His cheeks turn ruddy. “The Stones are one of my favorite bands.”
I let out a sigh, hating that he has great taste in music. “I’m not going to treat you any differently just because you’re apparently an amazing musician.”
His eyes twinkle as he levels that crooked grin at me. “Wouldn’t expect you to.”
He moves on to other songs, pausing to jot down notes in a spiral notebook while I attempt to calm my racing heart.
Because Jace is a much better singer than Hayden.
I’m starting to get worried. My ex was a bad weather advisory, but Jace Walker? He’s a category-five storm.
Once I get Layla secured in the forward-facing baby carrier on my chest, I grab her headphones, my purse, and my pass. The fairground is huge, and I’m worried I waited too long to head to the stage, but anxiety got the best of me and I had to give myself a pep talk.
The guys take the stage at eight, just before the sun sets. I have half an hour to get there.
As I nearly trip down the stairs—thank God for handrails—one of the security guards holds out his hand. “Whoa, there. Take it slow.”
I laugh awkwardly, grateful I didn’t have to flip onto my back midair to protect Layla. “Any idea where the red pavilion is? I have the map, but I’m turned around.”
He gives me a patient smile and points toward the smaller stage. “If you head around the back, you’ll get in faster.”
“Thank you.” I glance at his name badge. “Appreciate your help, Edmond.”
“Not a problem, ma’am.”
I truck across a parking lot, sweating in the humid Daytona air, and pray for the strength to get through tonight. By the time I reach the right pavilion, I realize I should have carried Layla in her stroller and then put her in the wrap.
Guess I’m getting my workout in, but now I’m sweaty and sticky and more than a little cranky.
I’m wearing one of my long flowing dresses while all the girls I pass wear bikini tops and cutoffs. I don’t usually like to show a lot of skin, but I have to admit this humidity has me reconsidering my clothes. Maybe I can do some shopping tomorrow before the next show. Because I don’t know if I can handle another evening like this.
Plus, I should probably up my game if I’m going to meet this Marlowe person. I whip out my phone and text Baylee.
Me: What do I wear if I want to look attractive?
I hope she doesn’t think I’m doing this to hit on Jace. I quickly text a follow-up message.
Me: I’m meeting some woman from Jace’s past, and…
How do I explain this?
Me: And I need to play the part of doting wife. I’d like to not embarrass myself.
Baylee: Someone from his past, huh? I’m dying of curiosity over here.
Me: I am a vault. I’m sorry, but I can’t tell you anything else.
Anxious, I twist my wedding band as I wait for my friend’s reply.
Baylee: I respect that. So let’s talk outfits. For the record, you’re already attractive, but we can definitely amplify your assets. Let’s get Honey in on this convo because she’s more stylish than I am.
As Layla and I wait to get into the venue through the VIP line in the back, we get Honey caught up on what I’m trying to do.
Honey: There’s a great shop in Daytona my friend owns. I’ll give her a heads-up you might stop in tomorrow. You’ll love her stuff. It’s very whimsical.
Is that what I’m going for? Whimsical? But it’s not like I have a lot of options.
Once security waves me in, I debate where I should go—in the front with fans or backstage? I peek at the crowd, and it’s packed. Nausea swirls in my stomach as I consider wading into all of those people.
