calling out her name louder and louder.

He knew he should get out of the crowd, should get away from the seeking touches and bodies smashed against his.

If he could just see the top of her head and know she was with Kevin;

If he could just see that she was safe.

But Patrick was stronger, and Clay stumbled as the other man, his arm now firmly wrapped around Clay's middle, practically dragged him through the waves of people that crashed against them with each step.

It was only when they were actually surrounded by silence, when they made it backstage, that Clay became aware that he was still screaming. “Where is she?!

Amanda!” He pulled free of Patrick and ran back to the door that had just closed behind them.

Patrick’s fist knotted in the back of Clay’s shirt and he jerked him backward. “You’re not going back out there!

Kevin is with her.

He wouldn’t have lost her,” he said, trying to reassure both Clay and himself.

The small microphone and earpiece Kevin and he had used to communicate with one another was hanging drunkenly down his back, and it fell to the floor with a smack as Clay pushed at his shoulders. “I have to go!

I don’t know where she is!” He reached for the door handle. “Damn it, Clay, you can’t!” Patrick shoved him away from the door and stood in front of it, his own chest heaving.

Clay’s gaze leveled on the other man with a sudden chilly calm. “Get out of the way.” “I’m not letting you back out there, Clay!” Clay’s hands balled at his sides.

He held himself tightly to keep from trembling at the anger, fear, and worry splintering inside him.

“Patrick, get the hell out of the way.

Now .” His bodyguard could still hear the crowd only a few feet from the door, and he shook his head.

Clay’s voice wavered as he spoke, his rigid control on his temper slipping.

“I’m going back out there – with or without you.

I don’t know where Amanda is.

I don’t know if she’s okay.

I don’t know if she’s with Kevin.

You can either help me or you can leave, but I am going.” “I’m fine, Clay,” Amanda said from behind him.

He whirled around, his eyes skipping over her and making sure she was okay as his body rushed toward her.

She was soaking wet, there was a hole in her jeans, and mud on her legs, but she was there.

She was okay. Clay’s arms closed around her with enough force to send them both stumbling backward, but Amanda’s shriek was muffled by his mouth as his lips found hers.

Kevin, who had been standing beside Amanda, crossed the floor to join Patrick by the door, and they both politely averted their eyes. Clay’s hands were trembling as they cradled Amanda’s face and he unknowingly smeared the dirt on her cheek.

He slid his hands down her back and over her hips.

She was there. She was okay.

She was safe. She was also shaking, her own touch seeking as she reassured herself that Clay was there, that he was okay, that he was safe.

Clay’s mouth slipped off Amanda’s for an instant.

“You’re okay, right?” he whispered, his fingers fluttering over her face.

“You’re okay?” “I’m fine.” Her arms tightened around him, her voice clogging with emotion.

“Are you okay? I didn’t know where you were.” Clay kissed her again, his lips painting hers with a mixture of love and relief.

“I’m fine. I’m fine now that you’re fine,” he said softly.

Her cheek against his chest, Amanda closed her eyes and let out a shaky breath as she felt the gentle pressure of Clay’s fingers lightly drifting over her hair.

Clay, his chin propped on top of her head, also let out the breath he had been holding and closed his eyes.

It was that moment Quiana hurried backstage and found them. “Oh my God!

One minute everything was fine;

Then there was this huge crack of lightning, and I looked over and y’all had been swarmed.” Her voice lifted with panic.

“Security is trying to clear the venue, and they’ve brought in medics.

I don’t even know what happened!” Amanda had turned around, still close to Clay’s side as he kept his arm around her, and Quiana’s gaze shot to her wet clothes and mud-streaked face.

“Amanda, are you okay?” She nodded.

“I’m fine. Is your family okay?” “They’re fine.

They were farther away from the crowd than the two of you, and they managed to get backstage quickly.” She exhaled in a rush, calming her nerves.

“What happened out there?” Amanda glanced at Clay before looking at Quiana again.

“When the barricade collapsed, the crowd separated us from Clay and Patrick, so Kevin and I had to go the long way around – not under the pavilion.

We were trying to run, and I fell.

It’s practically a mud hole out there.” “How did you rip your jeans?” Clay asked. Amanda looked down at her legs, unaware that she had torn her pants.

“I don’t know,” she answered, looking up at him in confusion. Kevin spoke from behind them, walking closer.

“When the crowd first surged, it knocked you down,” he said quietly, silently berating himself for letting her fall.

“You fell on the barricade – the metal probably ripped your jeans.” Amanda shook her head.

“I completely forgot that I fell then.” She took a deep breath, her eyes finding Clay’s and seeing worry in their green depths.

She attempted a smile.

“I guess I’m a little shaken up.

I’m fine, though.

Really.” Quiana looked between the two of them.

Knowing that seeing Amanda scraped and muddy was probably making the situation worse for Clay – and not making Amanda feel any better – she reached for the other woman’s hand.

“Here, I’ve got something you can put on.

Let’s get you out of those wet clothes and cleaned up.” Amanda readily agreed, and Clay watched her walk away with Quiana.

His shirt was now stuck to his abdomen and his jeans were adhered to his thighs where he had had Amanda pressed against him.

He put shaky hands on his hips, bending his head as he took a deep breath.

It was a moment before he lifted his gaze to Patrick’s.

“I’m sorry for yelling at you.” Patrick shook his head.

“Totally understandable, Clay.

Don’t worry about it.” He nodded and shifted his gaze to Kevin.

“Thank you.” He swallowed.

“Thank you for keeping her safe, Kevin.” The other man nodded in return, and Clay let silence hang for a beat before he cleared his throat.

“As soon as Amanda is ready, we’ll go.” He turned and walked down the hall where Quiana and Amanda had disappeared, the only sound the squeak of his shoes on the tile.

Chapter 14 Later that night The rain was coming down in torrents.

The air was too thick to breathe.

She couldn’t see.

She couldn’t hear.

A sharp turn. It was too sharp, and now the tires were skidding.

A scream. Shelby screaming.

Oh my God , Adam’s screaming, too.

Then everything hurtled forward.

The guardrail was coming closer.

Closer. Closer. The sound of metal crunching, crumbling, made her stomach lurch with sickness.

Glass shattering and glittering with droplets of water as it pricked arms, legs, faces.

Clay. His voice was far away.

Raw. Calling her name.

If she could just get to him, everything would be all right.

He would make it all right.

Why was he was crying?

Crawling toward him.

His voice was weaker.

His face was streaked with blood.

His eyes closed. No .

Tears streaming. No .

Shaking him. No .

Begging him. No .

Shaking him. No .

Screaming his name.

Screaming. Screaming.

Screaming. “ NO !” Amanda shot up in the bed, her entire body trembling.

Clay was awake. She felt him beside her, felt his fingers on her face, heard his voice, saw his eyes in the glimmer of light from the open bathroom.

He was there. She found his hand blindly as she continued to shake.

“No, no, no,” she repeated over and over.

The darkness outside the window was broken as lightning tore through the sky, and Amanda gripped Clay’s hand tighter, afraid she was still in that spinning car. Clay was on his knees on the bed, unsure what had happened.

He had been vaguely aware of Amanda sleeping restlessly, feeling her movements.

But when her scream had pierced the silence and she had jerked awake, he had nearly fallen out of the bed.

Her eyes were still wide and full of fear, seemingly unaware that he was there. “Amanda, Darlin’, what’s wrong?” Her hair was damp, and he brushed it off her forehead, touching his lips to her skin.

“Everything is okay, Sweetheart.

Everything is okay,” he whispered.

The nightmare was still holding her captive, and he struggled to pull her onto his lap.

Clay finally managed to get her in his arms, and he rubbed her back gently as he listened to her breathing slow and become more even.

“Everything is okay, Amanda.

I’m here. We’re okay,” he murmured, kissing her cheek gently.

In truth, he felt anything but okay, but he held her close as if he believed his own words. She clenched her eyes shut, taking a deep breath.

“I thought it really happened,” she said, her voice small.

Clay saw her lips tremble, and he felt helpless as a tear slipped over her lashes behind closed eyes. “What did you think happened, Sweetheart?

Tell me. I’m right here.

It’s okay.” She shivered in his arms.

“We were in the car.

With Adam and Shelby.

It was raining. You lost control, and we slammed into a guardrail.” Her voice broke.

“I could hear you, but I couldn’t see you.

And you were scared.” She felt Clay’s thumb wipe tears off her cheek.

“You were so scared.

And then…you…I found you…and…” She opened her eyes, needing to see him.

She swallowed. “I tried to…I was screaming for you not to go, but you…” She shook her head, unwilling to say the words.

Amanda saw her own hurt reflected in Clay’s eyes, and it broke the last sliver of her composure.

Turning her face into his shoulder, she knotted his t-shirt in her fingers as she shuddered.

“I was so scared today, Clay.

I didn’t know where you were.

Someone could have hurt you so easily.

So, so easily.” Clay didn’t have the words to comfort her.

All he had was his arms, around her, and his breath, warm against her hair, as they continued to rock.

The day had taken its toll on both of them.

While Amanda had been gripped in her nightmare, he had been staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep as the storm raged outside.

But the thunder that shook the walls and the lightning that split the sky were no match for the wrath of the storm inside his own mind.

He couldn't shake the feeling of being absolutely powerless as the events of the day played over again in his memory.

He hadn’t been able to stop the crowd surge;

He hadn’t been able to keep people from getting hurt.

Even as he held Amanda now, he could feel the sickening turn of his stomach when he had stepped on someone in the crowd.

He had hurt someone.

He had ruined Quiana’s show and hurt someone.

Rain splashed against the window angrily.

It seemed to seep into his soul. Clay took a deep breath, inhaling the light scent of Amanda’s hair, and tried to calm the riot inside him.

No one had been seriously hurt.

And the entire incident had only lasted a few minutes.

He swallowed. It had only been seconds that they had been separated, but the realization of what could have happened haunted him.

Still, he pressed his lips to Amanda’s temple and tried to allay his own worries to comfort her.

“Ssh. Patrick was with me just like Kevin was with you.” She lifted her head to look at him, her lashes stuck together wetly.

