Invisible Love Letter (12 page)

I sat in my car in the dead silence of the night until there were no more tears to be shed and my body was weary. By the time I found my way back to my room, it was almost one in the morning. The night I had envisioned in Weston's arms had become just another night alone in a cold bedroom.

I called down to the front desk and asked for a wake-up call and a do not disturb until then. I turned my cell phone off, took a long shower and slipped under the covers. If Leslie needed me, she knew my room number.

I heard a soft tap on the door, and at first, I was hesitant to open it, but then I thought of Leslie sleeping outside. She had sworn she would spend the night with Harry and refused to get a room for herself. Kicking the covers off my body, I strolled over to the door.

When I pulled it back, Weston stood there with his head lowered. “Is this enough time?” He looked up at me. “You asked for space, but this is as much space as you're going to get, Emilia. I don't know how long you're here for—I didn't even know you were coming—but I can't sleep knowing you're only a few rooms away and crying yourself to sleep. It kills me.”

Deep down, I knew he wasn't drunk. The Weston I knew would never touch any illegal substance. And I knew he wasn’t with those girls. I reminded myself that what I had with him was different.

I held the door open for him to walk in. The second the door shut behind me, his arms wrapped around me and his mouth landed on my lips. Weeks of longing made our kiss so much more powerful. I cried as my mouth opened for him to take.

“I can't give you space, Emilia,” he mumbled between kisses. “You are it for me.”

Weston lifted me by my thighs. I wrapped my legs around his waist and his starving lips remained on my skin as he carried me back to bed. He lay me on the mattress and then undressed, leaving nothing on but his boxers. Weston crawled into bed with me, his arms coiled around my body as he held me close.

“Say something.” He brushed my hair back with his hands.

“I love you so much it hurts.”

Weston kissed the top of my head, his lips tender and soft. “I love you more than life itself.”

Exhausted from the drive and fighting, I rested my head on his chest and drifted into slumber.

I
came
out of the shower, my hair wrapped in a towel and Weston’s T-shirt covering my body. He sat on the edge of the bed, his hands fondling a black felt jewelry bag. The air between us felt stiff.

“Do you want to go get some breakfast?” I asked to break the ice.

“I have something for you first.”

I sat next to him in on the bed. His finger dipped inside the jewelry bag and retrieved an antique gold ring. Small delicate roses were carved into the band. He held it between his fingers as he admired its intricate design.

“My grandfather played the guitar every night at this restaurant Mama worked at. She said that's how he won her heart.” He twirled the ring in his hand. “When I showed interest in music, Mama gave me his guitar and this was in the case. Pops worked until his hands were raw to get my grandmother this ring. It was a token of his love for her. When he passed, she put it in the case. I tried to give her back the ring, but she said when I found someone to love I should give it to them.”

He shifted on the bed and took my hands in his. “I love you, Emilia, and I want you to have this. Let it remind you that I'll always be loyal to you.”

“It’s beautiful,” I whispered as he slid it on my middle finger.

“As long as you wear it, you’ll know that I’ll never do anything to jeopardize our relationship. And as long as you’re wearing it, I’ll know that you still have faith in us.”

I cupped his scruffy cheeks with my small hands. “I love you more than I could ever imagine, Weston Carter.”

“It’s you and me, babe,” he whispered against my lips.

As our lips moved together, my thumb twirled my new ring. It was all the assurance I needed to push every doubt out of my mind.

Or so I thought.

L
eslie
and I stood on the side of the stage as the guys performed. Watching Weston on stage was surreal. He was a natural, and the crowd loved him. What wasn't there to love? He was a hot guy on stage singing his heart out. As his girlfriend, it sucked to see how much other females wanted him, but as his biggest fan, it was great to see him grow.

Entranced by Weston's performance, I didn't notice a guy standing next to me until his shoulder bumped mine. I looked up at him. “Sorry.” He was a tall, attractive guy. His hair was curly and long, and his nose was crooked enough to make him appealing. The tag that hung from his neck told me his name was Paulie.

