Page 100 of Angel

Our major new single, ‘Roar of Life,’ was generating massive global numbers on Spotify and climbing the Billboard charts.

The immediate excitement meant the label called all the bandmates into duty to work the spin carousel.

The publicity machine morphed into a beast, churning out narratives about Roxy and my whirlwind romance.

We suspected Di of whipping up the media frenzy.

All of a sudden, alongside news of our song release, the press was dissecting our wedding and the honeymoon in Capri across every gossip blog in the country.

The world saw a talented, sophisticated painter married to Six Sinners rock royalty.

I played along with the charade, wearing the devoted husband mask to avoid spooking Reese while my legal team tore through his financial background.

Meanwhile, Roxy and I endured the blinding glare of red-carpet flashbulbs, four o’clock morning network television sets, and live local affiliate feeds, smiling through it all.

The constant upkeep of our public image as a loved-up power couple left us exhausted.

Our annoyance at Reese grew wider with every fake smile we flashed for the cameras.

In private, I treated Roxy with meticulous care and politeness.

Our domestic life was a friendly, sometimes awkward partnership.

We ate meals together, binged TV shows, and spent weekends with Jude and Sofia and the Six Sinners family.

No matter how civil we got, our attraction and sensual energy never quite went away, from shared heated glances to brushes of our hands and yearning alone in bed.

However, I still resisted the desire to drag her into my primary and make love the way we did in Capri.

Sleeping with her ripped open my heart, and now it remained torn in two.

I needed no pressure to deal with my grief from my wrecked romance with Evangeline before I could consider the new future Roxy embodied.

I had to keep reminding myself that she wasn’t Evangeline.

However, it’d take time before I trusted any woman with my heart again.

Despite my reticence, I respected Roxy for her levelheadedness, grace, and artistry.

I sang her praises on the radio, TV, and social media, and soon her art sales were through the roof.

That said, I still needed time to heal, and given the gorgeous woman she was, she never pushed me, which took the pressure off and let me decide on my own time.

One morning, after Roxy left for work, I wandered the house, not quite getting into my music yet, restless, my mind on my wife.

I wanted to show her my appreciation for her patience.

The answer hit me while I stared at an empty wall in my studio.

I showered, dressed, and headed downtown to Art Nouveau, the fine art gallery she managed and where she exhibited her own work.

The glass front doors jingled as I stepped inside, searching for her.

I found Roxy in the middle of the exhibition space adjusting a frame.

Her two assistants at reception froze as I prowled in and raised my chin to them.

I caught them whispering in excitement behind my back, staring at me in awe as I crossed the polished concrete floor in my leather jacket, ripped denim jeans, and boots.