“Patrick and Kevin are just two men.

They’re no match for a whole crowd of people.” She looked past him for a moment, both of them thinking the same thing.

Amanda finally voiced it.

“What if the kids had been with us?” “They weren’t,” Clay said quickly.

“And I wouldn’t put them in that kind of situation.” He hoped his voice sounded more convincing than he felt.

He hoped she couldn't see his face. Amanda crawled off his lap, needing to move.

She stood beside the bed.

“What situation? This was something we might have done with the kids, Clay.

How many concerts have we been to with them over the last few years?

Dozens. And nothing has ever happened.” She lifted a hand, raking it through her hair.

“Until now,” she said, not looking at him. Clay scooted to the edge and stood.

“Today scared me, too.” She automatically stepped closer, her body molding to his as they both sought that small physical comfort and surety.

Clay felt her lips brush over the cotton covering his chest.

“I was terrified,” he whispered.

“But we’re okay. And we’ll be okay.

You know I’ll do everything in my power to keep us safe.” She nodded, her hair tickling his chin.

“I know.” Clay sighed, pulling her as close to him as possible.

More than anything, he wished he could crawl inside her skin at that moment.

He wanted to push all the fear away, to take its place.

He wanted to give her back the security he had stolen.

What the hell was I thinking dragging my wife away from a safe and loving home, hauling her around the country to tag along behind me while I try to relive some vain fantasy of youth?

What kind of selfish, twisted mind does that to their family? He tilted her head back to look into her eyes, using the tip of his finger to trace the arch of her eyebrows and skim over her lips.

“I just want to hold you so I can forget about those moments when I couldn’t.” He saw the love in her eyes before she closed them, expecting the kiss that he fully intended to give her.

As Clay bent his head, he paused.

The sheers on the window were closed, but the heavier drapes were open, bathing the room in a garish, steely gray each time lightning lit the sky.

When everything went dark again in a calm pause amidst the fury outside, a shadow fell over Amanda’s features.

Clay sucked in a breath, the moment crashing down on him.

She heard his sudden intake and opened her eyes. “Clay?” His nightmare hadn’t hid in the distant corners of sleep.

It had come to him fully awake.

He had, for an instant, feared that he had lost her that evening.

And it made him shake inwardly as he touched his lips to hers and parted them.

He needed to be inside her anyway he could.

He needed that now.

Maybe together they could push away the fear. He lifted her carefully but with a sense of urgency that Amanda felt in her bones as his fear mingled with his love, with his desire.

He laid her on the bed, their clothes making a soft, silent pile on the floor as skin met skin.

There was no room for fear between their lips, between their bodies.

Clay moved on top her, pushing, straining, trying to find his way into her warmth.

Instead, he was met with Amanda’s eyes, wide and full of unanswered questions, as she stared up at him.

When her hand slipped between them and found him there, limp, useless, he rolled off her with a strangled grunt.

Now he knew how it felt to be as impotent in bed as he felt out of it.

He was thoroughly disgusted with himself, and before he could see the same emotions reflected in Amanda’s eyes, he grabbed his boxers off the floor and stormed into the bathroom. Amanda’s shoulders jerked when the bathroom door shut with an angry snap.

She closed her eyes quickly, but not before she felt the wetness wiggle its way across her cheek and run into her ear.

What had just happened?

In her nightmare, it had felt as if her world had shattered along with the windows of the car.

Now, in her wakefulness, she felt the same way.

After the concert, after her nightmare, after the havoc that had been made of their emotions, she shouldn’t be lying in bed while Clay was in the bathroom.

Amanda reached for Clay’s t-shirt and pulled it over her head before she knocked on the bathroom door softly. “Sweetheart?” Clay, his hands braced wide on the vanity, inwardly groaned.

He couldn’t hide from her, he knew.

But he didn’t want to see her face, didn’t want to see her eyes, didn’t want to see the disappointment and pity that, in his mind, she had to be feeling.

He could hear another sudden clap of thunder through the door and could practically see Amanda jump and turn around to look out the window.

He imagined she would be scared, and he sighed as he straightened and turned the knob to open the door.

He couldn’t look her straight in the eye, so he met the top arc of darkened blue in her irises.

Amanda noticed, and the humiliation on his face created a real, physical ache in her center.

Stepping forward, she slid her arms around his waist and kissed his chest.

He was shocked – she could feel it in the way he hesitated before wrapping his arms around her.

When she felt and heard him sigh, she said, “It happens, Clay.” He winced.

“But it's never happened to me ,” he said with some difficulty. “It doesn’t mean anything.” She tilted her head back, waiting until his gaze moved past the top of her eyes and he really looked at her.

“Okay? It doesn’t mean anything.

I love you.” She kissed his jaw.

“This is nothing to worry about.” The hair on his chest was soft beneath her cheek as she moved a few millimeters closer.

“We’ve both had a rough day.

It’s understandable.” Clay shook his head, feeling as if he wanted to crawl out of himself.

He pushed her away with all the gentleness he could manage.

“No. No, it’s not understandable.” He had heard the words she said, he believed her when she said she loved him, and he appreciated her trying to make him feel better.

But the fact remained that he had failed.

Something was wrong with him.

The one thing that, as a man, only he could give her, he hadn’t been capable of.

His wife needed him to comfort her both physically and emotionally, and he couldn’t do it.

Just like he hadn’t been able to protect her earlier that evening.

I can't even protect myself - I couldn't keep that drunken fan from hiding in my dressing room .

Inwardly strangled by the direction of his thoughts, Clay walked out of the bedroom. Amanda didn’t know if she had ever felt more awkward as she watched her husband walk away from her at that moment.

It had only been minutes since she had felt his mouth on her breasts, his fingers between her legs, and she was acutely aware of the fact that a part of her was still humming with the expectation of making love with him.

Although she was alone in the bedroom, she was thankful for the darkness that hid the shame staining her cheeks.

He was right. It had never happened before.

And she had been the one to have nightmare just before they tried to make love.

She had been upset.

She had been the one voicing her doubts and fears about what was happening to their lives.

When a flash of lighting lit the sky and the bedroom, she wrapped her arms around herself to ward off a sudden chill.

Had the weather caused the coldness, she might have found warmth in the movement. Making herself leave the bedroom, she stopped just inside the living room of their suite to stare at Clay as he sat on the couch.

His knees were spread wide, his forearms propped on his thighs as his head was bent.

The room was momentarily brightened by lightning, illuminating the hard line of his jaw.

“Clay?” Clay heard the soft plea in her voice, but he couldn’t give her what she wanted at that moment.

He couldn’t talk about it.

“Not now, Amanda.” The muscles in his back tensed.

“Please not now,” he whispered. Amanda swallowed, feeling powerless.

She could always comfort him, console him – except when he was embarrassed.

It was only then that he withdrew from her and put up a wall between them.

And after seventeen years, she still hadn’t figured out a way to convince him that he didn’t have to hide from her in those moments.

She crossed the room and sat beside him.

“Clay, I just wan—” He turned his head to lock his eyes with hers.

“ Not now, Amanda.” “But I thin—” “ Please !” She put her hand on his knee and opened her mouth to speak, Clay jumping up and cutting off anything she might have said.

“Yes, I know we should talk about this, and I know you love me, and I know that this happens.

But I didn’t expect it to happen to me .

And I’m sorry if I’m being rude or irrational right now, but I do not want to talk about this.

We’ll go back to bed and go back to sleep and not talk about it.

Okay?” Before she could answer, there was a sudden noise in the bedroom.

Clay’s cell phone was ringing.

At four in the morning.

Amanda’s eyes widened, and Clay’s face paled as they both hurried into the other room and he grabbed his phone.

He looked at Amanda.

“It’s Mom.” She automatically wrapped her arms around herself as he flipped his phone open.

“Hello?” “Clay, it’s Adam.

He’s gone.” “Gone?

What do you mean?” Faye’s voice trembled as she said, “He ran away.”

Chapter 15 Three hours earlier Shelby flipped on the light in Faye’s laundry room.

When she did, Adam stumbled and whirled around, knocking himself into the washing machine.

“Dang it, Shelby!

You scared the crap outta me!” he said, somehow remembering to keep his voice low. She put her hands on her hips.

“I heard a noise.

What are you doing?” Adam pulled the strap of his duffel bag higher on his shoulder.

In addition to the bag, he was also wearing his backpack.

“None of your business.

Go back to bed.” He glared at her.

“And don’t you dare wake up Nana.” Her hair was in a high ponytail;

It swung as she leaned forward to grab the handle on his backpack when he reached for the doorknob.

“It’s the middle of the night, Adam.

And why shouldn’t I wake up Nana?” She frowned.

“Where are you going?” His expression was irritated.

“Look, Shelby, I don’t have the time to stand here and talk to you.

Just go back to bed.” “Adam, tell me,” she pleaded. He stared at her in silence, finally sighing.

“If I don’t tell you, then you don’t have to lie to Nana or anyone else.

So just let me go, okay?” Shelby tilted her head to the side, studying her brother.

“Are you running away?” she asked. For once, Adam didn’t hear nosiness in her voice.

“Yeah,” he answered after a moment. Her eyes widened.

“You are ? That’s dangerous!” Adam waved his hands, shushing her.

“Keep your voice down!” “Okay, but it is dangerous,” she whispered.

“Mom and Dad will kill you!

You’ll be grounded for, like, ever .” He shrugged.

“Maybe.” “You don’t care?” He looked away from her, smacking his hand against the doorframe in a light rhythm.

“At least they won’t treat me like a baby anymore.” Shelby lifted herself onto the washer, crossing her legs.

“They don’t treat you like a baby.” Adam laughed bitterly.

“Yeah, right. They wouldn’t let me go on tour with them.” He frowned.

“I mean, I can understand why you couldn’t go, but I’ll be fifteen in a week .

I should have been allowed to go.” He adjusted his backpack.

“They think I’m still five-years-old and can’t take care of myself.

Well, I’ll show them that I can .” She was quiet for a few seconds, her blue-eyed gaze resting on her brother.

“I think they know you can, Adam.

