We’d arrived to the Parisian Orb Hotel how we always do when entering big cities that are aware of Guarderobe’s arrival dates: at night, around 2AM.

That’s when most of the waiting, hopeful crowds have given up and left the area. But our tactics don’t work on the Parisians. They’re different. This is a city that opens for dinner at 9PM with dance clubs never opening doors before midnight. Two AM in Paris is prime-time here so the place is mobbed.

Once we make it through the throngs of people flooding the street in a full circle around the entire hotel, instead of going straight to our rooms, we’ve all been asked by my Uncle Gregory to have a quick meeting in the hotel conference room, because, it appears we need to adjust our plan or something.

Robin and I napped some in the plane while on the hour and a half flight over, and she even nodded off in the limo from the airport to here, but she’s still not used to the late-night-all-night lifestyle like I am. The poor girl looks all puffy-eyed and out of it. She’s also making this expression that has me wonder if she thinks she’s dreaming that she’s now standing inside a fancy hotel in Paris.

Meaning, she’s so adorable and wide-eyed and leaning on me smiling, that I take advantage of the situation and I press a fast kiss on her lips, muttering, “There’s paparazzi watching us right now, Robin. I think they’re coming to this meeting with us. My uncle seems to have something up his sleeve. You going to make it through this without falling asleep on my arm?”

“Mm-hmh, thanks for the warning. Didn’t see them trailing us. Do I look okay? I’m only wearing leggings and one of your concert t-shirts. I didn’t think we’d have to see anyone who counted,” she says, in this sleep-distressed-sexy-voice that has me regretting I’d only stolen one kiss. Because now I want two.

I grin at her. “You’re so cute half awake right now. As for how hot you look in the Guarderobe world tour t-shirt? Let’s just say I’m about to text the product manager to order more of this particular one, because once the press gets photos of you in it, we’re about to sell millions of them. That ten-million dollars you’re all worried about, will be paid back by next week. I don’t know why I didn’t think of this before.”

She weakly punches my arm. “Shut up. You know that’s not true.”

“As true as our skyrocketing album sales.” I bump her shoulder. “Maybe that’s why Gregory called this meeting. Hunter said he’d heard this quadruple platinum sales rumor. Adam swears it’s true. The introduction of Roy-bin into Guarderobe’s year has sold us more tracks than all of our years combined.”

“I’d heard some things about that, too.” She bumps my shoulder back. “But I wasn’t sure it was true, and like I always say, it’s all your talent and has got nothing to do with our marriage.”

Now I want to run for the damn shower because she’s now smiling up at me like she wants another kiss, all while licking her lips while we follow the entourage down into a conference room.

Damn those lips!

She appears to wake up more when we take our seats at the long conference table. We’re sitting along with Hunter and Vere. Evie and Adam, who’ve been in Wales this whole time, slide in across from us. Baby Apple, still buckled into her car seat carrier and sound asleep for now, has been placed in a dark corner right behind us.

Robin, fully awake now, has her big blue eyes sparkling her excitement into mine while she looks around the conference room and whispers, “This hotel is so very…French, isn’t it?”

“Is it?” I raise a brow.

“Yes. Look at those.” She grins, pointing at three antique, Victorian glass chandeliers hanging over the conference table that I hadn’t even noticed. When the hotel staff arrives with snacks for us to eat and they place an entire plate of flaky, perfect croissants smack in front of Robin, she bumps my shoulder again, this time waggling her brows like crazy. Her eyes are now so sparkling-wide and happy, she takes my breath away.

I also know what she’s thinking, and it’s probably something like: Yay. croissants! Real. French. Croissants!

I want to taste one of those croissants at the same time she takes her first bite and then stare into her eyes to watch her reaction while we chew. I discard that thought immediately, because—forget biting into my own croissant at the same time and staring at her while she does the same—I want to taste her lips while she’s tasting that croissant and smiling at me.

She’s now staring holes through the tall antiqued, shimmering lead-framed windows as she takes in what she can of the buildings across the street. Each building looks like a work of art, many with scrolling columns, and little wrought-iron balconies boasting thick summer flowers, cascading in every direction.

