MARRYING THE ROCKSTAR (#3 ROCKSTAR SERIES)

♪ twenty-three ♪🔥

My teeth were gritted the entire way home. Not because of the traffic, the weather, the security guard sitting awkwardly next to me and avoiding my gaze. Not because of all the feelings I'd unleashed over the past few days.

But because of the feelings I'd need to unleash upon passing the front door.

Leo was home—I'd checked with Petra, and she assured me his schedule was wide open today. She also assured me she'd talked to him for days, spent most of her time with him, trying to understand what was going on in his head, and how better to address his issues.

She didn't tell me, however, what state of mind he was in. If he was pissed at me taking off. Or relieved I was coming home. Or on the verge of kicking me out for throwing a tantrum like the ones he threw by storming off to ruminate over my feelings.

It'd been nearly a week, and I didn't think I was ready to return yet. The air up in the Hamptons, the tranquility, the isolation of it all had helped me, and I needed more time.

But I needed to speak to Leo more; that was more important than my yearning for space and quiet. I needed to speak to him before we proceeded deeper into our wedding plans, before we went too far and there was no turning back.

At this point, I still wasn't sure I could turn back at all. And didn't know if I wanted to.

It was all so blurry in my brain. A mix of wanting to love Leo, thinking I could with time, if I gave us a chance. That if he cleaned himself up a little, controlled his temper a little, we'd make things better.

But then all the catastrophic scenarios barreled through me. A rough divorce, tabloids spreading foul rumors about us, turning into enemies. These negative thoughts prowled into my mind unwarranted, and I found myself holding back tears, holding in the agony.

By the time we rolled into the underground parking, I was a wreck. The poor security guard asked me several times if I needed to go to the hospital, because I kept rocking back and forth on my chair, as if I'd traveled to another world. But I assured him I was fine.

It was all in my head. All mental blockages and fear and uncertainty.

How would Leo react? What mood would he be in when I saw him? What was our future together?

I heaved my bag over my shoulder, exiting the car to make my way towards the door leading into the basement lobby. The instant my hand hit the doorknob, the door burst open, and I gasped at the large body standing in my way.

Leo's body.

I gulped, took a step back to look up at him, to get a full view before all hell broke loose.

He was wearing sweats—unusual for him—his hair messier than usual, his eyes glossy as if he'd been smoking weed. But he didn't smell like weed; more like fresh flowers and soap, like a spring meadow. Maybe he'd been in the shower and got shampoo in his eyes, or something.

His lips were in a straight line; not upturned, not down-turned. No hint of emotion there.

And I braced for it. For the blow-up, the interrogation on why I left, how dare I do that, what was wrong with me, why would I ditch him like that—

Instead, he yanked me into his arms, pressing me hard against his chest.

"Emma," he breathed out, his body molding to me, absorbing my shape as if it'd been months since we'd been together. "Baby, you're home."

I winced as I buried my face into his chest. I'd been so sure something was wrong with us, but this? This embrace, so strong and simple at the same time, spoke volumes. It felt right, to be held by him, his hands rubbing my back, squeezing me tight, tight.