They trust you more than they’ll probably ever trust me.” She smiled.

“I bet you got to do a lot more when you were ten than I get to do.” She waved her hands around her head, making a face.

“They think I’m wacky.” He laughed softly, but he didn’t say anything, surprised that Shelby would be so sincere.

Her broad smile faded slowly, and she picked at the edge of her shorts when she asked.

“Where are you going?” “Atlanta.

Dad has a show there tonight and tomorrow night.” She nodded.

“How are you getting there?” “Mitch’s brother is driving me to the bus station.

I’ll take a cab from the bus station to the venue when I get there.

I’m walking to Mitch’s house.” She looked down at her lap in silence.

When she looked up, it was to ask, “You have money?” “I have what Mom and Dad left us.” “That’s all?” He nodded.

“It’ll be enough.” She shook her head and hopped off the washer, jogging out of the room.

Adam watched her make her way through the living room and up the stairs.

She traced the same path a few seconds later, an envelope in her hand.

When she stopped, she unzipped a pocket on his backpack and stuffed the envelope in it.

“What’s that?” Shelby stepped back, smiling.

“I’ll just buy something that Dad will say I can’t wear.

You take it.” Adam shook his head.

“I don’t want your money, Shelby.” He reached behind him to unzip the pocket, and she smacked his hand away. “Adults accept money from friends, too, Adam.” He sighed, but a corner of his mouth lifted.

“Fine.” He checked his watch.

“I gotta go. My bus leaves at two.” He turned the knob of the back door and looked at Shelby.

“Promise me you won’t tell?” “I promise,” she said softly.

When he paused at the door, she hesitated for a second before throwing her arms around him in a quick hug.

It knocked Adam backward a step, but he smiled as he hugged her. “Go back to bed, okay?” he said when she stepped away. “I will.

Be careful.” He pulled his baseball cap lower over his eyes.

“I will. See ya, Shel.” He stepped off the small porch, and Shelby watched him cut across the yard before he disappeared into the darkness of the night.

Careful not to make a sound, she made her way back to her bedroom and crawled between the sheets.

Rolling onto her side, she stared at the neon numbers on the clock beside the bed until they showed two a.m. “He ran away?” Clay asked, his eyes meeting Amanda’s.

She covered her mouth, watching Clay’s face as he listened to his mother. “I woke up, and on my way downstairs, I passed his bedroom and noticed that his door was open.

I was just going to check on him.

He always has his door shut, and I thought he might have been up sick or something.

And his bed was made.

He’s gone.” Her voice shook.

“I should have heard him.

I should have heard him get up.

Why didn’t I hear him get up?” Clay could hear her pacing. Clay’s heart seemed to be pounding all over his body.

He could see the beginnings of panic on Amanda’s face, and he reached for hand, hoping that trying to calm her would calm him, as well.

“Did he leave a note?

Are you sure he ran away?” She sniffled.

“No, there’s no note.

Shelby said he ran away.” “Shelby?

Shelby knows where he is?” “I don’t know.

She won’t say anything other than he ran away.

I think she promi—” “Put her on the phone,” Clay interrupted.

While Faye handed the phone to her granddaughter, Clay squeezed Amanda’s hand.

“Shelby knows something.

Maybe he’s just at a friend’s house.” Amanda shook her head, feeling as if someone had just punched her in the stomach.

“He’s still mad at us.” “We don’t know that, Amanda.

He seemed better when they were at the show.

I think he was getting ov—Shelby!” he said, hearing her take the phone. “I can’t say anything, Dad,” she said, fidgeting as she stood in the kitchen. “Shelby Grace, this isn’t the time to keep stuff from us.

Where’s your brother?” “I promised him, Dad!” “We need to know where he is, Shelby.” “But I prom—” “I know, Sweetheart.

I know he probably asked you not to say anything, but this is a situation where it’s okay to break that promise if it means making sure your brother is safe.” “But he’ll get in trouble, won’t he?” “That’s not important right now, Shelby.

We just need to know where he is so we can make sure he’s okay.” Shelby looked at her grandmother as the older woman dabbed her eyes with a tissue and shook her head.

As soon as she had discovered that Adam was gone, she had started crying, and she kept saying that it was all her fault.

“He’ll get mad at me, Dad,” she said finally. Clay sighed, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

Each second that ticked by without him knowing where Adam was or how they were going to be able to get to him was pushing him closer toward complete panic.

“He shouldn’t, Shelby.

He’ll probably realize that you did the right thing by telling us.” “I don’t know,” she said, biting her lip. “Tell her we don’t want to know so that we can punish him.

Tell her we’re just worried about him.” Amanda said from beside him.

She had wrapped her arms around herself again, and her face was almost white. “We’re not asking so we can punish him, Shelby.” He glanced at Amanda.

“We’re just worried about him.

And scared. If you know that he’s okay, please tell us.” Clay waited in agony while he listened to his daughter’s soft breathing.

When she sighed, he wrapped his arm around Amanda’s shoulders. “He was going to the bus station.

He’s on his way to Atlanta for your show tomorrow.” “Do you know what time his bus was supposed to leave?” Clay asked, already reaching for the hotel phone to call Jerome.

If they could get in touch with the terminal in Raleigh, they could stop them from letting Adam on the bus. “Two.” Clay closed his eyes, helplessness gripping him.

“Do you know anything else?” Her voice was sad.

“He got a ride to the bus station from his friend Mitch’s brother.

And he said he was gonna take a cab to the venue tomorrow.

What are you gonna do?” “I don’t know right now, Shelby.

Is that all he told you?

Did he tell you why he was running away?” “No.

Just that maybe you and Mom wouldn’t treat him like a baby anymore.” His heart fell to his feet.

It felt like someone had drop-kicked him.

Amanda’s eyes were full of questions, but he shook his head.

“That’s all he said, Sweetheart?” “Yeah.” She shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

“Am I in trouble for letting him go?” Clay sighed.

“No, you’re not in trouble.

It’s not your job to take care of your brother.

And you did the right thing by telling us.” “Will he be okay, Dad?” she asked softly. “He’ll be fine, Sweetheart,” he said, hoping his daughter believed him more than he believed himself.

“Put Nana back on the phone, and get back to bed, Shelby Girl.

Okay?” Beside him, Amanda indicated that she wanted the phone.

“Hang on. Your mom wants to talk to you.” “Shelby?” “I told Dad everything I know, Mom.

I swear.” Amanda managed a small smile.

“I know you did, Sweetie.

I just wanted to tell you that I love you,” she said softly.

Clay put his arm around her again as she used one hand to wipe away tears.

“We love Adam and you both very much.” Shelby felt a tickle in her throat.

“I love you guys, too.

And Adam does. He’s just mad becau—” “We know, Sweetheart.

We know. Now do what your dad said and go back to bed.

We’ll call you later.” “Okay.

Tell Dad I love him.” Amanda glanced at Clay.

“You can tell him.” After she handed the phone back to Clay, she walked into the bathroom, picking up clothes off the floor on her way. “What is it, Shelby?” Clay asked. “I just…I just wanted to tell you that I love you.” Clay’s eyes stung as he swallowed.

“I love you, too.” When he heard her hand the phone back to Faye, he cleared his throat. “I should have heard him get up, Clayton.

I should have heard him.

I don’t know why I didn’t.” “Don’t beat yourself up, Mom.

I’m sure he didn’t make a lot of noise to make sure you didn’t hear him.

He could have just as easily done this at home with Amanda and me there.” “What are you going to do?

If he left at two, there’s no telling where he is now.” Her voice clogged.

“All by himself on some bus!” “As soon as I know that Shelby and you are both going back to bed, we’ll wake up Jerome.

We’ll take care of this, Mom.

Don’t worry.” “You’ll call me as soon as you know something?” “We’ll call.

Now get some sleep.

We love you.” As he flipped his phone shut a moment later, Clay looked up to see Amanda walk out of the bathroom in a pair of jeans and t-shirt, her hair pulled into a quick ponytail.

Their eyes met for a beat of silence before she stepped into his embrace and felt his arms lock around her.

“He’s on his way here.

His bus left at two,” he said against her temple.

“He said maybe we wouldn’t treat him like a baby anymore if he did this.” Amanda held Clay even tighter, using his body to push the panic away.

“We’ll call the bus station.

We’ll figure out where they make stops, and we’ll go get him.” Clay shook his head.

“No.” Amanda pulled back abruptly.

“What?” “We’re not going to get him.” She put her hands on her hips.

“You better have lost your mind.

That’s the only way I’m going to believe that you’re actually saying that we’re going to let our fourteen-year-old son take a bus to Atlanta by himself.” Clay sat on the side of the bed, raking a hand through the side of his hair.

“Just hear me out, okay?” She stared at him.

“Explain. Quickly .” “You heard why he said he was doing this.

He thinks we’re treating him like a baby.

He’s trying to prove himself.

If we step in and drag him off the bus by his hair like he is a child, he’ll just do this again.

Or he’ll do something even more dangerous.

We have to let him do this.” “You’re not serious,” she said, her expression incredulous. “I am.” “He’s fourteen!” Clay nodded.

“I know that. And he’s more mature than I was at his age.

He won’t do anything stupid.” “He already did!

He ran away!” She reached for the phone on the nightstand.

“I hope Jerome has more sense than you do.” Clay took the phone out of her hand, aware that she looked stunned, and put it back on the receiver.

“You and I are going to work this out before we get Jerome involved.” “You and I are clearly not on the same page, Clay.

Why aren’t you worried?” “I am, Amanda,” he said, leveling his gaze on her.

“I’m terrified. I’m torturing myself with all the horrible things that could go wrong and all the things that could happen to him.

I told Mom and Shelby to go back to sleep, but I will not be going back to sleep tonight.

And I will not be doing anything until Adam gets here safely.

But beyond making sure that he does get here safely, I am not going to treat him like a child who can’t take care of himself.” Amanda stared up at him.

She heard what he was saying, and the rational part of her knew that he was right.

But another part of her, the part of her that could still clearly see Adam’s big, bright eyes as he looked at her for the first time when the doctor laid him on her chest, was screaming at her that she was letting her son put himself in danger.

