I’d been holding my breath for just about the entire three-and-a-half-minute long song. The first breath I took as the crowd erupted in applause burned down my lungs as my diaphragm remembered it had a job to do and set about oxygenating my blood again. Rosie had literally taken my breath away from me.

I’d hoped that she felt the same way I did, that this was all more than a fling to her, but I never could have imagined that she’d express her feelings like this. She wrote that song, and prepared to sing it, before she knew if we’d work out. Last night and during the day today when I was stuffing my face with carbohydrates and wrestling over calling her, she was composing a piece of art that bared her soul. She really was the bravest person I knew.

Rebecca excused herself from the table, saying something about wanting to talk to Calvin Ross, but I barely registered her exit. I was staring at Rosie, unable to look away. But so was everybody else in the room.

It took a good three or four minutes for the applause to die down enough for her to take her final bow. Rosie’s set—the set she’d had to double on the fly—was finally over. I could see from her face that she was ready to be off the stage.

Rosie stepped down from the stage only to be immediately mobbed by people that had formerly been strangers and were now fans. As always, her face was composed and pleasant as she greeted them, but I could see she was shocked that people wanted to meet her, talk to her, touch her. She was going to need to get used to that. She was going to need to get very, very used to that. Soon, it would be her whole life.

But I certainly wasn’t used to it, and I definitely didn’t appreciate so many men getting so close to her. I didn’t care if they were merely fans, they were way to close to my Rosie. Sharing her with them was not an option. My shock faded just in time to be replaced with a flood of jealousy. Rosie’s eyes met mine across the crowd and I saw a flash of concern. I made for the steps to the stage and wrapped a protective arm around Rosie.

“We need to get you out of here,” I whispered in her ear.

Rosie nodded and sagged against my side. Now that I was up closer, I could see that she was overwhelmed by all the attention. She’d done the impossible tonight, and I was incredibly proud of her. But now, it was time to get her the hell out of this room and somewhere she could rest.

For the first time in ever, I was relieved to see Victoria. She cut an imposing figure through the crowd. Even late, her fans were excited to see her. Victoria, Ian, and the other members of the band now named ‘Kilonova’ (which I also hated, for the record), arrived just in time to disperse the crowd around Rosie and provide the distraction I needed. I nodded at Ian who saluted me with one of his drumsticks as he passed me on the stairs. Then, I was pulling Rosie out onto the Lone Star Lounge’s patio, where it was quieter, and we could actually talk.

“How do you feel?” I asked her.

She was actually vibrating with excitement. A few strands of hair had escaped her high bun, and they were quivering around her face. Her eyes were huge. “Like I just ran a marathon and could go run another one.”

“Sounds like a runner’s high.” I remarked. All adrenaline. Soon it would wear off and she’d be exhausted. She’d be even more exhausted tomorrow as her body tried to replace what it had given away on stage.

“Whatever it is,” she said, leaning up on her tiptoes so she was nose-to-nose with me, “it feels pretty good.” Her eyes glittered under the multicolored fairy lights that were strung around the patio. “I feel like I could fly.”

I kissed her. It was the only logical thing to do. Rosie’s lips were soft and yielding under my own, and she pressed her body close. My heart started to pound. We needed to get out of here and back to my place, or hers. Or the car. But we needed to be alone. Immediately.

There was still a lot we needed to say. Issues we needed to work out. We needed work if we were going to work. But at the moment, the only work I could think about was the labor of peeling Rosie out of her outfit and tossing her into my bed. We could figure out the rest later.

The sound of commotion and shouting from the other room distracted us. Rebecca exploded out the door from the main room.

“There’s a man having a heart attack! He’s unconscious. Is there a doctor out here? He needs a doctor.” Her voice was a desperate, plaintive noise that cut through the conversations around us and rendered the whole patio silent.

She glanced my way and we exchanged a look that communicated volumes in the blink of an eye.

Oh no. Anything but that.