Amy found the bathroom when we got back to the hospitality room. I followed her inside and quickly swiped away the mascara smudges under my eyes. I took about seven million cleansing breaths, avoiding my own reflection, which was just going to leave me unsettled. I straightened my skirt, my top. No cleavage to speak of, I was ill equipped for backstage. I really wished I'd worn something vaguely sexy. Damn my sister and her nebulous fashion advice.
My stomach growled, loudly, and I crossed my arms at my waist to muffle the sound. Eamon had made me forget about food tonight, event though I'd been famished. He'd had that effect on me when we were together, too. I lost my Freshman Fifteen, plus another ten. I'd needed no sustenance other than Eamon. Precisely why it felt like playing with fire to be around him.
Amy came out of the stall and washed her hands. “Ready?”
I wasn't.
Back in the hospitality room, we tried to act nonchalant and cool. There were about two dozen people in there with us, an odd mix of women trying too hard, scruffy looking rock guys, and a couple of teenagers with rolled posters and Sharpies. Not nearly enough room to hide. I still wasn't sure I had the guts to approach him. What if Amy was right and he'd forgotten me? What if I had to introduce myself? Surely I had never meant as much to him as he had meant to me.
I opened my mouth to say something mindless to Amy, and Eamon walked into the room. The chemistry of the air abruptly changed. I wasn't the only one to notice. Everyone did. The tone of voices changed, they pitched higher, and the conversations became rambling and painfully self-aware.
He was wearing the beat-up jean jacket he'd owned when I knew him. His hair was pulled back in a messy knot. He stopped to speak to a redheaded man with a fluffy beard. They smiled. They laughed. Eamon clapped him on the back. He was wearing sunglasses. Black ones, Wayfarers. It was too bad, because I'd really wanted to see his eyes up close one more time, but I understood it—rock star. He pulled it off so effortlessly, it was like everyone who'd done it before him was just copying his look.
This was all too intimidating. I couldn't approach him. Why torture myself? If I talked to him and had to explain who I was, I'd never stop thinking about it. It would stick with me forever. I was there to remember the good times. The sexy times. There were a lot of those.
“He's coming over here.” Amy rattled the words off so quickly that it came out as a single utterance.Hescomingoverhere.
“Would you stop grabbing my arm?”
I turned and Eamon was zeroing in on me, people in the room parting to make way. A few tried to talk to him, but his path to me was clear.
He swiped off his sunglasses and said it.
He said my name.
Right then and there.
“Katherine.”
I waited for my head to hit the floor. But somehow, I didn't faint.
Chapter Three
“Katherine.”
It was like no one had ever said my name before, like he'd plucked it out of thin air. I'd forgotten the lilt of his voice when he said it.Kah-thrin.If I thought too hard about what it was like to have him mutter it directly into my ear, his soft breath on my neck in the middle of the night, I was going to leave backstage on a stretcher.
“Hi.”That's what you came up with? Hi?
He pulled me into a hug, holding onto me for a few seconds. I'd also forgotten just how tall he was, probably because it was different when you were standing this close to him. He made me feel petite. I never felt petite. I took my chance and settled the side of my head against his broad chest, tentatively placing my hands in the center of his back and soaking up his body heat, all while remembering what his embrace had been like when we'd had to say goodbye. I'd drenched his shirt with tears. He'd kissed the top of my head over and over again. But he never asked me to stay. And I never asked if I could, even though I'd wanted to.
He stepped back and shook his head in disbelief. “This is such a surprise.” He sucked in his lower lip and licked it, leaving me staring at his mouth for too long. Kissing Eamon had been my hobby for four months. It was hard not to get caught up in remembrances. “How long has it been?”
I'd stopped counting at five years, four months, and eleven days. I was driving myself crazy.“At least ten years.”
“Incredible. Absolutely incredible. I'm so glad you came.”
Just say a few intelligent words. It doesn't have to be an Oscar acceptance speech.I shifted my weight and tried to figure out what to do with my hands.“The, uh, the show was great. Really good. Super good, actually.”
“She cried,” Amy added.
“Amy,” I blurted.
“What?” She shrugged and smiled sweetly. “You did.”
Eamon laughed. I'd forgotten what a freaking fantastic sound that was—throaty and sexy. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”
“This is my sister, Amy.” I didn't add on any commentary about how she was thirty years old and still working on her manners.