“No need to be sorry.” He smiled and I was greeted by his pearly whites. “I was trying to get your attention earlier, but you've been so focused on the band.” He stepped closer and I pulled away. He was invading my personal space. “I have VIP seats for the show if you'd like to join me there.” He pointed to a section in the crowd that had been marked off for special guests. I ignored him and focused my attention back on the band, but he continued to speak. “I'm really good friends with Jim Johnson and the group Certified. We're having a really exclusive party later on. You should come by. Maybe we'll get to know each other a little better.”

Not only did he seem like a cocky ass who had no problem name dropping other artists on the tour, but he was ruining my concentration. “Thanks, but no thanks. I actually have plans tonight with my boyfriend.”
Get the hint, buddy.

“My bad, but if you change your mind, just give me a holler.” He retrieved his business card from his back pocket and handed it over to me. Wright Management was written on the front. I held on to it long enough to toss when he walked away. I looked over at Leslie; her eyebrows were scrunched together, silently questioning me.

“Some douche.”

I brushed off our encounter and continued to listen to Weston. His time was almost up. He pulled out his guitar and sat on a stool. I’d never seen him play it on stage. Usually, it was in the house when he was working on a song. Lowering the microphone, he spoke to the crowd.

“How's everyone feeling tonight? Thank you all for coming out. I know you guys are ready to rock, but before we leave, I have a special song.” Weston lowered his gaze; his fingers ran over the guitar strings as he strummed each cord.

It was
his
song. His original song that he’d written; the same song I’d helped him in the studio with. I was witnessing his dreams become a reality. The crowd was silent as they listened to him play, wrapping around their soul and captivating them. When he finished, the crowd cheered and I jumped with joy.

Weston exited the stage and darted towards me. His hands wrapped around my body as he swung me in the air. I giggled and squeezed my arms around his before I leaned down and kissed his soft lips.
My boyfriend, the lead singer.

“Did you like it, babe?”

“I fucking loved it!” I shouted and then kissed him again.

The other band began setting up for their performance as we walked toward the backstage. The guys were already planning their night out, and Leslie was tagging along with Harry. Weston braided my hand with his and brought his lips to my ear.

“I have something special planned for us.” A small grin appeared on his face and his eyes immediately darkened. I knew that look.

The drive from the arena to the hotel seemed to take longer than the ten hour drive to Salt Lake City. My foot tapped on the car floor as Weston drove. When he parked, his gaze met mine, his eyes filled with want and desire. Without a second thought, I hopped over the center console and onto his lap.

It had been too long.

Weston's hands cupped my breasts, his thumbs playing with my nipples through my bra. Moaning in ecstasy, I let him reach under my shirt, lower my bra, and pinch my pebbled nipples. I lowered my mouth to his and captured him in a deep kiss. Our tongues swirled as he licked me, hungrier with each passing second. It was a kiss to make up for lost time. It was a kiss of desperation.

Weston lifted my shirt and exposed my breasts. Cupping them in his strong, calloused hands, he licked the hardened buds. I whimpered and bucked down on his erection. I needed him. I moved to pull my shirt off.

“Your windows aren’t tinted, babe…”

“Please,” I begged. We were in a dark, empty parking lot, but I didn’t care who saw us. I was desperate.

“I don't want anyone to see us. I don't want anyone to see what I plan on doing to you for the next few hours.” Lowering my shirt, he tapped my butt and ushered me off his lap. Weston kicked the front door open and ran around to help me out.

He locked my hand in his and led me to our hotel room. My hands trembled as I slid the keycard into the door. Once the door was shut with the
Please Do Not Disturb
sign, Weston strolled towards me, his eyes pitch black.

The air in the hotel room had vanished.

Weston’s body towered over me, my back flat against the door. His hands tickled up my thighs until his fingers captured the hem of my shirt and lifted it over my head. His tongue slid across his lower lip and a shiver ran up my spine. Taking my hand in his, he kissed the top of my ring. “I'm going to devour you,” he said in a low, raspy voice. “I promise I will kiss every inch of your body.”

That night Weston fulfilled every promise.

