Kara refuses to return my phone. For my own good, supposedly. She arranges everything with Tom. He's set to arrive at eleven a.m.

I sleep in fits. Come morning, I'm too nervous to do much more than brush my teeth, shower, and dress. Of course, I manage to pick out a particularly low cut top and short skirt combination, so I'm not that out of it.

Drew makes coffee and breakfast. Scrambled eggs with vegetables. They have a taste. Mostly hot sauce, but it's something. The coffee too. I can smell it. It's nutty, robust, bitter. I fix it with sugar and almond milk until it's sweet.

Kara distracts me with another round of Crash Team Racing while Drew sulks in his room. Or sharpens his blade. Or prepares some plan to kill Tom and get away with it. There's no telling what my brother is doing.

I give up on the game at a quarter to eleven. The minutes pass slowly. My skin is flushed, slick with sweat. It's summer in Los Angeles. Warm. But not warm enough to justify this.

The doorbell rings.

That must be him.

I remind myself to breathe. In. Out. Easy. No big deal.

Drew descends the stairs with a serious look on his face. He motions for us to stay then answers the door.

Sure enough, Tom is standing there. He looks normal in jeans and a t-shirt, his sunglasses pulling down the v of his v-neck.

He doesn't wait for Drew's response. "Do whatever you have to do. Hit me. Declare you're never speaking to me again. Hand me the paperwork your lawyer drew up about quitting the band. I don't care. I'm not here for you. I'm here for Willow."

"I'm not going to hit you." Drew's voice is calm, unreadable.

Tom stares back, tapping his fingers against his thigh impatiently.

Drew presses his hand against the doorframe, blocking my view of Tom. "Doesn't mean I'm going to let you make my sister cry again."

"Last thing I want is to hurt her."

I can't see Tom but his voice is sweet, earnest.

"Intentions aren't always good enough," Drew says.

"If we're gonna have this conversation, let's do it privately," Tom says.

Drew looks back to me as if to ask my permission. When I nod, he steps outside and closes the door behind him.

Kara plays with her cell phone with a not quite calm expression. "I haven't been this nervous in forever. Are you okay?"

I nod.

She unlocks her cell phone and navigates to the browser. "I probably shouldn't show you this, but—"

She's interrupted by the door opening. Drew steps back inside.

He looks at me. "Do what you want to do, Wil."

Kara hides her phone and makes eye contact with Drew. "You shouldn't phrase that like she has to earn your permission."

"No, it's fine," I say. I asked Drew to be my first line of defense. He's only doing as I ask. "I'll see you guys later."

"You need anything?" Drew asks.

I shake my head.

He hugs me on my way out the door.

And then I'm outside, and the door is shut, and Tom is staring at me with the most intense expression.

He smells good. Every impulse in my body tells me to wrap my arms around him. Somehow, I resist.

"How is your mom?" I ask.

"Great. Pete's treating her like a queen. You okay?"

I shake my head. "Whatever you're going to say, can we get it over with? I'm not in the mood for anticipation."

He reaches out to touch me but stops himself. "I want to show you something first. It's important. It will only take twenty minutes to get there."

His expression is earnest enough that I believe him. Okay. I've come this far. I can survive another twenty minutes.

Tom pulls his car keys from his pocket and offers them to me. "You have a license?"

"Yeah, but it's been a while."

"You want to drive her? She's a lot of fun."

"I guess so." I take the keys, slide into the driver's seat, and turn the car on.

"Got you something." Tom reaches into the glove box and pulls out a pair of women's sunglasses. He hands them to me. "You'll need them if you decide to stay in Los Angeles. It's bright as hell here."

"Thank you." They're nice shades. Designer. A black frame with a slight cat eye. Grey lenses. I slide them on and check my reflection. Not bad. I almost pull off rock star girlfriend. But then I shouldn't get ahead of myself.

* * *

Tom directs me south on a street that runs parallel to the ocean. By the time he tells me to leave the main drag, I have the hang of driving.

He points to a parking space in front of a small white and grey apartment complex. We're a few blocks from the beach, close enough to hear the waves and smell the salt. There's beautiful soft light everywhere. And the ocean seems to go for miles.

"It's through here." Tom leads me to a door marked Three. He takes back the keys and uses one of them to unlock the door.

Okay. We're going into a strange apartment. It's not his. He lives in Hollywood. What the hell is he trying to show me?

It's a beautiful place. Light streams through the wide-open windows. There's a small kitchen along the wall. A bed, a couch, a dresser, a changing screen in the back.

