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Her bony elbow finds my ribs. “Like what, a debutante?”
“No. LikeKate,” I say simply.
Her shoulders relax, eyes sparkling. “I think that’s the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me.”
My hand rests on the curve of her hip, the other sliding over her cheek. How many times have I enjoyed the taste of this woman since meeting her?
It’ll never be enough.
“I need to tell you something,” I whisper an inch from her lips.
From the corner of my eye, an event photographer appears, holding out his camera excitedly. “Congratulations on your nomination, Mr. Carlisle. Could I get a picture of you and your lovely date?”
We smile awkwardly, parting a moment to pose. Kate wraps both arms around my waist, squeezing a laugh out of me as I tuck her against my side.
“Three, two, one.” He snaps the shot, checks it, and then thanks us before scurrying off.
“What was it you wanted to tell me?” Kate asks.
I open my mouth to speak, but a stocky woman with wild curly hair is barreling toward us.
“Hang on. I think I found him,” she says into her headset.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I mutter.
Kate gives my bicep a gentle squeeze.
“Damon Carlisle?” The woman asks.
“Yes?”
Adjusting the walkie-talkie on her hip, she gestures for the door. “Name’s Linda, sir. I’ll be escorting you backstage where the rest of your team is already waiting.”
Those familiar nerves begin resurfacing. “Could you give us just a second?”
Linda gives a stern shake of her head. “No can do, sir. I’ve been given instructions to retrieve you immediately.”
“It’s okay. We’ll talk after the ceremony,” Kate says before pulling me in for a hug.
I hold her tight until Linda’s impatience has her foot tapping.
The tip of Kate’s chin rests in the center of my chest as she stares up at me. “Break a leg.”
Her nose crinkles when I gift it a kiss. “I’ll be searching for you.”
Linda makes a break for the door, forcing me to follow.
“You’re going to do great!” Kate shouts, waving as she watches me trail after the woman through the crowded ballroom.
Flashes of the last award ceremony assault me with every blink—the sweat rolling down my back as I tried to form words that refused to cooperate, the blinding lights, and the way my mouth dried out.
Nausea rolls my stomach. Ihatepublic speaking.
Linda leads me through a series of halls leading from the ballroom, through the hotel, and into the convention center where the ceremony is being held.
Vedant and the guys are waiting for me backstage at the end of a long line of people. They wave, easing the tension just a bit, and I thank Linda once she deposits me in front of them.
“Feeling like you’re gonna puke?” Bryce goads.
