Juliet glared at the empty space in front of her in the hotel hallway. She didn’t even care if she sounded petulant as she answered, “Both.”
“Right, okay. Well, in the non-rhetorical way: whenever you haven’t been flying out to see We, The Romantics on tour, or busy with events or brand deals, you’ve been both reading and writing nonstop. Day and night. There comes a point where the wellmustrun dry.”
She scowled at Laura’s very logical and correct answer.
For the last six weeks, she’d been doing exactly what Laura had listed.
She’d flown to see We, The Romantics – to seeDarcy– four more times, usually staying Friday and Saturday nights in Darcy’s hotel room, then seeing her off onto the bus.
Juliet no longer lived the tour bus life, blessedly, when she was performing. She’d love to say she’d never go back to it, butthe truth was that if Darcy had herowntour bus, Juliet would absolutely climb aboard.
But Darcy’s bunk wouldn’t even be able to comfortably fit them while theyweren’thaving sex. And sex would be completely out of the question given that Blythe and Emerson were also sleeping in their own bunks in the same space, with a curtain being their only privacy barrier.
Besides, Juliet needed her weeks to – as Laura had pointed out – work tirelessly on preparing for her next album.
She’d never felt such a fire lit under her, before. Not only that but she was inspired. She felt more creativity flowing through her veins than she’d experienced in a very, very long time. Maybe ever.
However, that had changed her typical schedule. Normally, she took a little break after wrapping up a tour. But after her tour had finished in December, she’d gone into planning for the soundtrack song with Darcy in January and then had dove right into this new album.
But she’d been looking forward to this for the last couple of weeks. Since Darcy had asked her to perform with them, she’dwantedit.
She wanted to perform live with Darcy again, which she hadn’t done since November. She knew, instinctively, that it would feel even better, now. Even more intense. That it would hit somewhere inside of her that she was craving to experience.
She’d manipulated the situation with Harrison, even. First, she’d reached out to Thomas and to her PR team, telling them that We, The Romantics was interested in her as a guest performer on their tour. Once her management was already on board – quite excited, really, about the prospect, given that Darcy’s tour was, unsurprisingly, being raved about –she’dcalled a meeting with PR, Thomas,andHarrison.
She’d deliberately backed him into a corner, forcing his hand into agreeing with what a great idea this was.
Juliet didn’t need Harrison’s permission for anything, but she’d managed to force hisblessing, and made it appear that it wasn’t actually her doing, at all.
And now, she felt like her head was about to goddamn explode?
No.
Fuckingno.
“You have your meds, though,” Laura informed her. “I double-checked it was in your pack-pile when you were in the studio this morning.”
“Thanks,” she muttered, squinting as Darcy’s hotel door came into view. “’ts in my suitcase.”
Unfortunately, her suitcase had been tucked into the very back of the car that had picked her up from the airport. Her migraine had really hit about five minutes into the drive to the hotel. Then, they’d been stuck in traffic for nearly forty minutes.
She’d tried to stave it off, lying back on the seat and covering her face with her jacket, the car in complete silence.
Rarely did a migraine reach the point where she started experiencing any serious aura symptoms, but she’d just heard herself slur her words together, and everything in the hallway was looking blurrier.
“Gotta go,” she managed, feeling herself start to sweat – well, sweat more – when she reached Darcy’s door.
Urgently, she reached out and hit her palm against it, swallowing tightly as her stomach started to churn.
Like… churn, a lot.
Damn it. Damn it, damn it, damn it. She was –
She’d just opened her mouth to shout Darcy’s name when the door opened.
There Darcy stood, her smile vibrant and bright, and Juliet couldn’t admire it for even a second.
She rushed past, heading straight for the bathroom. Stumbling over her feet as she went, clipping her shoulder on the doorframe.
