London

Rowan, A week later, London

"I don't like being kidnapped at airports by thugs," I complain.

Said thug has me by the hand and we're literally speed-walking through Heathrow, chased by a few of his fans. Christ, they act like DevBlue is a Beatle. He loves the adoration. He's tossing stunning smiles over his shoulder. At his fans of course. He gives me an exasperated jerk of the head and says, "Leggit, slow coach."

Now I'm jogging. Through Heathrow. I don't jog.

I toss a hapless glance over my shoulder to AJ and give him the all good signal. He knows Dev so he's not really worried. He's keeping pace behind us, apparently effortlessly.

By the time Dev hurtles us into a waiting limo, I'm more than a little irritated. And sweating. My twin is waiting double fisted, but looking out the rearview.

"Okay we can go," she tells the driver. "Row's security just hopped in the car behind with the guys and Stephen.."

Stephen is one of Bridge's security. Dev travels with a posse. I doubt any of them are actually paid except in perks, but they are all his boys. Always ready to rumble on his behalf.

"Sip this," she says, handing me a water bottle. "Now drink this," she replaces the water bottle with a flute of champagne. "Because we're celebrating!" she says brightly.

"Cheers!" i say brightly, clinking glasses with her. "Here's to...whatever you think we are celebrating!" I down the champagne, I press the call button. "Stop, please, party's over and I have a flight to catch..."

"Drive on, man!" Dev tells the driver. "No worries lovey, there will be more flights tomorrow. But tonight will never come again!" He winks as he mixes his signature drink.

Bridge is giving me praying hands. She knows I'm two seconds from pitching a goddamn fit and insisting the stop the car. The only reason I ran through the airport with Dev was just to see my sister, since we were passing ships at the airport. She coming in to spend the weekend with Dev, and I on my way back home after my hand treatment.

"Come out with us tonight," she pleads. "You can leave in the morning..."

"But it's the good flight," I whine. "The direct one. I can sleep the whole way through."

"Alright, Granny," Dev snickers at me. I aim my point boot at his shin. "Oi!" he yells as he escapes injury just in time.

"Riley—"

"Won't mind," Bridge says.

"'Course not, but never say I'm not one for civilities. Let's ring him up, shall we?" Dev thumbs on his phone.

"Wotcher cock." That's Riley; Dev has him on speakerphone.

They do this ridiculous thing where they act like London fuckboys.

"Oi! What about lending the Bird and I your Dutch for the night?"

"Ah. You're havin' it large?"

"Oh, you know...just 'round the manor..."

"What's she say, then?"

"She's in a right two 'n eight to get to you, she is."

Riley chuckles. "She on?"

Dev tips the phone to me. "Well? Do your bit, love..."

"Oh. I'm supposed to participate in this conversation?" I smile. "That's a little hard, since I have no idea what you two have said."

"They do it on purpose," Bridge agrees, legs crossed and flute in hand.

"They've kidnapped me," I tell him. "I'm in the trunk of the limo."

"Gercha!" Dev says. "She raced me to the car!"

"You should stay, Row. Have a night out. Go dancing," Riley suggests with a little too much enthusiasm.

"Or I could come home, and we could dance in the pool at sunrise," I suggest.

"We'll do that. Day after tomorrow, if you want to stay the weekend with Dev and Bridge."

"Stay," Bridge smiles at me. "It's been too long."

"I didn't bring anything to wear out..."

Bridge gives me a disgusted look to indicate I can borrow something. I roll my eyes at her because we don't share the same taste. She shrugs to let me know a pair of black jeans is a pair of black jeans. I bite my lips. No way can I fill out the booty in her jeans. Bridge tilts her head in agreement and presses the button for the driver. "King's Road please."

"What's that?" Riley says.

Dev is chewing on a bar straw, having finished his gin. "One of their silent gabs. Upshot being she's staying, we're shopping and that leaves me on my best behavior then."

"Goddamn right you are," There's a hint of warning in Riley's tone.

"Naff off," Dev drawls. He holds the phone out to me. "Give your kisses then..."

"You really don't mind?" I ask him. This was supposed to be a quick trip, but if I stay the weekend I will have been gone four days. He's had the caregiver back for driving him around, and Linda for cooking but other than that he's on his own.

"Not at all," he says. "Some twin time will be fun for you."

I take the phone from Dev and make the call private. For Riley at least.

"I miss you," I say.