Forcing my gaze away from Robin’s delight, I catch my grandmother sharp stare and hold it. She gives me this worried, severe head shake that has me wondering if I may have been flashing to the whole room just how irrevocably and deeply in love I am with Robin. I smile back at my grandmother, then give a side nod towards the group of press in the corner—sending out fat lies back to my grandmother that hopefully are saying, whatever look I’d just had on my face was simply all for show.

She frowns more, and for now, I do not risk looking at Robin again. I do not risk tasting a croissant. Hell, I even consider holding my breath for the rest of this meeting to see if it would abate the expanded feeling I’ve got going on in my heart. I wonder if there is any way I could somehow punch my heart back down to normal size and order myself to make it feel, back to normal.

But I know that’s impossible.

This feeling, the one I’ve had since the day I met Robin, is now my new normal. It’s like a drug and I’m addicted. I also don’t care if my heart explodes one of these days. I think, at this point I’d rather die than try to stop it. I like it.

Love it.

Love her.

Love…her….

As our attorneys, the entourage and even more press get into the room, we shove our chairs closer together to accommodate the crush. Robin takes up my hand into hers, and I squeeze back, smiling and hoping she can read my mind that I can’t wait to show her Paris. When I release her hand, I also have to force my gaze away from her beautiful face again, because—shit.

I wasn’t supposed to look at her or touch her again, but I just did it. And damn all croissants to hell, because the girl has her cheeks stuffed chipmunk-full of croissant, and she is licking flaky crumbs off of her sexy lips right now, just how I imagined she would, which is killing me.

And… damn my grandmother, she’s still staring at me! Still reading every tangled-up thought in my head.

When I look up at my Uncle Gregory his face is like a mirror image of my grandmother’s disapproving expression. Worse, when I look between Hunter and Adam, my very best friends, they’re also firing out their: dude-you-are-in-too-deep expressions, right along with the waves of don’t-you-dare-hurt-our-Robin glares.

As if they all own her, or something.

As if I would hurt her when I’ve sworn not to. Assholes, all of them.

I’d like to see them do what I’ve been doing while trying to stay sane.

Fuck them. Fuck all of them. Did they think I wouldn’t fall in love with this girl when they all love her, too?

Suddenly everything feels too raw, too over-exposed—and insane. To make it all worse, Clara and her mother have slid into seats on the left side of me.

Vere, thankfully surprises us all by dashing in behind Robin, putting her index finger up to her lips so we all stay quiet. She distracts me from my dark thoughts by placing her hands over Robin’s eyes, and then calling out, “Guess-who,” before leaping onto Robin with a clumsy, whispered hug. “Just made it! So happy to be here!”

Robin beams at her like Vere’s her long-lost sister. “I’ve missed you! Yay! Yay! Yay! Oh, you’re here!”

Vere pulls away, pausing to tighten the rubber band on her bun and skips right into Hunter’s lap, planting a distracted kiss on his lips while babble-whispering to Robin, “Paris. We have so much to see, to shop for, to eat!” She claps her hands. “We’ve also got the Paris Teen-Select Awards this week. I’ll get to be there with you the whole time.”

Robin shakes her head. “I was trying not to think about the awards show. The whole idea of me, on a red carpet, makes me feel really queasy.”

“Well nerves be gone. I wouldn’t leave my little friend alone to attend her first red-carpet awards show, all while Royce skips around being a famous rockstar.” Vere giggles, making Robin giggle back, and for the first time since I’ve known my best friend’s girlfriend, I envy her for the close friendship she has with Robin, because…is it horrible that I just don’t want to share her?

“I don’t skip, and she wouldn’t be sitting alone,” I grumble, feeling suddenly cranky. “Her seat is next to mine.”

“Which will be empty nearly the whole time. What do think she’d be doing while you’re interviewing and presenting the awards, and then performing your hit single with the guys? She’d be alone for half of the show all while those camera men walk by and shove those freaky lenses in her face; but not anymore.” Vere beams. “Awards ceremonies are lonely-long nights for us long-term-relationships without best friends along.”

