The sedan turned into the Bellagio Hotel and Casino and rolled into the circular drive.
“He leaves for Seattle tomorrow,” Evelyn said. “The show’s a big one. The executives from the Helping Hands charity will be there, and they’re bringing a bunch of kids backstage. Miller’s invitation. I’ll be gone by the end of the week.”
She gathered her bag and phone and tossed on a pair of Gucci sunglasses to hide the tears in her eyes. “Make sure it’s his last show.”
Evelyn led me into the Bellagio casino, past the lobby where a thousand glass flowers covered the ceiling in a riot of color. Their beauty calmed the turbulent emotions coursing through me. I stared up as long as I could while Evelyn strode briskly, unimpressed. She looked like she belonged in the elegance of the hotel, while I felt unwashed and grubby.
“She’s with me,” she told the guard at a private elevator who let us on. The car went up and opened on a broad, quiet hallway.
“I feel like the paparazzi is going to jump out at any second,” I said as we walked past door after door.
“We have the entire floor.” Evelyn stopped at a suite where a big guy with a badge hanging from his beefy neck was standing. “Hey, Sam.”
“What’s up, G?” He gave me a nod as he opened the door for us.
I nodded back, amazed at how much the label had built around Miller: private elevators and security and entire floors of swanky hotels. Pride swelled in my chest, even as I felt more out of place and unsure that he’d want me here.
The suite Evelyn led me through was huge, twice as big as my and Veronica’s apartment, with elegant furniture, like a royal sitting room in Italy. A tall man in a suit—a stethoscope looped around his neck—stood at the bay window. Miller sat on the ledge.
There he is.
I stopped in the middle of the room, watching him. Drinking him in. He looked tired, a little thinner than he did on the Rolling Stone cover. The doctor had a blood pressure cuff around Miller’s upper arm, taking a reading.
Miller saw me, and his expression froze. He stood up, as if he were pulled by strings, and stepped toward
me, yanked the pump from the doctor’s hand.
“Vi…what are you doing here?”
His gruff voice went straight to my heart. It had been months since I’d heard him say my name in person.
“Evelyn called me,” I said, tears filling my eyes. “It’s so good to see you.”
“God, baby…” He started toward me, then stopped, also realizing we had an audience. He tore the blood pressure cuff off his arm and handed it to the doctor. “Can you guys give us a minute?”
“I’ll be back in one hour to finish the check-up,” the doctor said sternly.
“I have an urgent matter to discuss with you, too,” Evelyn said, giving me a parting glance, asking me to let her tell him the truth.
When they’d gone, Miller took me in his arms and I collapsed into them, my eyes falling shut with relief to feel the solidity of him and hear his heart beating against my cheek.
“Vi, you have midterms. Why did you leave Baylor?”
“You think I wouldn’t? I love you, Miller. And you collapsed after the show. Evelyn says you need to quit the tour.”
He stiffened and gently released me. “I see. She called you and got you all scared, so you dropped everything to be here. She shouldn’t have done that.”
“Your health is more important than my school or your concert.”
“My health isn’t going to change, Vi. It’s always been this hard, and it’s going to stay that way. Quitting the tour won’t change that, but it will disappoint a shit-ton of people who have paid to hear me. The people who put me up in fancy hotels like this and let me take care of my mom. And you.”
“You need to slow down, love. Before something happens.”
“I can’t,” he said, dropping his head so that we were forehead to forehead. “There’s too much at stake.”
“Too much pressure on you,” I corrected. I cupped his cheek, feeling the stubble under my hand, my eyes searching his. “Do you still think you haven’t earned this?”
“You read that magazine article. I knew I said too much.”