"Noooo. Not much to miss, is there?" He's all stiff upper lip after a ninety second conversation with Dev.

"I miss you," I repeat softly, refusing to let him get away with it.

"I miss you, too," he says quietly. "It's a bit strange, isn't it? I mean, we're used to long distance. It shouldn't feel this...much."

"So I should come home?"

"No," he says decidedly. "You should have a good time. Just...try not to overdo it, alright? You're a bit out of practice with the club scene..."

I guess Bridge can make a pretty good guess from my face what Riley is saying. She rolls her eyes and pulls the phone from me and puts it back on speakerphone. "Riley, you don't have to worry. She's with me."

"Yeah, but you're with him," Riley tells her.

"Sod off," she teases him.

"That hurts, Bridge. Not my feelings. My ears. That's a terrible accent you're feigning..."

"Good-bye, Riley!" She yells.

"Good-bye, love. Devlin—"

"Keep your pecker up!" Dev tosses out as a closing.

I know it's just an expression—the equivalent to "keep your chin up"—but I have a hard time not wincing as Riley grimly says, "Right. Do us all a favor? Don't get steaming drunk and go in for any aggro tonight—"

"Wouldn't dream of it, Old Chap. Tonight I'm strictly a ladies man. I'll have one on each arm, won't I?"

"You'll have more than you can handle," Riley tells him.

Dev snorts but I take the phone again, making the call private again.

"Don't worry about me. I'll be fine. Enjoy your evening." I hope maybe he'll relax. But not too much. "Riley...you won't get in the pool alone, will you?"

"The world is upside down. You're going clubbing with Dev and you're worried about me?"

I sigh. "Riley—"

"Kidding. I'll be doing what I already planned...working..."

I hear the dread in his voice. Riley used to love his work, but since he's been hurt, the job has changed for him. All the glamorous, active stuff—the being with the band stuff—is gone. At least for now. Marley and Ari are handling that. He's stuck with the boring details and the complex strategizing. All the hard work without any of the fun.

"Don't work too hard."

"Literally not possible."

"Okay. Don't work too long, then."

"I won't. Rowan..." he stops. He sighs. I guess he was about to warn me again about the club scene and the drugs, but he stops himself. "Listen, I haven't said this and it's perhaps not the best time but then again, I can't think of a better, either..." there's a long pause, then he says, "I trust you. I truly want you to have a good time. You deserve a night out."

What he says steals my air. I feel it leave in an explosive gasp. In that lapse of breathing, I am flooded with love for him. Then my body remembers it cannot live on love alone and I take a deep breath.

"I fucking love you," I whisper.

"The feeling is mutual, I assure you," he murmurs.

"Alright, alright, Row. Let us be sensational, not sentimental..." Dev teases, having caught a drift that my conversation with Riley is turning tender.

"Tonight? We're savage," Bridge says decidely, pouring another glass of champagne for me.

"Save a dance for me, darling." Riley says as a good-bye.

"All the slow ones," I promise him.

#

In less than twenty minutes I have my club outfit selected. Dev laughs at how "indiscriminate" I am, but what's the big deal about picking out holey black jeans, a black crop top, a leather jacket and a pair of boots?

Bridge does no shopping except for a new shade of lipstick, having meticulously planned her weekend wardrobe, I'm sure. Dev uses the time we're in the store to makes his presence known to everyone in sight, weighing in loudly on my leather jacket selection—"more buckles, love—you can definitely carry off more metal"—and constantly pulling dresses off racks to plaster on my sister.

They aren't what you might expect. They are all modest, floral, and elegant. Things you see English well-to-do women wearing at polo matches.

"Bridget, we have that detestable thing in the spring, you know. Never too early to find the perfect attire. Do you like this one? Or perhaps the toile? Fuck it, Miss—let's have one of all the flowery ones sent to my flat. She can put on a show for me," he grins. "Give her your size, Birdy..."

He snaps his fingers and one of his posse comes forward, pulling his wallet to actually make that happen.

Bridget smiles serenely at the salesgirl. "There's no need. I'm sure I won't be attending. He always engineers a break-up between us before family events."

The girl looks disappointed as her commission disappears and Dev is massively annoyed with my twin for saying that. "That's not true. You always break up with me."

"Because you do something massively stupid."

He's unwrapping one of the chocolate bars at the register desk and munching it unhappily. I motion for the clerk to add it to my bill.

He leans against the desk and looks at my sister with an expression of tortured desire. "Dearest, it's devastating to me that your love is so...conditional."

