The entire venue seemed to have morphed overnight into a makeshift shrine to us. Paper flyers flapped in the lightest of breezes making the walls seemed unsettlingly alive.

"Bit of overkill, yeah?" Jules observed.

"From the Wreckage," Hudson read. "The new sound of rock and roll."

"It's a touch... grandiose," added Niall, the King of all Understatement.

I shook my head. Last night's show had already gone viral and the crowd that clamored outside of the Sound Garden had nearly tripled from last night's numbers. One of the security guards spilled the beans about the scalpers selling tickets for five times the face value and a number of flyers screaming our Messianic status as the saviors of rock and roll was approaching fire hazard levels.

"This is too much," I groaned.

Jules clapped me on the shoulders, wisely steering me away from the wall-of-praise. "Don't fret, old man," he teased. "All we gotta do is fuck up royally tonight and it'll take the pressure right off again."

"Hey!" protested Hudson as Niall glared.

Jules held up his hands to ward them off. "Hey now don't worry. I'm not planning on sucking. I'm planning on rocking their faces off, just like I always do." He slapped Hudson hard on the shoulder. "I'm just offering it up as an option for Ewan the Pessimist over here. He doesn't like it when things go well."

"I'm fine with things going well," I said, turning to plead with them. "But don't you think this hype is too much too fast? Don't you think it's getting a little out of control?"

Niall and Jules fell silent, but Hudson gave a little grunt of disagreement. "Yeah but no," he drawled. "My theory is that things happen at exactly the speed they're supposed to."

Jules patted Hudson patronizingly. "Listen to the Buddha of Queens over here."

I tried and failed to unclench my jaw. "I don't know."

"Well fuck." Hudson blew out an exasperated breath. "If you don't believe me, talk to your girl, C." I gaped at him as he turned slowly, looking at each of us in turn with his hands spread. "I mean, how fast is that going, right? And I'm sure you'd think it's going at the right pace. Maybe," he raised a pointed eyebrow. "You even think it's going too slowly?"

"Fuck off," I sighed with a short laugh.

He shrugged. "Okay so don't talk about that. But maybe ask her how quick these hype trains get going and how sustainable they are. She's in the business, she'd know."

I cocked my head and stared at him. "For a dumb American, you're pretty smart."

He grinned that dazzlingly white grin. "Smarter than I look," he agreed.

I pulled my phone from my pocket. Right now she'd still be at work and probably would be right up until the show. So I dialed her desk phone first.

Her perky, recorded voice picked up after the fifth ring. "Hi! You've reached Celia Gilbert at Anthem Records." I narrowed my eyes and hung up. She was probably moving around, maybe in a meeting or something. I flipped over to send her a text. "Craziness," I wrote. "Call me?"

Shoving the phone in my pocket, I tried to think of anything else, but the flapping of the flyers on the wall was like the waving of a warning flag. I pulled my phone out and saw she hadn't replied yet. This time I dialed her cell number.

When it went to voicemail, I hung up and immediately dialed again. I had no idea why, but it was suddenly immensely important that I hear her voice. Right now.

After the fourth ring, I thought her voicemail had picked up again, but the message never came. I strained my ears and thought I heard the faint sound of breathing. "CeCe?" I asked.

"Yeah." Her voice was muffled and odd sounding.

"Hey, love."

"Hey."

I swallowed. "Sorry, I called your desk first. Thought you might be on your way over. You on your way?"

She was silent for so long I thought I'd dropped the call. "Celia?"

"I got caught up at work," she finally replied.

I paused for a second. "Oh."

"Yeah."

"You're there now?"

"Yeah."

"So..." I was having a hard time piecing this together. "You're not coming tonight?"

Her voice was so small I could barely hear her. "They found out, Ewan."

My heart thudded in my throat. "Who? Found out what?"

Her breath caught and a little sob escaped. "Who I am."

Suddenly everything clicked into place. "Celia? What happened?"

"Work. They know my last name now." She took a deep, hitching breath and her voice got louder. "Exactly what I was terrified would happen if people found out we were together, Ewan. It happened."

"Celia." Panic was making my voice louder. "So somebody found out you weren't who you said you were. It doesn't matter, does it love?"

"Yes," she hissed. "It does. It matters to me."

My fingers gripped the phone so tightly but I still felt like she was slipping away. "Celia listen to me. I don't give a shit about your last name. It doesn't matter if you're Celia Gilbert or Celia Silver. Whoever you are, fuck, whoever you want to be? I love you."

The quiet stretched out. I strained to hear her over the sound of the preparations around me, the banging and yelling of the stage crew. I slammed my hand over my other ear. "Celia?" I begged.

Her voice choked. "I'm sorry Ewan," she said and it sounded like she was saying goodbye.

When the line went dead, so did my heart. An unseen door opened, sending all the flyers fluttering like mad.

"Fuck!" I shouted and rushed to tear them down.

"Ewan?" Jules called, sounding frightened as I ripped and shredded the flyers, tearing them into little bits that fluttered like confetti in the air. "Have you gone fucking mental? What the fuck are you doing, mate?"

"It's too fast!" I shouted, looking around at the walls, the hype, the show CeCe wouldn't be coming to. "The deal is off. I can't fucking do this," I declared, suddenly exhausted. And with that, I walked out the door.