W
eston’s cell
phone was ringing. As he reached across to the nightstand to answer it, I got out of bed and went to wash my face. When I returned from the bathroom, he was sitting on the bed, his phone still glued to his ear.

“Yeah, that works . . . Sure, we can meet there … Okay, man, I'll see you soon.”

Weston tossed his phone on the bed and reached for me, a wide smile on his face. “That was Paulie Wright with Wright Management. He heard our original song.” Weston tugged on my arms until I was straddling him. “He wants to meet me for lunch and talk business.”

A part of me wanted to tell Weston how much of a douche Paulie was, but if Paulie could shift Weston’s career and open doors for him, it was best that I kept my mouth shut.

“Come with me to lunch?”

“K,” I whispered.

Framing my face with his hands to kiss me, the urge to cough climbed up my lungs. I pulled away from him and covered my mouth as I began to hack. I located my cough drops, twisted the wrapper off one, and tossed the candy in my mouth.

“Are you still sick?”

“I can't seem to get rid of this cold. When I get back to LA, I need to go to the doctor and ask for stronger pills.”

“Come here, babe. I’ll take care of you.” He pulled me towards him.

Weston and I stayed curled up in bed for most of the morning. I didn't want to move from our spot, but eventually we got ready and made our way to the burger spot Paulie had chosen for lunch. On the way there, I decided if Paulie mentioned me to Weston, then I would tell him the truth: he invited me to a party and I said no. A part of me didn’t want to lie, but if I told Weston that Paulie hit on me, he would be reluctant to work with him.

As we approached, Paulie’s smile changed to a stern look when he noticed my hand was laced with Weston's. When Weston introduced us to one another, he acted as if he’d never met me before.

Fine by me.

Paulie got right to business, talking about every other artist he had worked with. The keyword that kept jumping in my head was
had
. If he was this great manager with so many connections, why had these other people left? Weston described where he saw the direction of the band going once the tour was up. I sat in silence and picked at my food while the guys chatted, never once giving my opinion.

Before the waiter placed the check on the table, Weston scooted out to use the bathroom. My fingers twirled my ring to avoid making conversation with Paulie, but when he cleared his throat, I looked up from my hands and found him smiling.

“Don't worry, I won't tell your boyfriend that you were flirting with me.”

My lips curled with disgust. “You're really full of yourself, you know that?” I stood and walked out of the restaurant. I’d wait for Weston in the car. Fifteen minutes had passed before he joined me. I was playing a game on my phone when he pulled the door open.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I lied. “I began to cough and I didn't want to make a scene in the restaurant.”

Weston ran his fingers over my cheek and kissed my forehead. “You didn't seem like you had a good time.”

“I did. I'm just a little tired, that's all.”

Weston leaned across the car and kissed my cheek softly. “Thank you for coming.”

Weston and I made it back to our hotel, then hung out with the guys for a bit before it was time for them to set up and have their sound check for the night. It would be my last show before Leslie and I headed back home. Though tomorrow was the Fourth of July, I wanted to get to LA as soon as possible to avoid traffic.

“We gotta go, babe,” Weston said as he shut the TV off. We had come back to our room so I could grab my bags.

I was rummaging through my small suitcase. “Hold on, I need to find something.” I couldn't remember the last time I had taken my birth control.

“What?”

“Ah! Here it is!” I popped open the pink plastic compact.

“Did you miss your pills?”

“Yeah.” I turned the dial and pushed out two pills. Throwing them down the back of my throat, I swallowed them.

“Aren't you supposed to take those every day?” His voice was laced with concern. He had the right to be. He had his whole future ahead of him.

“Calm down. I’m not trying to trap you or anything. I don't even want kids.” I zipped up my suitcase.

“You don't want kids?” Weston rose from the couch and walked towards me.

“No.”

“Every girl wants kids.” He enveloped his arms around my lower back.

“Not this girl. Sorry to burst your bubble.” I gave him a cute pout, trying to make light of the situation. Not only did I not want kids, but it was impossible. I suffered from
polycystic ovary syndrome
and premature ovary failure, which meant my body didn’t ovulate regularly. Taking birth control merely helped to regulate my periods.