"Equally devastating to me that you are so emotionally impaired," she says, putting on her new lipstick.

He pushes off the desk and edges her lipstick for her. "What you say is simply not true. This time, I swear, I'm completely committed to you. You are...the lady of my life, and my heart."

He ruins her lipstick by tipping her chin up and kissing her passionately. I hear camera phones clicking. I look around and realize it's Dev's on damn crew taking them. I guess that's part of their job...to hype him on social media.

"Can we go?" I say in irritation and walk toward the exit. I'm more exhausted from jet lag than truly irritated, but I don't want pictures of me showing up on gossip sights. We've been able to keep things surprisingly low key since Riley's accident. There were a few postings at first, of Riley and I coming and going from his PT. The predictable stories accompanied—that Riley's near death experience had brought us back together. Since the stories were in fact true, we didn't comment or deny. The paps can't make any money from selling the same picture of us over and over, so all interest in us faded more than a month ago.

The last thing I want is to be seen partying alone in London without Riley. The stories that follow will be equally predictable. I've gotten tired of playing nursemaid to an invalid, I've left him, I'm awful, he's miserable.

Normally I don't care what the press writes about me, but I feel very protective about us now. Riley endured a lot of speculation in the press about my relationship with Aidan, and he took it with complete stoicism. He never once gave the press any reason to feed that story. There were no public fights with me, no sour expressions, no exchanges with Aidan. Even when we were at our lowest point, he protected me and he protected the idea of us in the public eye. That always gave me hope. It made me think he was thinking long-term and still hoping we could work things out.

I guess that's why the divorce came as such as shock to me. Even then, Riley never publically commented. There was one statement issued and we never gave them anymore than that. I never gave any interviews either. I would end any press for the show that turned to that topic, despite the producers raising hell with me over it.

So even through our divorce, we protected each other's privacy. Now that we're back together, I don't want anything to rock our newly bailed boat.

On the limo ride to Dev's flat, Bridge and Dev continue to bicker about their relationship.

Dev is pouring us more champagne. "It's not true what you say, Bridge. I take you to family things. I took you to my Uncle's Cousin's Son's graduation party, did I not?"

"That doesn't count. The only reason you took me there was to make a spectacle of yourself by crashing the party. You threw one of the wait-staff in a fountain."

"Well is it my fault if all the Cavendishes are bloody rude and don't invite me? And I didn't mean to toss that waiter in the water. I mistook him for the son of a Marchioness that insulted me on Twitter," Dev sulks.

"The tray of canapes he was holding didn't give you a clue?" I laugh, accepting the champagne from him. I admire the bubbles and sip delicately. I notice how my sister holds the stem in the proper way and I wiggle my fingers down to mimic her elegant manners. I don't usually care about such things, but something about being around Dev and my twin could make anyone feel fancy.

"He wasn't that kind of waiter," Dev says. "I guess he was supposed to take coats or something. Bloody hot it was that evening. Especially for here, you know. No one came in coats. He was just standing there all dressed up looking bored and useless. Easy to see why I thought he was nobility," Dev grins.

Dev's flat is exactly what anyone who knew him would expect. It's prime real estate in London. On the banks of the Thames. One side is glass from floor to ceiling with a stunning view of downtown London. It's immaculately decorated in a modern way. It's entirely DevBlu and completely devoid of Dev's truer, more traditional character.

Oh. And it's trashed.

Well, it's in the process of being cleaned up by a housekeeper. His crew rolls in and starts making more catastrophe even as she's trying to clean. Bridget smiles at her and thanks her, but my twin is my mother made over. She has many wonderful characteristics and loving ways, but she doesn't have a domestic bone in her body. She doesn't cook, she doesn't clean. I used to be the same, but since I've been back living with Riley, I'm trying to be a little more aware about picking up and keeping things tidy.

While she goes to bathe and primp for our night out, I switch to beer, bullshit with Dev's peeps—some of whom might be amusing if they weren't such fucking slobs completely disregarding the mess they are making for Dev's housekeepr—and I shove a trashbag into Dev's hand.

"Either give that woman a raise—and an assistant—or fucking help her. I know you were raised to treat your staff better than this. " I say to him seriously. We certainly were, and we aren't British aristocracy.

He laughs as he holds the bag and I toss in the new batch of beer bottles that have immediately littered the place—his crew has downed an entire case in a matter of minutes.