Clara clears her throat, and I catch her rolling her eyes. “Vere, you’ll need to make sure Robin holds steady during the camera-cuts to the commercial breaks. She’s going to need to be trained in front of a mirror how to sit and how to hold her crazy expressions in check.” Clara adds, laughing a little—but her laughter sounds sharp and unkind.

“Oh she’ll be fine, we all love her beautiful-crazy expressions,” Vere answers, tossing Clara a small frown like she also didn’t like the way Clara had laughed.

“I didn’t think about the cameras,” I add. “Those do tend to freak people out. And fine. Vere, I guess I am happy you’ll be there for her.” I frown, tossing a grateful look at Vere for knowing she’d need to step in keep Robin company during the ceremony, but Clara has just made this little sarcastic-snorting-sound to go with her advice, so I feel like I need to put her in her place so I add quickly, “It’s just that I’ve never had a real girlfriend attend these shows before. And of course never a wife, one whom I adore. So I’m going to want it all to be perfect for her,” I add. “I’d always had movie stars or other performing artists as ‘dates’ to these things. Dates set up between my agent and publicists and theirs.”

“Why?” Robin asks, seemingly oblivious to Clara’s veiled insults. “Wait. All those girls you dated before me, they weren’t real dates?”

“Duh.” Clara rolls her eyes again. “They were business arrangements set up between agents. Stars often want to have maximum media exposures at these events. Pair one starlet to Royce Devlin for a night and the gossip magazines can’t take enough photos. Talk shows invite those girls on to ‘talk’ while everyone else speculates for weeks if they’d hooked-up, or were truly an item or not. Honestly, Robin. It’s like you really did just fall out diapers sometimes,” she says, adding in a little laugh and making this face like Robin’s this adorable little baby-pet we all found. This treatment adds to the ticked-off-cranky feeling I’m having, as Clara continues on, “This awards show is one that’s going to require tons of work on your part.” She scrunches her face, motioning to everyone at the table. “From Robin’s hair, to her nails, to even how she walks slightly like a hunchback. We can’t wow people with that, or with any sort of thrift store outfits like what you did in London. Not here in Paris, or you’ll be crucified. Literally. Crucified.”

I hate the way Clara’s words have all but wiped the excited smile off of Robin’s face and worse, have confirmed Robin’s fears about needing a stylist here in Paris. I just don’t agree with that idea, and for some reason I hate how Clara will be Robin’s advisor, but instead of being able to formulate my thoughts, or say the right thing, I’m distracted when Clara leans way too close to me—giving me a view of her over-large-over-siliconed fake breasts in her low cut blouse. “Which is why you can just lean on me.” It’s all I can do not to grimace and lean as far away as possible while she smiles cloyingly up at me and adds, “And don’t you worry about any of this, Royce. Mother and I have a huge plan in place for Robin. She won’t mess it all up once we’re done helping her.”

I want to shut this girl down, but her mom pipes in before I can say anything—and as much as Clara is annoying as hell, Clara’s mom has done such a good job for us, and for years, that I’m going to let this obnoxious, rude girl slide for now. “Clara’s right, Royce. There is work to be done. I’m glad we had a moment to talk about it. We want you to know Robin will be booked solid on Friday from dawn to dusk before the awards show.”

Clara smiles, acting all professional and bossy. “Yes. We have hairdressers and dress fitters coming. No coming in to distract her that day. Promise?”

In an attempt to get the twinkle back in Robin’s eyes, I do manage to say clearly, “Do what you want with Robin’s styling, but Robin couldn’t mess anything up. And she doesn’t need lots of work, or whatever you’re planning. I’ll give you Friday afternoon with her, and Friday afternoon only. The rest of the week is mine and just like in London we will be picking our own outfits this week. And I’m taking her—alone—FYI, to dinner and the Eiffel Tower as soon as I have the chance.” I toss Vere a look. “And unlike the London Eye day, Robin and will be on a date, a really romantic perfect date, and no one will be invited along on that. It’s been been a dream of my wife’s to see it all lit up at night. And she wants to see a ton of art here, so I also want to be there when she goes to all of the museums, as well.”

