She began giggling at my joke.
“So, what do you say? Can we maybe try that hug again?” I reached down and made a show of pulling my heels off and dropping them one by one to the ground beside me. Squatting down like a baseball catcher, I motioned for her to come at me. I braced myself as she rushed in my direction then slammed into my arms a second time. I took a deep breath, holding her tight as she giggled.
Stewart’s loafers moved into my periphery. “Levee, we need to go,” he ordered.
Morgan began to release me at his words, but I squeezed her even tighter. “Nope. Not done yet.”
She was amused by my joke, but I was pissed the hell off that Stewart had had the audacity to interrupt that moment.
“Guess what? I think I have some special surprises in the back.”
Her eyes lit up.
“Can you give me, like, one minute? I’ll see if I can find them.” I gently guided her away while I pushed myself upright.
She nodded excitedly, backing to her mother.
I followed Stewart toward the room the hospital had set up for us. Loud groans of disappointment started to rumble through the crowd as I left.
“I’ll be right back. I promise,” I announced, which earned me a loud cheer from the group.
“You won’t be right back! You’re already three hours late,” Stewart grumbled.
“Well, I’m going to be a hell of a lot later than that too, because I’m not leaving here until I’ve seen everyone,” I whispered out of the side of my mouth. I gave the group one more wave as Devon ushered me into the room, closing the door behind us.
“Come on, Levee. Don’t make me the bad guy. In less than an hour, you have a VIP meet-and-greet. I understand your dedication to being here, and it’s great. Good for your heart, good publicity. Win. Win.”
I rolled my eyes. I wasn’t there because of publicity. I had plenty of that.
I was there because it was what I did.
Where I felt comfortable.
Where I was happy.
Where I had once been crushed.
But, ultimately, the only place I felt like I needed to be.
“Levee, you have hundreds of fans who paid for the VIP treatment. If you aren’t there, it’s not exactly VIP, now is it?”
“You know I can’t leave,” I snarled.
I hated Stewart, but it wasn’t because he was an asshole. He was just doing his job. I paid him thousands of dollars to make sure my life ran smoothly. And for all intents and purposes, he was good at what he did.
But that didn’t mean I liked having absolutely zero control over my life, including something as simple as time.
“Levee, what about all the people who waited in line for hours to meet you? What about the parents who’ve scrounged and saved in order to buy the four-hundred-and-fifty-dollar tickets? That’s not exactly pocket change. What about the guy who’s planning to propose? All of that has been set up way in advance. I get it. I swear to Christ I do. I let you stay an extra three hours, but if someone doesn’t show up at that venue in the next hour, it’s going to be a mess.”
I nervously chewed on my bottom lip. He wasn’t telling me anything I didn’t know. I’d signed the contracts for three concerts and three meet-and-greets. It had been heavily promoted as my big homecoming since I hadn’t been back to perform in San Francisco in over three years. It was my last stop before closing out my tour with a live television event in Los Angeles the following week.
I’d known ahead of time that a man had paid a large chunk of money in order to surprise his (hopefully) soon-to-be bride by proposing beside her favorite singer. And then there was the little girl with leukemia waiting there as well. I had personally sent her tickets the month before. There was also the Olympic gold medal swim team that had recently suffered the loss of one of their teammates. They’d used my song “The Belief” as her dedication on social media. I’d mailed those tickets as well.
They were all there.
Waiting.