"There are three things wrong with your ridiculous American ideas. First, I was raised in a flat by with a mum who cleaned it herself. Secondly, I was only allowed up to the hunting lodge growing up, and we quite roughed it up there. Just a housekeeper and one man who was a Johnny on the spot—butler, driver, kennel master, what ever was needed. Thirdly...you have watched way too much Downton Abby. My father and his legitimate family don't live like that. They're quite modern. The estate is mostly a museum, and they only keep one wing of personal apartments for visiting. They mostly live in London in flats not much more impressive than this. And it isn't always like this, is it Julie?" He gestures around to his lounging friends as he ties off the garbage sack.

"Just every other day," she says lightly as she knocks a guy's feet off a glass table to clean beneath them.

"She loves me, that one," he winks at me.

"I love the money you pay me, Dev. It beats strippin' to put me way through school."

He looks at her speculatively. "I suppose so, but sometimes I regret my little bargain. You were quite a talent on that pole."

I shove him. "Does Bridge know your housekeeper used to provide you...entertainment?" I hiss.

"Only in his mind," she says. "He never saw me dance. We met on the Underground at 4am. Some customers had followed me from the club and were giving me a bit of a hard time. I could've handled that lot but he went all lord of the manor on them. When that didn't work, he broke one of em's nose. Conked another with the fire extinguisher off the wall. Then two of 'em pulled knives and Lord Rap Star got more than he bargained for. We ran like loons through the train, jumped off. He bought me breakfast and I tied a bag of ice round his hand and he asked what my story was and the next night he came round to the club before the show and made me a job offer I couldn't refuse. It's why I work mostly evenings, you see. I'm at Uni all day. "

Dev shoves me back playfully. "She's going to cure cancer, but she's no fun at all. Why can't you go along with me when I tell my version of the story just once, Jules? This one's so much fun when she gets riled up." he shoves me back playfully.

I do manage to kick him in the shin and then I leave him holding the trashbag, while I change for our night out.

I finish out my don't-mess-with-me outfit with serious black eyeliner and mascara and nude lips. I look halfway between biker bounty hunter chic and hot zombie, but that's my goal. I just want to kick it tonight, I'm not looking for male attention.

Bridget, on the other hand, is definitely aiming to keep Dev's eyes on her. She's wearing a long-sleeve but dangerously short black sequined dress that hugs her ample curves. It has lines of gold and copper sequins vee-ing dramatically down the front. She's wearing thigh high black suede boots and she's also sporting a long false ponytail which substitues for her missing mane. Her makeup is elegantly dramatic but light. It leaves her with a sexy kitten look. She could have stepped right out of the Sixties.

Dev approves. When we head back to the living room with the guys, I notice he can't take his eyes off her, but he doesn't make any rude or outrageous comments, either. He simply offers her one last drink for the road and says quietly, "You look fantastic, Bridget. Absolutely stunning."

She gives him a fond smile and a cool appraisal. He's dressed like me—dark jeans and leather. "You look very handsome, Dev."

She's right, it doesn't matter what Dev wears. He would look handsome in a burlap sack. I suck my beer to hide my smile. Sometimes they are so freakin' cute together, with their elegant manners. I wonder if Dev will ever get his shit together and figure out how to marry his music to his obvious need to be a part of father's family. If he does, my twin might get the fairy tale she deserves.

#

Despite Riley's encouragement to do so, dancing at a club is not really what I do. I'm not my sister, I'm not Kat, I'm not Mac, and I'm not Leed. I don't bump and grind. I'm more like the chics from the nineties. I make sure to always have a drink in my hand on the dance floor as an excuse to prohibit serious dancing. I only bounce and sway slightly beside my sister sexy dances and Dev literally bites his knuckles and tries not to throw her down on the floor right there.

Occasionally Dev will swing away from her, grab me by my free hand and we'll sway and grin and head-bob at each other in a friendly way, but he figured out a long time ago, I'm not into the Twin Grind Fantasy Thing—not even drunk off my ass in a club.

Eventually even my enthusiasm for nodding my head while drinking a beer falls flat, and I make my way back to VIP. This is one of the hottest clubs in London, and I see a few other celebrities, but no one in my circle. I collapse on the couch with Dev's crew. One of them nudges me and dangles a tiny vial in front of my face.

"You look dead on your feet. Want a bump, then?"

I think about it for much longer than I should.

"No," I lie. "But thanks."