“But, Clay…I…” Her hand shook as she lifted it to wipe her eyes.

“I…I’m his mother, and if I let him…” She swallowed.

“He could get hurt.” The pain Clay saw in Amanda’s eyes, he felt in his chest.

He pulled her close again, his lips against her hair.

“I know, Sweetheart.

I know.” He felt the warmth of her fingers on his back, and he kissed her temple.

“Just trust me. And trust Adam.” Amanda’s voice was thick with tears.

“I don’t trust either of you right now.” “Sweetheart,” Clay whispered. She shook her head, her cheek rubbing against his chest.

“I know what you said makes sense.

I know that. But I want him here.

I want to know he’s okay.

Now . Not later after he’s ‘proven’ himself.” “Will you let me do what I think is right?” “I want Adam here, Clay.

Period. Just get him here.”

Chapter 16 Later That Day “Why isn’t he here yet?” Amanda asked, crossing her arms as she stood backstage at the venue where Clay would be performing that night. Clay answered from his spot beside her.

“His bus didn’t get here until two And then—” “I know when his bus got here, Clay,” she interrupted.

“I did not ask that.

I asked you why he wasn’t here.” Clay reached up to massage his temples.

He knew Amanda was on edge;

He was on edge with her.

But since he had hung up with his mom the night before, nearly every sentence that had passed between them had carried the threat of an argument.

“I was trying to answer you,” he said slowly.

“I was just going to say that he’s probably sitting in traffic.” Amanda didn’t say anything for a moment, finally sighing and turning around to sit on a couch nearby.

Clay turned around to look at her, watching her lean forward and put her face in her hands.

When she dropped her hands, she lifted her eyes to his.

“I’m sorry.” A corner of his mouth lifted slightly.

“I’m not taking it personally.” She shook her head.

“I can’t stand this waiting.

Mike is supposed to call when they get here, right?” In order to make sure Adam arrived safely, they had arranged for a member of security to be waiting at the bus station when Adam arrived.

When Adam left in a cab, Mike was supposed to follow at a distance.

It had been nearly a half an hour since Mike had called them to let them know Adam got off the bus and he would be watching him. “Yes.” Clay sat beside her, resting his arm on the back of the couch.

Amanda scooted closer to him, laying her head on his shoulder, and he kissed the top of her head lightly.

Her soft sigh made him look down, and he noticed the faint blue half-moons under her eyes.

He hadn’t looked in a mirror in a while, but he would guess that his own eyes looked similar.

At some point that morning, he had tried to get her to sleep even though he knew she wouldn’t.

Trying to ease the tension they were both feeling, he joked, “I hope I don’t fall asleep on stage.” She smiled.

“I’m already fantasizing about crawling into bed tonight.” Clay’s laugh was forced, her mention of crawling into bed reminding him of the disastrous night before.

He would never, ever, have wished for their scare with Adam, but it had, if nothing else, distracted them both from the fact that he hadn’t been able to make love to her.

Clay felt his face redden, even the tips of his ears burning, as his mind replayed the look on Amanda’s face when she had touched him.

It had all seemed to happen so fast, he couldn’t warn her.

And what would you have said?

He silently asked himself.

Sorry, Sweetheart, I can’t do this tonight.

No, I don’t have a headache.

I just can’t get it up.

He grimaced. The sudden ring of his cell phone broke into his thoughts, and Clay welcomed the distraction. “It’s Mike,” he said, and they both stood as he answered, anticipating seeing their son within minutes.

“Mike? Is he here?” “God, Clay, I’m sorry.

I lost him.” “You what ?” he asked, his voice verging on a shout.

Amanda immediately tensed, trying to read his expression for clues. “I don’t know what happened.

When he got off the bus, he bought some food out of vending machine and hung around outside the station until he flagged down a cab.

I was only two car lengths behind him, but I…I don’t know.

I thought I was still tailing him, but the cab I thought he was in just passed the turn-off for the venue.” Clay swore, raking a hand through his hair as he paced.

“So you’re telling me you have no clue where my son is, Mike?

Is that what you’re saying?” His tone was biting, and Amanda, now understanding, wrapped her arms around herself as she felt herself shaking.

Whether the trembling was from worry or anger, she wasn’t sure;

Both were rioting inside her. “I can try to retrace the route and find out if he stopped.” “It’s too damn late now, Mike.” “What do you want me to do?” “Nothing, Mike.

Do whatever you want.” He shut his phone with a snap, and using the palm of his hand, he shoved a door open and yelled for Jerome.

He had been waiting outside the venue, ready to go meet Adam when the younger man would no doubt ask him to be called. “What’s going on?

Is he here?” Jerome asked. Clay shook his head, not trusting himself to speak.

The hours of worry had tested his nerves to their limit, and his temper was close to exploding.

“No,” he finally managed.

“He’s not.” “Where is he?

Did Mike call?” “Oh, he called.

He lost him.” “Lost him?” Jerome’s brow furrowed.

“Mike lost Adam at the bus station?” He snapped.

“No, he lost him in traffic !

Adam is somewhere in the city, and I don’t have a damn clue where he is!” Before Jerome could answer, the door behind Clay swung open again, and Amanda walked past him toward the stairs.

“Where in the hell are you going?” Clay asked, his self-control in shreds. Amanda whirled around, her hair falling over her shoulder.

“I trusted you, Clay.” Her eyes glistened with tears.

“I trusted you to get him here.

You promised me! I didn’t want to do it this way.

Well, I’m finished doing things your way.

I’m going to get my son.” She stomped down the steps. “You don’t know where he is!” he yelled, following her down the steps.

Jerome, wisely, stepped out of the way.

“Amanda, stop!” Catching up to her, Clay reached out to grab her arm, and they faced each other in the back loading zone of the venue.

“You can’t just storm out of here and go off with some half-cocked idea of finding him in the middle of Atlanta.

You don’t know were he is.” She pulled her arm free.

“He sure as hell isn’t here, Clay!

I know that much.” Her voice shook.

“If we had gone to get him, this wouldn’t be happening.

But this is what you wanted – what you wanted.

You wanted him to be able to prove to us that he’s an adult.

Well, congratulations, Clay,” she said in a voice laced with bitterness.

“Our fourteen-year-old, adult son has disappeared in downtown Atlanta.” She swallowed.

“People know who he is - they know he’s a celebrity's son.

What if someone recognized him and kidnapped him?” Clay had the same fear, but he didn’t admit.

“That’s a worst-case scenario.

There’s no reason to think that happened.” “But we don’t know , Clay!

We don’t know where he is or how to get to him or what happened to him.” “So you’re going to do what?

Walk up and down the streets downtown screaming his name?” “If that’s what it takes!” He held her by both shoulders.

“Well, I’m not going to let you, Amanda.

You hear me?” he asked in a clogged voice.

“I’m not letting you.

I’m not taking the chance of having you disappear, too.” Guilt was wrapping itself around him, tightening with every passing second.

He had made everything worse.

Adam was lost somewhere in the city instead of with them.

Amanda was losing her battle to keep from crying even as she shook with anger.

Hurt and fear and worry were filling up the space inside him where his anger was quickly fading.

Because of him, his family had been thrown into turmoil once more.

“You’re not going,” he said in a choked whisper. “Yes, I am!” she said through tears.

“I have to!” Clay shook his head and took his hands off her, turning until his eyes focused on Jerome.

“I’ll go.” Jerome had been glad to hear Clay tell Amanda that she wasn’t going to scour the streets for Adam.

But he had hoped Clay would realize that he wasn’t going to do it, either.

He shook his head.

“No one is going.” When they both stared at him, he continued, “Adam told Shelby he was coming here.

Give him a chance to do that.

And it won’t do any good to have everyone going in different directions right now.

We’ll stay here, we’ll wait a while longer, and if Adam doesn’t show up, we’ll take some kind of action.

All this situation needs is the two of you running up and down the streets in a panic.” He nodded toward Clay.

“Especially you.” “You’re saying wait – again?

Wait like I’ve been waiting for hours?

Wait until it’s too late to find him?” Amanda asked, her eyes tired and wild at the same time. Jerome stepped closer, putting his hand on her shoulder.

“I’m saying give Adam a chance to take care of himself for just a little bit longer.

Just because Mike lost him doesn’t mean he’s really lost .” Amanda crossed her arms over her chest, shaking her head.

“I have to do something.” She looked at Clay.

“Try his cell phone again.

If he got lost, he might have turned it on.

We have to do something .” The sound of the metallic shake of a chain-link fence and the crunch of gravel beneath feet was drowned out by her voice. Jerome started to speak, his jaw going slack as he looked at something over Amanda and Clay’s heads.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” he said softly. Clay, feeling a catch in his chest, turned as Amanda did the same.

As they watched Adam casually walk toward them, time seemed to stop moving.

Then it was as if they were jolted awake, and the next thing Clay remembered was standing in the middle of the loading zone with his arms around both his wife and son.

Amanda was crying, he felt his own eyes stinging, and Adam wore a confused expression as his parents became stuttering messes.

Over his mom’s shoulder, he asked Jerome a silent question. With a small chuckle, his own shoulders sagging with relief, Jerome said, “You’re on your own now, Kid.”

Chapter 17 “He’s right here, Mom.

And he wants to say something to you.” Clay held the phone out toward Adam, watching the teenager hesitate as he reached for it.

With a sigh, Adam lifted the phone to his ear. “Hi, Nana.” He automatically winced as Amanda and Clay heard Faye’s voice from a few feet away.

After the shock of seeing him had worn off and the relief of knowing he was okay had somewhat abated, the three of them had gone to the bus to talk.

Clay was just as eager as Amanda to find out why Adam had run away and to inform him that he was grounded until he was thirty-five, but he had taken the time to put his mother at ease and let Adam apologize for scaring her. His hips leaned against a counter, Clay crossed his arms as he stared at his son.

He smiled faintly, listening to Adam try to dig himself out of trouble with his grandmother.

He elbowed Amanda lightly, making her gaze shift from Adam to his own eyes.

“If I had done that when I was his age, I’d still be grounded.” He laughed.