Vere’s forehead has creased into worry lines. “You can have the Eiffel Tower, but Hunter and as well as Evie and Adam are coming along to the museums, too.”

I sigh, happy my comments seem to have put Clara in her place, because she’s now sitting back away from us all, pretending to ignore what I’ve said while chewing down her croissants.

Turning away from Clara completely, and wondering how Vere and Robin can stand this girl, I address Vere only. “Fine, but don’t think I’m going to share Robin easily. I’ll be holding her hand the whole time at every museum.”

Robin has colored some and I breathe much better when she laughs. “You guys. Please. You’re acting like I’m a kindergartener and it’s my first day of school.”

“This is more important than a first day of school.” I place my arm around her shoulder and tangle a finger into her amazing hair. “It’s your first days in Paris and I refuse to miss one second of you, experiencing all of the wonders this city has to offer.”

Vere pulls a face. “Royce. You know this city means extra concerts and band appearances. Robin and I are going to go shopping here. Girl-bonding-shopping, and no offense, but you can’t come. There’s only 24 hours in a day. Last I heard you might also have to sleep.”

I pull my arm tighter around Robin and wink. “It’s hard to sleep with this one right next to me, because all I want to do is…this,” I drop a quick kiss on the side of her face. This brings every color of a fiery sunset into her cheeks and she breathes out, “Royce,” laughing a little as though in protest, but I can tell Robin understands that I’ve done this to put Clara off a little.

Clara, as if on cue, nearly chokes on her croissant, drops it like a stone onto her plate and pushes back her chair. “Disgusting. Anyone want more fruit? I’m heading to the side table.”

When she’s gone, Robin squirms out from under my arm, and asks, “What extra concerts?”

I sigh. “Happily and sadly, thanks to our romantic love story, plus because of our antics around London, the fan base seems to have doubled here in Paris overnight. They love us more than ever right now, so we’ve agreed to two extra shows. Which again, is why you have to finally believe me that the money we’ve put up for your father is hardly a drop in the bucket you’ve made for us.” I can’t resist tugging at one of the curls framing her face.

She drops her voice. “Please. Royce. It can’t possibly have made up anything near ten million dollars.”

“Yes.” I blink back. “That and more, so stop feeling guilty, because I know you have been ever since you found out that stupid, irrelevant number.”

Her mouth turns down into a frown and her eyes flash with challenge.

I shake my head, deciding change the subject because I don’t want to argue with her. “Anyhow, four out of the seven nights we have in Paris will be show nights now. One will be for the awards ceremony on Friday.” I wink at her as Clara returns to the table and raise my voice to be certain the glowering girl overhears us. “But, honey, that leaves tonight, and tomorrow night for dates and fun and hanging out together just you and me. I only wish it could be more.”

Robin shakes her head and smiles at me, biting into another croissant, pausing to close her eyes with what looks like sheer-food-joy, before she waves it in front of my face, talking with a full mouth she says, “You gotta taste this.”

But I’m not looking at the pastry. I’m staring at her lips again as she beams, taking another huge bite, then she shoves a chunk of into my mouth and I think I should get a medal because I did not capture her wrist and hold her hand at my mouth so I could suck on her buttery fingers.

She’s saying, “Royce, you don’t have to take me anywhere. Honest. This, amazing French croissant alone, it’s enough.”

As I chew the bite of pastry she gave to me, it takes all of my strength to tamp down the desire that’s flowing in my veins now. I also have to swallow this burst of happiness I get just watching her chew and grin at me, because, damn but I love this girl too much.