"Suit yourself, love," he grins. Then he leans in. "Standing offer. Dev says he's not messing it up this time. With your sister. That makes us all one big family. So whatever you want 'round here, you get. Just like the Lord and Lady..."

"Right," I smile at him. "Thanks, Cheddar."

I have no idea why they call him that. Maybe it has something to do with his cheesy pick-up lines, which he thankfully no longer tries on with me.

Suddenly I'm curious. "Does my sister...party like that? Here, with him."

Cheddar raises his eyebrows. "Dev would have our heads for exposing her to our...habits. Treats her like the Queen, he does. But...you and her...well...you are cut from different cloth, aren't you."

I grab the bottle of vodka from between his legs. "Leather and lace, you mean?"

He looks nervous. "I didn't mean no disrespect. I just thought...you know...you're a little more worldly than her, if you know what I mean..."

"Sure, I know, Cheddar. You're not even wrong," I watch my sister on the dance floor, so sexy yet still so graceful.

We share his bottle of vodka and talk shit with the rest of Dev's crew. These guys are a lot funnier when I'm drunk. I'm having a better time than I thought I would, but I don't realize how drunk I am until I make my way to the bathroom. The flashing lights in the club make it a little hard for me to keep my balance, but I manage to get to the bathroom hallway without incident. I laugh when I see the line to the ladies room and do what I always do in a time of real need: I head into the men's room.

The attendant tries to bar me and I keep walking as I tell him I'm leaving. "Oh yeah, sorry wrong room. I'll just go."

Piss, I mean. I slip right by him and into a stall.

I hear a chuckle. Apparently I have amused another patron of the bathroom. I sway a little as I pee, but I manage everything without catastrope as I listen to the quiet murmuring of British voice.s Someone talking to the attendant. Then quiet.

I check one last time to make sure I'm all buttoned up everywhere I should be, and stumble out of the stall.

Aidan Mosteller is waiting on the other side of the door. He's wearing his most dangerous smile.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," I stare at him. All six-foot—four of him.

"Thought that was you ignoring the attendant," he laughs. "I'd recognize your rejection anywhere."

I look down the long counter of body spray, deodorant, hair combs, and condoms. "Where did he go?"

"Oh. It seems the loo is out of order now." Aiden leans against the counter as I wash my hands.

"What the hell are you even doing here?" I mutter.

"What a way to greet your co-star, " he says breezily. "I live in London, remember. I could ask you the same thing, but I'm delighted you're here. It's been too long since we've hung out."

I laugh. "No, it hasn't."

I try to move around him, but he blocks me. "Row, come on. I'm tired of you treating me like a leper. You act like I'm some kind of depraved villain that forced himself on you." He takes a step closer. "You wanted me just as much as I wanted you."

I hate the way his body, his smell, his movements are all so familiar to me. I hate the way I used to find him so attractive. He's not wrong. I did. But it was just an infatuation and as soon as I actually acted on it, the horror and guilt and wrongness of what I did cracked that infatuation and it shattered like glass.

I take a step back from him. "I made a mistake. I guess maybe I never apologized to you, and maybe I owed you that much. I made a mistake, Aidan. I'm sorry. Can we just...let it go and get through it like professionals?"

He takes another step toward me and puts both hands on the sides of my neck. "Or maybe we don't let it go? Maybe we pick back up and keep it quiet?"

I jerk my head from his hands and shove him. "Don't fucking touch me."

He holds up his hands like surrender, but he's backing me into the bathroom and he's so large I can't get around him without touching him. "I heard you were back with your ex, but he's in a wheelchair. I mean, I get you feel sorry for him, but how does that even work?"

"I love him and he loves me, that's how it works."

He's tugging on the loose flaps on my leather jacket. "The sex, I mean," he says lightly. "Are you really going to spend your life with a guy who can't fuck you like you deserve? Seems like the least he could do is give you a free pass now and then-"

I punch him.

I never actually punched a guy with a big strong jaw like Aidan. Goddamn, my hand hurts. Well, at least the half of it I can feel really hurts. I think I broke it. What the fuck am I thinking? I came to London to fix my hand, not make it worse.

"Motherfuck," I hiss, putting my hand between my knees, trying to squeeze the pain from it. Aidan is rubbing his jaw and giving me an amused look. "Fuck!" I yell at him. "See what you did?"

I hold up my hand, but he lunges for me and pushes me against the wall. "Goddamn, you are the sexiest little bitch I've ever known," he growls, just before he tries to force his tongue in my mouth.