“I’d still be writing, ‘ I will not run away ’ over and over again.” Amanda lifted her eyebrows.

“You say that like it’s extreme.” She tilted her head toward their son.

“He’s old enough to know better.

I could better understand Shelby running away.” Clay shook his head.

“I have no doubt that he knew better when he did it.

It wasn’t a fit of immaturity on his part.” “Well, it wasn’t a very adult decision,” she mumbled.

Before Clay could respond, Adam flipped the phone shut.

He stood and handed it to Clay, the latter slipping it into his pocket, before sitting back down on the couch.

Adam looked between his parents, wondering how they had decided to play the situation.

He expected his mom to do most of the talking, and Amanda didn’t disappoint, addressing him first.

“Rather than tell you what we think you did wrong, why don’t you tell us?” Adam crossed his arms and tilted his head down far enough that his baseball cap hid his eyes.

Amanda looked at Clay briefly before speaking again.

“Adam?” He shifted on the couch, propping his ankle on the opposite knee, but he remained silent. Staring at her son, the time Amanda had spent not knowing where he was seemed like days instead of hours.

It had only been minutes since she had been terrified, thinking he was lost or kidnapped.

She was still scared, the emotions lingering, and he was sitting on the couch with his arms crossed, acting like he was being unfairly punished.

Of all the things to inherit from his father, he had to get Clay’s stubbornness and idiotic pride.

Feeling the last frayed thread of her nerves snap, she stepped forward and pulled his baseball cap off, tossing it aside.

Adam automatically ran a hand through his hair, a guilty flush staining his cheeks as he quickly glanced at his mom.

Amanda put her hands on her hips.

“Do you have any idea how much you scared your grandmother?

Or how much you scared your dad and me?

Do you have even the slightest clue as to what could have happened to you?

You could have been hurt or killed!

You could have been kidnapped!” She felt Clay’s hand on her back, but she ignored him, watching Adam try to sink into the space between the cushions.

“I thought we raised you better than this, Adam.

I know we did. What were you thinking?

Or were you thinking at all ?

Did you think about how you could get hurt?

Did you think about how this would hurt us ?

Did you even care that we would be scared to death?” She stopped – not because she was finished, but for the tears blinding her and the trembling that was making it difficult to speak. Clay put his arm around Amanda, feeling his shirt dampen when she turned her face against his chest.

Over her head, he stared at Adam until the younger man lifted guilty eyes to his.

Somehow, Clay knew what he wanted, but Adam was going to have to speak for himself.

He nodded imperceptibly. Adam cleared his throat.

“I’m…I’m sorry, Mom.” He swallowed.

“I’m really sorry for scaring you and Dad and Nana.” Amanda had turned to look at him, and he shifted on the couch again, straightening.

“Could I talk to Dad about this?” He looked between his parents quickly.

“Alone?” Amanda felt Clay’s fingers flex on her back.

She met Clay’s eyes, seeing his silent request that she leave the two of them.

His expression was apologetic but uncompromising.

He thought Adam and he should talk alone.

Swallowing, she moved away from the comfort of his body and nodded at Adam after a beat.

“If that’s what you want, Adam.” Telling herself not be hurt even as she was, she turned and left the bus.

Jerome was standing a few yards away, and he slipped an arm over her shoulders as he walked her back to the venue.

Clay bent at the waist to look out the window and watch the two of them until they were inside.

Straightening, he turned to Adam. “You want me to sit or stand?” Adam shrugged.

“Doesn’t matter.” Clay crossed the width of the bus and sat down on the couch beside Adam.

Leaning forward, he braced his arms on his knees and turned his head to look at his son.

“Why did you want to talk to me alone?

Your mom deserves to know why you did this, too.” “I know.” He cleared his throat.

“And I’ll tell her.

But I wanted to talk to you first.” “Okay.

I’m listening.” Adam fidgeted with a pocket on his shorts for a moment before copying his dad’s pose.

Instead of turning his head to meet Clay’s eyes, however, he stared at the floor.

“I was mad.” “Are you mad now?” “Not in the same way.” Clay nodded.

“You were mad, and running away seemed like a way to deal with your anger?” Adam shook his head.

“I wasn’t dealing with it.

I was just acting on it.” Clay hid his amazement.

At fourteen, would he have been as honest?

He doubted it. “I thought that running away would show people that I wasn’t a baby.” “We don’t think you’re a baby, Adam.” A corner of his mouth lifted as he turned identical eyes toward his father.

“Yeah. That’s why y’all freaked out when I ran away and traveled by myself.” Clay stared at his son for a moment.

“You remember when your mom went to that conference last year?” Adam nodded.

“She and one of her friends drove to New York to make a small vacation out of it.

They left just before I went to work that morning.” Adam frowned.

“Yeah. So?” “ So , I didn’t get anything done at work that day.

I kept worrying about her being on the road.” He shook his head, smiling.

“I must have called her ten times.” Meeting Adam’s gaze again, he said, “And even though she tells me otherwise, I know your mother doesn’t sleep when I’m on a red-eye flight to or from L.A.

When I have business there.” “What does that have to do with me?” “It means that just because we worry about you and just because we ‘freaked out’ last night and today – that doesn’t mean we think you’re a baby.

It means we love you.

And we want you to be safe.” “You weren’t more upset about me than Mom when she travels?” Clay laughed softly.

“Yes, we were more upset than we would be for each other.

When you’re a father, you’ll understand that.” His eyes passed over Adam’s face.

“We’re going to worry about you no matter how old you are or what you do, Adam.

But hopping on a bus at two in the morning without telling anyone and shutting off your phone so no one can contact you – that’s not acting like an adult.” “Shelby couldn’t have done it,” he said defensively.

“Most of the guys at school couldn’t have done it.” Clay studied his face.

“Okay. So you did something none of your friends could do.

What did you prove?” “That I’m not a baby or a wuss,” he said softly, staring at the floor again. Clay’s brow furrowed.

“A wuss?” He shrugged.

“Sorta.” “You think your mom and I think you’re a wuss?” “No.” Watching Adam in silence, Clay sensed a new uneasiness in his son.

It was familiar. He swallowed.

“Someone thinks you’re a wuss?” Adam nodded.

“Kyle.” Clay inwardly tensed.

“What happened?” Sighing, the younger man leaned back against the couch.

“There’s not much to do at Nana’s house.” His gaze flitted to his father’s.

“I mean, I love Nana, but Shelby can do more stuff with her than I can.

So I was going to the Y during the day.” He cleared his throat.

“Banks D. Kerr has pickup games during the summer, you know?” Clay nodded.

“Well, most of the guys from school were there, so Kyle was there.

And he just kept harassing me.” He looked at Clay.

“I tried to ignore him like you said, Dad.

I really did. I wouldn’t even act like I heard him.” Adam shifted on the cushion.

“But he wouldn’t lay off me – mouthing stuff about you.” He fingered the pocket on his shorts again.

“We were in the locker room one afternoon, and he made some crack about you and said he didn’t know if he was safe turning his back in the shower with me around.” Adam reddened as he spoke, and Clay’s stomach dropped.

“I just lost it. I threw the first punch.

I know I shouldn’t have hit him, Dad, but ignoring him just wasn’t working.

And he shouldn’t talk about people like that.” He sighed, unable to gauge Clay’s reaction from the set of his jaw in profile.

“Doug pulled me off of him, but not before Richard heard the commotion from outside,” he said, referring to the director.

“I begged him not to call Nana or you.

I told Nana I got elbowed during the game when she asked about my black eye, and I started going at different times to avoid Kyle.” “But?” Clay asked after a beat of silence. Adam leaned forward again.

“But the four-on-four tournament is coming up in a few weeks, and the courts are taken almost all the time because everyone wants practice time.

I was waiting for a game to finish a couple days ago, and Kyle’s team had just finished on one of the other courts.

He’s playing on a team with his brother and his friends – they’re all seniors.

When they passed our team, he said, ‘We don’t have to worry about them.

They’ve got Aiken, and he’s a pussy like his father.’” Adam grimaced as he spoke and kept his gaze on the floor – far away from Clay’s face.

“Then he said, ‘Funny ‘cause neither of them like it.’” Clay closed his eyes, age-old frustrations rising to the surface as Adam fell silent.

When Clay finally spoke, he tried to keep his voice from communicating how upset he was.

“What did you do?” Adam shook his head, his voice low as he said, “Nothing.

I wanted to disappear.

None of the guys on my team said anything, and they tried to act like nothing happened, but I knew they all felt weird.

I didn’t know what to say to them.

I didn’t want to say anything to them.

I just wanted it to go away.” “Is that when you decided to run away?” Clay asked. “Yeah.

I just couldn’t take it anymore.” He cautiously lifted his eyes to his father’s.

“I was embarrassed, Dad.” Clay nodded silently.

“I was mad at you and Mom for leaving me at home, I was mad because y’all treat me just like Shelby sometimes, I was mad at Kyle for being such an…an…” “Asshole,” Clay finished. Adam lifted his eyebrows in mild surprise.

“Yeah. An asshole ,” he repeated, the word full of disgust.

“I was mad at myself for letting him get to me and embarrass me.” He paused for a moment.

“And I was mad at you .” Adam didn’t explain why he was angry with his father, but Clay understood. “For giving Kyle ammunition.” Adam nodded.

He sat back again and made a fist, tapping it on the couch as he stared at the wall across from them.

“I know it’s not your fault.

But I just…nothing is working, Dad.

I don’t know what to do.” He looked at Clay.

“What am I supposed to do?” Clay didn’t answer Adam’s question for a few moments.

“Adam, I’m sorry if your mom and I have treated you like a baby.

We both know that you’re not.” He met his son’s eyes.

“You’re more mature than I was at your age.” He smiled faintly.

“You might be more mature than I am at my age sometimes.

Speaking for your mom and myself, I can promise you that we’ll try to treat you like an adult.” He sighed.

“And part of that is admitting to you now that I don’t have an answer for this.

I wish I could tell you to say or do something that would make Kyle realize what an asshole he’s being and make him stop.