Thankfully, my uncle saves me from leaning over and kissing her hard in front of everyone, when he turns on a small microphone and clears his throat. Still love-drunk on Robin’s sweet face, I’m half wondering why the guy has a microphone, and also why he’s signaled some cameramen to start filming, but as Robin wipes her face and fingers with a napkin, then settles in next to me so close, I’m busy making sure my chair is closer to hers. And when she picks up my hand like it’s fine and natural for her to do so, I’m all nearly rendered incapable of conscious thoughts because I’m just about her soft curls tickling the underside of my chin where her head is close to my face, and only into breathing in her lavender scent and become lost in the heat and too much damn white-hot-want to pay attention to anything beyond the bubble of energy that is simply us right now.

“People. People. Listen up. We have lots to discuss. Announcements that absolutely cannot wait will be first.” I glance up again at my uncle and see he’s waving a paper. “Robin. Robin where are you. Sage? Are you in here?”

“Here!” Sage calls out from the other side of the table where he’s been entertaining Adam’s little baby.

“Here.” Robin, shifts a little against me so she can pull out her arm to wave.

Gregory spots her as well, locking eyes with her as he clears his throat again. “I don’t know how to say this. We have news.” At those words, Robin has gone stiff and simultaneously gripped my hand vice-tight, but as Gregory smiles at her she pulls in a half breath, and nearly chokes on it as he goes on, “Your father’s been found. It was all real. The ransom’s been paid. He’s been extracted. Kids. He’s alive. Your father. He’s alive and well.”

Robin shoots out of her seat and stands frozen like she’s been hit with a bullet but doesn’t know how to fall. My gaze is drawn to her other hand, the one that’s not in mine. It flutters first toward her heart then, gets stuck frozen in mid-air halfway to her temple as Gregory nods encouragingly at her statue-still form. “He’s on his way to a military base near Berlin, Germany. If all goes well, with debriefing, he can join us next week as we arrive in Berlin. We’re going to need another press conference and fast.” He shakes the paper toward her. “This last communication says he will call within the hour. Maybe sooner.”

The room erupted into motion and noise then. Everyone moving, shifting, and talking. Everyone except Robin, that is, who still couldn’t seem to move.

I can’t recall what words I said to her exactly, or when I stood up next to her, as well; but I distinctly remember understanding why my Uncle Gregory had invited the press to witness this announcement—because now the world would witness this emotional reveal and re-visit the story so Robin, when she divorced me would have public sympathy and understanding. Hell it was all probably going off live, right along with all of us, which made my heart feel heavier and heavier because I wanted to shout for someone to turn off the cameras, but…at this point causing a scene in the middle of an unfolding scene wasn’t going to change anything, or get anyone to turn off their cameras.

I also can’t remember when this constant shuddering overtook Robin’s whole body, but I think it was the same time the same kind of horrible shudders overtook mine.

I remember her face going from shock to relief, and how her breathing stopped momentarily as the whole room started cheering. Her eyes had met mine and had gone double-wide as we connected, and I could sense she could already imagine her father here in the room with us. Somehow in that blip of time her lashes had loaded so heavy with crystalline water droplets that with her first full breath, and her first blink, her lightly freckled cheeks were instantly soaked in tears, as her face crumpled into both cries of joy, body-wracking sobs, and amazed-laughter all at once.

I also remember how she couldn’t hide one feeling crossing her face from any of us—how she made us all touch and taste—feel every bit of the incredible strength and bravery she’d been fronting these past months. Even more incredible, now that it had been suddenly stripped off, we all were face-punch reminded that underneath it all, Robin was only this girl made up of glass. One who, all along has been so breakable—too vulnerable—so frightened and so alone.

I remember that’s when I pulled myself together and crossed gazes with my grandmother and Uncle Gregory, Adam and Evie, Hunter and Vere—and the looks we shared said we were warm and satisfied. Secure in the knowledge that we had stepped in and had managed to keep Robin and Sage safe and unbroken—despite all of this crazy we’d surrounded them with.

Which is why, when she’d choked out the words, “Thank you. Everyone, thank you so much for helping us.” We all teared up big-time, too.

But…above all, I’ll always remember how empty my hand felt when Robin released it to run to her little brother who had crumpled onto his knees, as his own choking, gasping cries of relief had filled the room.