For a second, I'm kind of shocked. This is not really happening to me, right? I'm not the kind of chic that gets sexually assaulted. I'm the kind of chic that breaks beer bottles over the heads of cocksuckers that try this shit. But there are no fucking beer bottles in this bathroom.

I do the only think I can think. I reach down between his legs with my good hand , grab what I can, and squeeze as hard as I can.

His jeans are too thick to do him any real damage, but it's enough. He howls in pain and shoves me sideways away from him. My head hits the sturdy wooden stall, but I manage to slip by him. The best thing to do is get out of the fucking bathroom now.

"Fuck Row!" he yells at me. "I don't know why you have to act like such a cunt sometimes!"

I don't respond. I just get the hell out. I run smack into Dev at the end of the bathroom corridor.

"There you are, I've been looking all over—" He stops reading my face. Then he looks to my temple, and reaches a finger up into my hairline. I can see a bit of red on his fingers.

"You're bleeding, love."

Dev is not a guy to whom you confess this sort of thing. Especially if he's drunk, which he is. And especially if you like him enough to want him on the right side of prison bars, which I do. He's just too dangerous a mix of violence and valour.

"I'm so fucking drunk," I say. "I tripped and slammed into the wall. Is it bad?"

He pulls me back into the corridor to inspect. "Not really, but scalps bleed like a buggering."

I laugh, "Jesus, Dev..."

"Sorry, that was crude," he grins impishly. He stops a drunk chic wondering by with her bar glass and borrows her napkin. "Hold that there. If doesn't stop by the time we get the limo pulled round, we'll ring up my doctor friend who patches me up..."

He stops, staring past me. He watches as Aidan comes level with us. Aidan is not only a cocksucker, he's a dumb fuck because he stops, gives my head a quizzical look that is completely insincere. Jesus, he's usually a better actor than this. "It was good to see you, Row. Hope you're in a better mood on our promo tour."

He leans in to Dev. "Maybe you should take her to get that looked at. Drunk chics, huh? Absolute dangers to themselves."

Dev's face darkens in a way I've never seen. He looks positively...evil, though I know he's not. "Oh, she's not the danger here, Mate."

Aidan chuckles, raises his hands and eases around Dev. As he stumbles off, Dev rounds on me. I'm expecting the sort of interrogation Riley would give me, but it doesn't come. He just tucks an arm around me and says, "Alright love. Have we had enough for one night?"

"I have."

"Let's get you home then."

Bridge is so drunk that she's thankfully not overly invested in asking how I split my scalp. She's more interested in the possibility that I might  need my head shaved in order for the doctor to glue it together. She totally regrets shaving hers and envies my long hair. When we get back to Dev's flat, Cheddar, Dev and Terry make a big deal of plying me with a few more shots, because they insist they are going to staple my cut closed but it's all a big joke.

The shots are good because now I'm so drunk I don't feel my busted hand.

The least distinguished doctor I've ever met arrives in short order. He makes Cheddar and Dev hold my hair well out of the way while he seals the cut with medical glue. He dries the glue with a hair dryer while someone passes him and Dev more shots. Then he accepts a wad of cash and departs.

"Keep your phone handy," Dev calls after him down the hall, and all the guys laugh and joke about knocking over an all-night store just for fun.

I take a quick shower, and when I come out, Bridge is in her pajamas waiting for me in the bed where I'm supposed to sleep. She pats the place beside her. "Come on, we're having a sleep over."

"You're not staying in Dev's room?" I ask lightly.

They have an unusual romantic relationship. It's sexual, but he won't actually have intercourse with her, because she's technically a "penetration" virgin and he's kind of...in my opinion?...insultingly chauvinistic about it. He tells her he doesn't want to be the guy to "take" her virginity and mess her up, if he can't be the man she needs. He says she's waited this long, she might as well wait for her wedding night.

Marley says he's afraid of intimacy. I say fuck that, he needs to man up and give my sister what she wants. She's twenty four years old I think she's ready to have sex if she wants it. I like Dev, but sometimes I get really pissed off when Bridge tells me the things he says. He doesn't mind her on her knees giving him pleasure, he doesn't mind getting her off in a variety of ways, but he thinks he gets withhold her sexual experience like that?