But I can’t. I couldn’t stop it from happening to me, and I can’t stop it from happening to you.” His chest tightened painfully, his voice tight as he spoke.

“I thought , when your mom and I were dealing with this stuff years ago, that nothing could be worse than that.

Watching her hurt for me and being hurt myself was awful.

But it was nothing compared to this – nothing compared to watching you have to deal with it.

You shouldn’t have to.

We shouldn’t be having this conversation.” He paused.

“But we are. And that’s all we can do – keep talking about it.” “But me and you talking about it won’t make Kyle stop, Dad.” “No, it won’t.

But nothing you or I do is going to stop Kyle.

And you know what?

Even if Kyle shuts up, there are more people just like him in the world.

And we can’t stop them, either.” “So what is talking about it going to help?” Adam asked, crossing his arms. Clay rubbed the back of his neck.

“If I told you that I’m immune to the gossip and the rumors and the whispered slurs, I’d be lying.

I never was, and I never will be.

I hate it. I hate it when it happens to me, and I hate it when I see it happening to other people.” He dropped his hand.

“I’m not an expert on this, Adam.

I can’t give you some cure-all for the Kyles of the world.

All I know is what has happened to me.

I spent a lot of years feeling embarrassed and getting angry when someone made fun of me.” He swallowed painfully.

“I wasn’t like you in school.

I didn’t wear the right clothes or do the right things or look the right way.

I wasn’t good at sports.

So I had my own Kyles long before I was ever famous enough to be in the tabloids.” “What did you do?” Adam asked in a low voice. “I spent a lot of time wishing I could disappear just like you did when Kyle harassed you.

I tried to stay out of everyone’s way in hopes that I would disappear.

If I had attempted to fight any of them, I would have most certainly lost.” “Did it ever get better?” Clay nodded.

“It did. It got better when I stopped worrying so much about what everyone thought of me.” He turned toward Adam.

“I’m not going to tell you that you’ll stop being embarrassed.

And you’ll probably still get angry sometimes.

But when you have strength in here,” he pointed to his chest, “some of that other stuff doesn’t mean as much.

And even when it does bother you, you have the strength to work through it and move past it – like an adult .” He gestured between the two of them.

“And this – us talking – is part of that.

You have to be comfortable enough to talk to me.

And I have to be willing to be honest with you and talk to you .

Every time we work through one of these situations, the next one will be easier.” He shook his head.

“But you know what doesn’t make it any easier?

Fighting or running away.” “I know I shouldn’t have hit him, Dad, but I—” Clay held up a hand.

“I know. I know why you hit him.

And I think you realize that fighting him or anyone else isn’t the answer.

Neither is running away.

If you do that, you’ll be fighting or running your whole life.

And that means they win.” He put his hand on Adam’s shoulder and squeezed lightly.

“The minute they make you run, the minute they make you drop to their level and hurl insults back at them – with your mouth or with your fists – they win.

Does that make sense?” Adam nodded after a moment.

“Yeah.” Sighing, he leaned his head on the back of the couch and looked at Clay.

“Are you going to send me back to Nana’s?” “Your mom and I will have to talk about it.” “I wanna stay here.

On tour. You’ve only got like two weeks left.” Clay nodded.

“I know. That’s what we’ll talk about.” He leveled his gaze on Adam.

“And whether you stay with us or not, we are going to talk about the consequences of what you did.” “But you know why I did it,” Adam argued.

“I know running away was stupid.” Clay nodded again.

“Yes, it was. It was stupid.

And dangerous. But no matter how much I understand or empathize with your reasons, you made a mistake.

Mistakes have consequences.” “What kind of consequences?” “Your mom and I will talk about that, too.” He stood, waiting until Adam did the same to speak.

“ After you talk to your mom.” The younger man shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

“She’s mad at me.” “She’s not mad, Adam.” His son looked dubious, and he laughed.

“Okay, so she might be a little mad.

But more than anything, she’s just been worried about you for months – since you first started having trouble with Kyle.

And since your grandmother called and told us you ran away, your mom has been scared.

We were both scared, but she’s your mama.” He smiled.

“You can’t just show up and tell her you were mad and expect that to fix everything.” “So what do I do?” Clay laughed.

“The same thing I and every other man on the planet does when we screw up – give her a lot of love, agree with everything she says, make sure you pick up after yourself for at least the next few days, and accept the fact that she’s going to remind you of this for the rest of your life.” Adam grinned.

“That’s what you do when she’s mad at you?” He chuckled.

“That’s what I do first .

But I have a feeling that’s all you’ll have to do.” The younger man laughed, and Clay put an arm over his shoulder and pulled him in for a hug.

“You’ll never be too old for that, A-Man,” he said as Adam stepped away a moment later.

Adam smiled, and Clay bent over to pick up the younger man’s baseball cap, handing it to him.

“By the way, how did you get past security to get to the loading zone?” “Oh!” Adam laughed as he put on his cap.

“I know I was being a big shot by running away, but once I got to Atlanta and got in the cab to come here, I started to get scared.

I thought some dude was following me, so I switched cabs at a light and told the driver to take a back way here if he could.

Once I was here, it was a piece of cake.” He grinned.

“All those times you and Mom took us to concerts and we slipped past the crowds so you wouldn’t be noticed paid off.

I just acted like I knew where I was going, and then I climbed over the fence to get back to where y’all would be.” Clay tried to hide his embarrassment.

His very well-trained bodyguard hadn’t been able to keep up with a fourteen-year-old who had seen too many action movies.

“You switched cabs at a light?” Adam nodded, pulling the lever to open the door of the bus.

“Yeah. Like in the movies,” he said with a laugh. Following his son down the steps, Clay merely shook his head.

Chapter 18 Later that night Clay tossed his key card onto an end table after he walked into his hotel suite.

After kicking off his flip-flops, he silently padded to the door of the bedroom and pushed it the rest of the way open.

Leaning his shoulder against the doorframe, he stared at Amanda as she slept. After they had come to an agreement about Adam staying with them on tour and Clay had watched his son hug his mother while she silently cried tears of relief, Clay had relaxed enough to notice that Amanda was about to drop.

He would have to do the show after a short nap in his dressing room, but he had sent her back to the hotel to sleep, assuring her that Adam and he would be fine. Now that the show was over and Adam was happily staying in his own room down the hall, Clay knew he should probably just crawl into bed and go to sleep.

His throat was raw - his voice shot after pushing through the show on so little sleep - his shoulders were tight, he felt like his entire body was drooping with exhaustion.

But in the quiet darkness of their hotel suite, his mind was turning over the night before – replaying the moments before Faye had called.

They had both spent most of the day in tensed worry.

They had both run the emotional gamut as they dealt with Adam and the problems he was facing.

What better way to bring a close to a rather horrible day than to love each other?

As he watched the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she slept, however, he couldn’t bring himself to wake her.

He would just get in bed and go to sleep.

Holding her would be enough. Clay pushed his pajama pants down and kicked them aside before slipping beneath the sheets in his t-shirt and boxers.

Scooting closer to Amanda, he felt the warmth of her back against his stomach and sighed into her hair.

Instinctively, his lips found the soft, downy hair at her nape.

She stirred, saying his name, and he whispered, “I didn’t mean to wake you, Darlin.’” He kissed her neck gently.

“I’m sorry.” The eyes that found his when she rolled over were almost black in the low light.

She smiled. “I don’t mind.” When she dipped her head to kiss the hollow of his throat exposed by the loose neck of his t-shirt, Clay felt her fingers on his hip.

A fresh batch of nerves twisted his stomach, and he silently berated himself.

Your wife is making a move and you’re nervous?

Her lips were warm against his neck as she kissed her way toward his mouth.

But the last time, you couldn’t do it , he reminded himself.

“I love you,” she said against his lips before parting them with her own.

That was last time.

This is this time.

Relax! Her body was warm and growing even hotter as it woke in an age-old way.

Clay’s hands moved her closer, pulled her into the curve of his body, as her mouth caressed his.

God, she feels good.

She feels good, she tastes good – just don’t screw it up this time . Clay could feel Amanda responding as she fell into the rhythm of them.

Her kisses deepened, her touches became more seeking as she pushed at his t-shirt until they had to separate for her to pull the garment over his head.

And yet as natural as it felt, Clay was fighting a battle inside.

Nothing was happening.

Oh my God, nothing .

Amanda’s lips were trailing down his throat, kissing over his chest, and nothing was happening.

Panic surged inside him.

She can’t know. She can’t, she can’t.

What if she tries to touch me?

He quickly rolled them to a sitting position so their hips wouldn’t touch.

Her hair fell over her shoulder, and he plunged his hand into its thickness as he kissed her again.

Maybe more kissing will do it.

Something has to.

This can’t be happening again. Her hands pressed against his back, her nails lightly scraped his shoulders, and her fingers slid through his hair.

When she pulled away, it was with a gasping breath.

As he watched, she pulled her tank top up and off, tossing it aside.

When she leaned forward to kiss him, when he felt her breasts against his chest, a shudder ran through his body.

But it stopped short.

No! What’s wrong with me?

His heart was racing, the muscles in his legs and arms were trembling, but an erection was nonexistent.

He wasn’t going to be able to hide it much longer.

He had to do something before she noticed.

He had to fix this, fix himself.

Or he had to stop.

I can’t let her find me like that.

Not again. I won’t be able to look her in the eye ever again if she does. While Clay was mentally unraveling, Amanda was pushing him onto his back almost without him noticing.

Her lips moved down his chest again, her tongue tracing lazy circles.

When she made a slow, damp ring around his belly button, her fingers closing around his waistband, Clay jerked.

The sudden movement nearly knocked Amanda onto the floor.

“I gotta take a shower!” he blurted as he scrambled off the bed.

The bathroom door slammed before Amanda could process what he had said. For the second time in twenty-four hours, Amanda found herself alone in the bed while Clay was on the other side of a bathroom door.

Staring at the door, she replayed the last few minutes.

What had happened?

She heard Clay turn on the shower.

Chewing on her bottom lip, she realized that he had been distracted.

They hadn’t been emotionally connected like they usually were.

And yet I just kept going .