And there's photography equipment. A tripod. A lighting kit. Gold and silver bouncers. Stands. There must be a few thousand dollars worth of accessories here.

"What is this?" I ask.

"It's your photo studio."

"I can't afford this."

"The lease is paid for the next twelve months. If you don't want it, ignore it. But it's yours." He takes the key off the ring and hands it to me.

It's sharp edges press against my palm. I meet his gaze. "I don't even know if I want to run my own studio."

"Yes, you do. You get this look of excitement in your eyes whenever you talk about it. Whenever you look at your photos. You can think whatever you want about me, kid. But I'm not going to watch you run away from your ambition." He stares back at me. "You deserve the world. This is the least I can do."

"I can't take your money."

"Then consider it a payment."

"For what?"

"I need your help with something."

Sounds implausible. I take a deep breath. "What?"

He pulls his cell phone from his pocket. "You told me to spin the story as the truth."

I nod.

"That's what I did." He taps the screen a few times and hands the phone to me.

It's the same gossip site but the headline is totally different.

Tom Steele Confirms Identity of the Mystery Girl and He's Madly in Love.

What?

Madly in love.

With me.

My heartbeat picks up until it's the only thing I can hear.

"Keep going, gets better," he says.

I do.

There's a picture. A selfie Tom took. From his gorgeous green eyes to the jut of his hipbone. Only.

No.

There's fresh ink on his hipbone. A single word.

Willow.

My hands are so sweaty I nearly drop the phone.

"Miles did it first, but he got his on his chest. Figured this was the best way to one up him."

I stare back at Tom. "You... You didn't."

He nods, unbuttons his jeans, and pulls them down low enough to reveal the ink. There it is, in curving black letters. My name. On his body. Forever.

"Tom." I set the phone on the windowsill before I break the damn thing. "I..."

"I love you, Willow. Took me a while to figure out what that meant, two people loving each other, but I'm sure." He slides his arms around my waist. "Now I need your help making sure the whole world knows it."

"How?"

He points to the camera poking out of my purse.

"And you're paying me for this service with a year of studio rent?" I ask.

"Unless you demand two years." He pulls me closer.

"No, one year is plenty." My laugh is nervous. He loves me. I tug at his jeans. "Show me again."

He does.

I trace the letters with my fingertip.

Tom runs his hand through my hair and looks me in the eyes. "I hope you're okay with the whole world thinking you're my girlfriend."

"As long as the whole world knows you're my boyfriend."

He nods and presses his lips into mine. The world shifts into focus. Everything is easy. Light. Perfect.

Then he pulls back and he brings his mouth to my ear.

"I love you," he whispers.

And somehow the world gets better.

I whisper back. "I love you too."

He teases. "How can I be sure you're not saying that because you want to get into my pants?"

"You can ask me again after I'm done with you."

He takes my hand and leads me to the bed. "I can arrange that." Tom does away with his t-shirt as he pulls me into the bed.

His lips go to mine. It's like all the kisses before it but it's better in every way. Feelings pour between us. Love. Affection. Tenderness.

I've got no patience. I need our bodies joining. I need this love pouring between us with nothing in the way. No clothes. No deceit. No holding back our feelings.

I pull off my tank top and do away with my bra. Tom responds with the same eagerness. Kissing my lips, my neck, my chest.

He pulls my underwear to my knees and runs his fingertips over me. It's too much. I'm already sensitive. And I need him. All of him.

I push his jeans and boxers off his hips. Then they're at his feet and my hand is tracing the lines of that tattoo again and again.

That's a lot to live up to. But I'm game to try.

I spread my knees. "Please."

He groans as he slides into me. I'm home. Every time we've been together has been amazing, but it's never been like this.

We move together, arching and groaning and thrusting together. Our lips lock and we kiss hard and deep. In no time at all, an orgasm races up inside me. I hold him close, groaning his name again and again as I come.

It's beautiful, watching pleasure spread over his face. Better now that he's mine. After a few more thrusts, he's coming, moaning against my skin as he fills me.

Tom stays on top of me, inside me. God, it feels right, our bodies together.

I stare up into his eyes. This is everything. "I still love you."

He smiles. "You just came. I'm not sure your word is trustworthy."

"Guess you'll have to try again later."

"I have plans to make you come again later."

"Tomorrow?"

"You're definitely coming tomorrow."

"The next day?"

"Every day for the rest of our lives."

A smile spreads across my lips. "I love you so much."

He runs his fingertips over my jaw line. "I love you too."