I don't know, maybe I'm just more pissed about it lately because it's a sensitive subject in my own sex life right now. It's so hard for us to deal with Riley's physical issues. It takes a lot of vulnerability on Riley's part and sensitivity on mine to even talk about the problem and how we can work on it. This is not something I ever conceived of dealing with between us. Sex is a thing most healthy young people take completely for granted.

On the flip side, when I consider Dev and Bridge's situation, it seems to me like Dev is playing childish games.

"He and the guys left to go back to the club. They'll won't be back til dawn," she yawns. She climbs to her knees and cradles my head gently. "My poor sissy. I'm so sorry about your head."

Dev bailed on Bridge after being hot for her all night? He might not want to cross that last line, but he was definitely eager for some gratification.

No. If he's gone out again, This is really fucking bad. Dev is on a mission of mayhem.

And my sweet sister has no idea.

"Bridge...you don't think Dev would actually...hurt someone, do you? I mean if he got in like...a barfight or something?"

"Oh, you mean like that fucker Aidan Mosteller?" She says lightly. "Yeah, he went to kick the shit out of him. Don't worry. He doesn't usually get caught delivering a well deserved message. He and the boys will catch him somewhere without cameras. They'll wear masks and gloves."

Well, goddamn. My sweet sister is not so innocent after all, is she?

"Bridge, Dev can't do that."

She pulls my face up so that I'm looking into her face. "He absolutely can do that. No one hurts my sister."

I feel dizzy and sick. I fall back on the bed. I've been the victim of violence, so I'm not really down with it as a practice, you know?

At the same time...what is the alternative? Filing a police report? Telling Riley what happened? Filing a complaint against him with my producers?

No, that's not an option. This was totally not my fault, and Aidan is a drunk asshole that needs to learn not to push himself on women. I'm not risking Riley getting upset over this. And maybe I do want Aidan to think twice before ever touching me again.

Then I change my mind right back. No. I can't condone this. It would make me no better than the man who stole my song from me.

I call. "Goddammit, Dev. Get your ass back here."

"I'm sorry, I can't do that, love."

"Aidan is an asshole but he didn't actually hit me on purpose—"

"He put his hands on you, yes?"

"Yeah?"

"And you didn't want that?"

"No."

"Right, so we're doing this."

"Look, Aidan is a shitbag and yes, he assaulted me, but that doesn't mean you can kick the shit out of him—"

"Rowan, you are not the kind of woman that makes excuses for this kind of fuckery."

"I don't want Riley to find out what happened!" I hiss.

"Why?"

"Because...it will make him feel like...he wasn't there and even if he was..."

"He can't stand up for you."

"Yes. So you see?"

"I see he doesn't have to know. I also see that Riley is more than my manager. He's my friend. He's very nearly my...family. And right now? I'm his motherfucking proxy."

"Dev!"

"Oooh, got to go love, Shitbag's just leaving the club, we're on the job—"

"Don't mess up his face, we have a promo tour!" I hiss.

"We'll just hit him in the soft parts and make him think twice about ever touching you again...Oi! Cheddar! Look sharp, he's turning left!"

The line goes dead.

I throw my phone down and cover my face with a pillow. "Oh my god. Riley will flip his shit if Dev gets arrested and he learns why."

Even though my face is covered by a pillow I'm sort of aware that Bridge is turning the lights out and pulling the covers up over us. She draws the pillow away from my face and turns her phone onto some kind of disco app that makes glowly lights between us.

"Do you want to talk about what happened?" she says, reaching for my hand.

"I went into the men's room to pee. Aidan was in there. He payed the attendant to leave. I think he thought we might have a quick fuck or something. He talked shit about Riley and I punched him, but that actually got him even hotter. He backed me against a wall and stuck his tongue down my throat. I grabbed his balls and twisted. He shoved me off and I hit my head."

I can see her dark eyes. They are steady and unwavering. She knows I'm okay. I've been scared for my life before. A piece of shit like Aidan Mosteller doesn't scare me.

"He deserves what he's going to get," she says firmly.

"Not really. But I can't take the chance that something like this will happen again when Riley is around. He can't know about this Bridge. Promise me."

"Are you sure you want to keep it from him?"

"No, I don't want to keep it from him. But telling him is even worse. He said he trusted me...and then this happens."

"You did nothing wrong."

"I did," I whisper. "I cheated on my husband, and it just doesn't end. It keeps following me. It keeps hurting us."

"They won't really damage Aidan. He won't be able to prove a thing, but deep down, he'll know he deserved it. And he'll know to leave you alone."