She shook her head, telling herself to calm down.

But he wanted to make love , she silently told herself.

He got into bed and woke me up .

Her face paled. No, he didn’t.

He said he didn’t mean to wake me.

He just wanted to sleep .

And then she had kissed him.

She had kissed him and started to undress him and taken her own shirt off.

She had all but thrown herself at him.

And he had fled to the bathroom. Embarrassed even as she was alone in the room, Amanda reached for the garment she had tossed aside and pulled it on.

She sat on the edge of the bed, debating knocking on the bathroom door.

The sound of the shower was a dull roar in the nighttime quiet.

Still not knowing what to do, she stood and walked toward the bathroom. As she passed the mirror on a bureau, the whiteness of her tank top was a bright splash in the reflection.

Pausing, she turned toward the mirror.

Had he not been in the mood after a long day?

Or was he just not in the mood to be with her ?

The night before, she had assumed it was just the stress of the day making it impossible for them to make love.

But what if it wasn’t stress?

What if it was her? Her eyes were staring at her shadowy reflection, but Amanda’s mind was elsewhere.

She had taken a lot of good-natured teasing over the years, trying not to blush when she was late for her Saturday brunch with Caroline four weeks in a row because Clay wanted to see if their water bill was lower when they showered together.

And when her mom had flown out to help her repaint one spring, she had kept a straight face when the older woman commented that the wall was scuffed behind their headboard.

When things got hectic with the kids or work, they had dry spells like all couples, but that part of their relationship had always been easy.

They always seemed to be able to find time for one another, and had both commented, on more than one occasion, that some things did get better with age. So what was happening?

Amanda shook her head, refocusing on her own eyes staring back at her.

The shower was still the only sound in the suite, but she nevertheless cast a quick glance over her shoulder to make sure the door was shut before stepping closer to the mirror.

She lifted a hand to switch on the nearby lamp.

Squinting for a moment as her eyes adjusted to the light, she smoothed her hair behind her ears.

What did Clay see when he looked at her?

Did he notice the lines around her eyes?

Feeling silly, she used her fingers to pull the skin tighter at her temples. “Now I just look stupid,” she mumbled, deciding a facelift wasn’t the solution.

She lowered her eyes, frowning.

After another glance at the bathroom door, Amanda turned sideways and then turned her back to the mirror, trying to look over her shoulder.

So I’m not twenty-five anymore;

Neither is he , she told herself.

Yes, but a lot of his fans are twenty-five .

She faced the mirror again.

And they have the bodies of twenty-five-year-olds .

She fingered the hem of her tank top nervously.

They have the breasts and the stomachs and the thighs of twenty-five-year-olds. With a frustrated sigh, Amanda switched the light off.

She didn’t want to see herself.

Walking back to the bed, she tried to tell herself she was overreacting.

She was making something out of nothing.

She rolled onto her side, her back to the bathroom.

No, not nothing , a tiny voice reminded her.

Was it just a coincidence that she couldn’t arouse her own husband after he had decided to tour again and was greeted by hundreds of available, eager, young women every single day?

She swallowed. That was an awfully big coincidence.

Listening for the sounds of Clay coming back to bed, she waited as her thoughts worried over one another. Leaning forward slightly, Clay braced his hands on his knees as he sat on the lid of the toilet.

The shower was still running, but he had stepped out of it long before.

The water that had dripped from his hair and body had nearly evaporated, the tile cool beneath his feet.

His shoulders rose and fell as he sighed heavily.

A quick, downward glance caused waves of shame to pass over him, and he lifted his eyes to the wall across from him. When he had panicked and run to the bathroom, his first instinct had to been to try to fix the situation somehow.

At that moment, he had believed that the evening was still salvageable.

If he could make himself calm down, he could go back into the bedroom and make everything right.

But nothing had worked.

He had stood in the shower, conjuring up fantasies that he would never even dare mention to Amanda, but there he sat.

Alone. A failure. With an exhausted groan, he put his face in his hands.

No one had warned him that this could happen.

Sure, he saw the commercials on TV and heard tales of horror as he flipped through the channels when he was home alone and couldn’t sleep at night.

But those men were older than him.

And they probably didn’t have wives who could turn them on with an arch of her eyebrow.

Standing, he stepped in front of the mirror and made himself look.

So this was it? He couldn’t make love to his wife anymore.

What would Amanda do?

He paled. What if she tried to take him to a doctor?

He shook his head as if arguing with her.

It was humiliating enough to face her and know he was useless.

He couldn’t tell a complete stranger.

What if someone saw him and went to the tabloids?

That rumor would be even worse than the stories when he was younger.

Only it wouldn’t be a rumor.

It would be true.

No. They would just have to be one of those couples that didn’t have sex.

And she would be kind about it, he was sure.

She’d try to spare his feelings.

She’d tell him she didn’t mind, that she loved him, anyway.

She’d say that there were other ways to have sex.

He knew all that.

When he wasn’t embarrassed or exhausted, when he was using his rational mind, he knew.

But he just wasn’t ready to hear his wife tell him that sex wasn’t really all that important.

He didn’t want to hear the “companionship and intimacy are what matter most” speech.

She might even say that they could do without it. Clay frowned.

We might be able to go without it, but damn it, I don’t want to .

Of course, their relationship was more than the moments they were making love, but he had taken pride in the fact that they sometimes acted like they did when they first met and couldn’t keep their hands off each other.

He mentally conceded that it was shallow, but when he had heard other men complaining about only having sex with their wives a few times a month, he had felt more than a little smug.

Other people could make all the snide remarks and assumptions they wanted, he knew that he had a happy wife at home.

Not anymore , he thought with a grimace.

We’ll both be miserable . Unable to stand his reflection any longer, he turned away and reached for his boxers to pull them on.

Carefully avoiding the mirror, he turned off the shower.

Pausing at the door, he took a deep breath.

He exhaled with relief when he stepped into the bedroom and saw Amanda on her side asleep. Trying not to make a sound, he gently pulled the sheets back and slowly lowered his weight onto the bed.

Moving an inch at a time, he turned onto his side, his back to her.

His body, realizing he was in bed, seemed to heave a huge sigh as it finally found the end of a hellacious two days.

His eyes drifted closed, sleep already wrapping itself around him.

Mere seconds ticked by before he jerked at the sound of her voice. “Can I ask you a question, Clay?” His own demons terrorizing him and his body begging for sleep, Clay failed to notice the hesitation and nerves in her voice.

He convinced himself that her tone was disappointed and accusatory.

He swallowed. “Yes.” She took so long to speak that Clay wondered if she had changed her mind and had decided to spare him the humiliation.

It never entered his mind that she was worried about humiliating herself .

“Are you attracted to me?” He sat up, twisting at the waist to stare down at her.

His forehead wrinkled.

“What?” Over her shoulder, Clay could see her fingers twisting the edge of the sheet anxiously.

“Are you attracted to me?” Is she really asking if I’m attracted to her?

That makes absolutely no sense.

Why on earth would she ask that?

It’s not as if. .

.. Clay sighed, feeling even more inept than he had moments before.

He laid his hand on her hip, rubbing it through the sheet.

“I’m sorry, Amanda.

Do you have any idea what an idiot you’re married to?” She rolled onto her back, staring up at him with wide, questioning eyes.

“What?” His expression pained, shame enveloping him again.

“When I…” He swallowed his embarrassment.

She couldn’t think this was her fault.

“When I left the bedroom, it wasn’t because I didn’t want to make love to you.” His gaze caressed her shadowed features.

“I wanted to. I always want to.” He looked away.

As much as he loved her, he couldn’t see her face when he admitted what had happened.

“I left because I couldn’t make love to you.” Amanda pushed herself up in the bed.

She watched him swallow, watched his fingers knot in the sheets as he made a fist.

Even in the low light, she could see pink on his cheeks.

She could see the self-loathing on his face;

She could hear it in his voice.

“You mean that you couldn’t—” “I couldn’t.” He felt like he was suffocating.

“I couldn’t .” Without looking at her, Clay turned away from her again and pulled the sheet up around his neck.

He could feel her gaze, could feel the tension in her body as she stared at him.

She put her hand on his side.

Clay clenched his eyes shut.

“I just wanted you to know that it’s not your fault.

Please don’t say anything else.” It was several seconds before he felt the pressure of her fingers fall away.

He felt her move as she turned onto her side again.

And then he felt her arm slide over his waist.

She did as he asked.

She didn’t say anything.

But he felt her lips against his back as she kissed him gently.

Chapter 19 Three Days Later Clay took a sip of his juice as he watched Adam walk into the restaurant on the first floor of their hotel.

When the teenager flopped into a chair with a sigh, Clay sat down his glass.

“Look who decided to join the land of the living.” Adam yawned, taking off his baseball cap and folding it before he lifted a hip and slid it into a back pocket.

“You’d have just kept calling if I didn’t get up.” A waiter appeared at Adam’s elbow, and he rattled off an order that made Clay raise his eyebrows.

When they were alone, he said, “Are you making plans to hibernate?” “Huh?” “All that food.” The younger man leaned an elbow on the table and propped his head on his hand.

“You sound like Mom.” He yawned again.

“Where is Mom?” Avoiding me , Clay silently answered.

“She’s still upstairs.

She said she had some work to do today.” He knew it was childish, but since the second time he had been unable to make love to her, Clay had been sulking.

At first, Amanda had tried to soothe his embarrassment and reassure him that a lot of men had the same problem.

He hadn’t been soothed.

After he had politely ignored and then rudely rebuffed every attempt she made to approach the subject, she had stopped trying.

A part of him hoped that she had finally decided to follow his lead and let him wallow in his self-loathing.

The part of him that knew her, however, knew it was only a matter of time.

He already had a list of reasons why he was not going to a doctor.

And if she suggested he talk to any of his friends, he had a list of reasons why he wasn’t doing that, either. “I thought today was your day off,” Adam said, interrupting Clay’s thoughts. “It is.

No show tonight.” The teenager reached for a croissant and ripped it in half, crumbs flaking over the tablecloth like confetti.

He shoved the roll into his mouth, and Clay watched him chew.

The younger man’s brow knitted.

“What?” he asked over the food. Clay shook his head, remembering when his mother had asked him if he intended to literally eat her out of house and home.

He was certainly paying for his raising.

“Nothing.” He waited until Adam drank half of a glass of milk in one swig to say, “No show doesn’t mean no work.” “I know that.

But I thought it at least meant I could sleep later than eight.” Part of Adam’s punishment was that he was helping the crew set-up for the show every night.

They had traveled to a different city each day he had been with them, Adam being forced to get up early to go help at the venue. Clay looked at his watch.

“It does. It’s eight-thirty.” Adam rolled his eyes as his father laughed.

He reached for the paper Clay had folded and laid aside.

“Is there a review in here?” Clay fought the impulse to say no.

Adam had wanted to see what life on the road was like.

Bad reviews were a part of the job.

“Yes. First page of the entertainment section.” He watched his son find the article and read it, interested to see Adam’s reaction.

He couldn’t see the younger man’s expression, his sleep-mussed hair still falling in his eyes.

When he lifted his head, however, his attitude was clear. Adam tossed the paper into an empty chair at their table.

“What’s that guy’s problem?” Clay shrugged.

“He didn’t like the show.” “Sounds more like he just doesn’t like you .” The waiter brought Adam’s food, and he grabbed the small pitcher of syrup for his pancakes, his entire plate soon swimming in the sweet liquid.

As he cut a hefty chunk of pancakes, he said, “I mean, it’s like he just wanted to rip into you – like it didn’t matter if the show was good or not.” “That happens.” Adam chewed.

“A lot?” he asked. “Twenty-seven shows so far.

Six bad reviews, seven so-so reviews, and fourteen good ones.” He nodded toward the paper.

“Were all the bad ones that bad?

He was really awful.” “Some of them were.” Adam stabbed at his eggs with his fork.

“Doesn’t it bother you?” “Well, of course I’d love it if everyone loved the show.

But I quit expecting glowing reviews a long time ago.” “But isn’t it bad press or something?” Clay smiled.

“The reviews are printed after the show, so it’s not stopping anyone from going.

I doubt many people in other cities look for reviews before they go to a show.” Folding a strip of bacon in half, Adam ate the whole piece.

“But I thought your fans read everything from everywhere.

That’s what Mom said.” Clay smiled.

“They do.” “Well, what if they read this one?” Clay leaned forward, folding his arms on the table.

“If 8Twelve came to Raleigh to do a show, would you not go because you read a bad review from another city?” Clay asked, referring to Adam’s favorite band. “Heck, no!

I’d be there! They’re awesome!” He smiled.

“Fans don’t usually pay much attention to reviews.

I’m not too worried.” Adam downed the rest of his milk as he finished his breakfast, nodding after he pushed his plates away.

“I still think that reviewer guy is a jerk.” Clay laughed.

“I didn’t say he wasn’t.” The teenager grinned.

“Okay. Can I go back upstairs now?” “Nope.” Clay pushed his chair back and stood.

As he pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and folded a few bills to leave with the check, he said, “Remember when I said that no show doesn’t mean no work?” “Yeah.” Slipping his wallet back into his pocket, he looked at his son.

“Well, I’ve got work to do.” Grinning, Adam put his cap back on as they left the table and looked at his dad from beneath the bill.

“Yeah, but I don’t.” Clay laughed and pulled Adam’s baseball cap off again, smiling at the younger man’s wild hair.

“Unless you want to look like that all day, I’d suggest going upstairs and taking a shower.

You’re spending the day with me.” Adam reached for his cap, missing it as Clay flipped it behind his back and caught it with his other hand.

“Dad, c’mon. I’ll stay here.” “Nope.

Your mom said she had work to do, and everyone else is enjoying their day off.

Me, you, and Jerome are the only ones around.” “So I’m supposed to tag along with you like some kid who can’t stay by himself?” he asked, crossing his arms. “No, not like some kid.” Clay tossed the cap toward his son as he walked away.

Adam caught it, putting it on as he followed him.

Clay punched the button for the elevator and looked at his son.

“I thought you might like to see what I do all day.” “I’ve been with you for three days, Dad.

I’ve seen.” “You’ve spent three days with the crew getting ready for a show - that’s not the whole story.” They stepped onto the elevator.

“I have a lot to do today, and a lot to do tomorrow for the show.

There are going to be some record label execs at the show, so it’s a big night.” “So you’ve got to be extra-good for them?” “If I want to release another album, I do.

I have to show them I’m still marketable.” Adam leaned against the wall of the elevator.

“You want to release an album?” Clay shifted his gaze from the lighted numbers to his son.

“Do you think it’s a good idea?” Adam shrugged.

“What do I know?” Clay smiled.

“You know more than that reviewer.” Adam looked pleased, if shocked.

“What do you think?

Is an album a good idea?” “You’re really asking me?” he asked, unsure of himself. Clay nodded slowly.

“I’m really asking you.” “I think…” He cleared his throat.

“I think it’s a… great idea.” Clay smiled.

“Good.” Hearing the door open in the other part of the suite, Amanda hurriedly flipped her suitcase closed and walked quickly back into the living room.

Had it not looked suspicious, she would have run.

Thankfully, Clay was just inside the door when she reached the laptop and closed it with a snap.

He glanced at her, awkwardness filling the space between them.

He cleared his throat.

“Adam’s just taking a shower before we go.” Amanda lowered herself to the desk chair, crossing her leg beneath her.

“So you two are spending the day together?” He nodded.

“It’ll keep him out of your hair.” “He’ll enjoy it.” “I hope so.” Clay rubbed his hands on his thighs, feeling foolish.

The woman he loved and trusted more than anyone in the world was staring at him from across the room, and he had a stomach full of butterflies.

He should just be honest with her.

He should just admit that he was scared and humiliated.

But instead he gestured toward the computer.

“Did Shelby email us this morning?” “Oh, yes…she did,” Amanda said, seeming somewhat distracted as she opened the laptop.

The only sound that of the mouse clicking as Amanda opened Shelby’s email, Clay crossed the room to stand behind her.

The email open on the screen, he leaned forward and braced a hand on the desk as he read. Mom & Dad (and Adam), Only ten days until the tour is over!

All the girls from gymnastics are totally thrilled with the tickets, Dad!

They can’t wait until the tour comes here. It is so hot!

I’m like dying! Nana said it’s too hot to do anything, so we’ve been going to the pool at A.E.

Finley. Dad, can we please get a pool?

Please, please, please???

I promise I won’t swim when no one’s home.

And I’ll keep it clean.

I swear! Clay looked at Amanda, arching an eyebrow.

“I think she thinks a swimming pool is like a fish tank.” She laughed.

“I’m almost positive that’s what she thinks.” She smiled.

“You remember when Adam had a fish tank when he was her age?” He shook his head, laughing.

“You’re asking if I remember Shelby running into our bedroom sobbing and dripping water all over the carpet with a dead fish in her hands?” Amanda’s shoulders shook as she remembered.

“She wanted you to give it CPR.” He looked back at the screen.

“Yeah. The pool is a no.” Amanda watched him read the rest of the email.

His face was level with hers as he was bent over, and her gaze passed over the slight redness on his cheeks from the sun.

His show the day before had been at a fair, and he had spent a few hours on the midway riding roller coasters.

His face and forearms were splattered with what looked like millions of new freckles.

The sun had also lightened his hair over the last few weeks, turning it a warm strawberry blonde in spots.

The bright morning light streaming in through the window glinted off golden red stubble on his jaw, and she reached up to touch his cheek without thinking.

He turned his head when he felt her fingers, his eyes taking a moment to find hers.

The sun made the green in his eyes nearly translucent even as it warmed the brown flecks in their depths.

He didn’t pull back or look away, and she swallowed. “Clay, I…” He tensed, and what had been a clear, open gaze was suddenly clouded with the wall he had thrown up between them.

You and your silly pride that you let come between us , she silently thought as she mentally knocked down his wall and moved the scant inches between them to touch her lips to his.

He sucked in a breath, but he didn’t push her away. Clay hadn’t expected Amanda to kiss him.

It was his fault they were moving around one another like fumbling teenagers, but he didn’t know how to fix it.

He didn’t know how to fix himself.

And kissing her only reminded him that it couldn’t go any farther than that.

He couldn’t go any farther.

But the millions of times their mouths had touched over the years were bigger than his fear, and he automatically pressed his lips to hers and urged them to part.

As quickly as he felt the sweetness of her tongue sweep over his – had she eaten strawberries that morning?

– she was gone. She pulled back.

He opened his eyes, the brief taste not nearly enough to satisfy him.

There was a small smile on her face, and when she lifted her gaze to his, it was in her eyes.

She rubbed her thumb over his bottom lip.

“Clay, I want you to find something for Adam to do tonight.

Have Jerome take him to a movie or something.” “Why?” His voice was husky, even to his own ears. “I just think we need some time together.” Talk.

She wanted to talk.

The last thing he wanted to do was talk.

Talking meant reliving it.

And reliving it didn’t help him pretend it hadn’t happened.

“I don’t want to talk about what happ—” She put a finger to his lips.

“Just ask Jerome, okay?

For me?” Clay mentally groaned.

For me – the two most powerful words in her vocabulary.

It didn’t matter what came before it, he had to do it.

Go the store and buy tampons, watch this movie, give the fish CPR, gouge your eyes out with a shrimp fork – it didn’t matter.

For me . Now he was going to have to talk about being impotent.

He sighed. “Okay.” She smiled and kissed him quickly, a knock on the door behind them interrupting anything either of them might have said.

Clay turned and walked to the door to answer it, aware that Amanda’s eyes followed him across the room. When Adam and he left moments later, Clay ushered the younger man toward Jerome’s room.

As they waited for Jerome to join them, Adam looked at his dad.

“So, what exactly do you have to do today?” “The usual.” “What does that mean?

Signing autographs at a mall and stuff?” Clay laughed.

“That’s what you think I do all day?” Adam shrugged.

“Isn’t that what celebrities do?” Clay shook his head.

“Not this celebrity.”




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