I fight back tears. "Bridge I can't talk about this anymore. This is wrong, what Dev is doing, but I'm not sorry. And I don't like that on my heart, so can we talk about something else?"

"Okay. Twin truth, my turn," she whispers.

This is something we used to do when we were kids and one of us had done something bad. We confessed to each other to clear our consciences and hoped like hell that our parents didn't find out. I called these sessions alot more than Bridge did, obviously. I wonder what she wants to confess right now.

"What did you do?" I whisper conspiratorially as I turn toward her under the covers.

We are face to face, close enough to smell the alcohol on each other's breath. Pink, purple and white light play in her eyes from the disco ball app.

"I'm not a virgin," she whispers.

"Oh my god. You and Dev finally did the deed!" I hiss. "When? How was it?"

She bites her lip. "Not Dev."

"Fuck. Okay, not fuck. That's fine. Who?"

"Maks Zajac."

I'm really confused when she says that.

"Your conductor? You lost your virginity to your conductor?"

"Yeah. A while ago. And after him... there was Andrew Holt—he plays the cello in the LA Phil, you know. And last year--a percussionist--you don't know him."

"Oh my fucking god, Bridge. You have been lying about being a virgin? All these years?"

"Not lying. I just didn't announce like you did that I lost my virginity, and I didn't talk about the other guys, so everyone just assumed. But come on, I'm twenty four years old. Do you guys really think I never had sex?"

Bridge is blowing my damn mind right now.

"Your conductor? Really?"

"It was okay. Not great," she admits. "I guess that's why I didn't want to celebrate like you did."

I hug her. "I'm sorry. But what about...later? The other guys?"

"Meh," she says. "I think sex is overrated. I mean, I kept trying but...I just don't see the point. Everything exciting happens before or it just doesn't happen, you know?"

I bite my lips because I want to contradict her. Sex is definitely not overrated. Sex is precious. Orgasms are great but nothing beats the connection of the man you love inside you. It's like the ultimate acceptance of one another.

"Okay, so Dev knows how you feel about sex and that's why you guys don't...have it?" I guess.

Her eyes are completely steady as she shakes her head.

"Even Dev thinks you are a virgin!?!?!" I hiss.

"Everyone thinks I'm a virgin," she hisses back.

"Bridge," I scold.

"I tried to tell him for a while, but he's so damn...elegant about the whole thing. I can never find the right words. I've just sort of let it ride. The truth is...I do want to have sex with him. More than any of those guys, for sure. And he's finally gotten over some of his issues. That's how we arrived at our 'interim arrangement' as he calls it."

"You mean getting fully naked and having oral?"

"Yeah," she giggles. "And it's really good. Like better than any intercourse I've ever had. And now he's dropping hints about moving to LA full time. He took me to look at engagement rings. A couple of times he's talked about how romantic and special it would be to have a wedding night like no one has anymore. A long-awaited consummation, he says. He's a ridiculous fucking romantic beneath his rebellion. I mean...if he does propose and we do get married...I don't want to destroy his dream..."

"Okay, but waiting to have sex with him until you get married is not the same thing as lying to him about being a virgin. You can do the one, but you can't do the other."

She bites her lip. "What's the harm in a little white lie? I mean, the concept of virginity is stupid anyway."

"It may be stupid, but it's a stupid concept you've been lying to him about for five years, and it's a kind of big point of contention in your relationship. Bridge, do you love him?"

She nods. "It's complicated. He's like two people. I love Devlin Cavendish. But DevBlu? I like him, but sometimes I think I just want to beat him at his own game. If DevBlu ever grows up and becomes Devlin Cavendish full time? Then he's the man I want to be with. But if DevBlu can't figure it out? I don't know. I'm not as...patient as our mom, I guess."

I'm not sure I believe Bridge. She says this, but she's been waiting five years. And she's condoning DevBlu's behavoir in some backalley tonight.

"So if he does grow up? And if Devlin Cavendish is the man that gets down on one knee and he proves he can stay Devlin Cavendish? You are prepared to perpetrate this lie to the man you love for the rest of you life?"

"All I have to do is be convincingly nervous on my wedding night. It won't be exactly a lie. If I do marry him, I will be nervous. Nervous that it will be as big of a let-down with him as all the other guys..." she mutters. "Then, after the wedding night, the lie goes away. I don't have to lie anymore. I won't be a virgin anymore. Er...you know what I mean."

"What the hell is wrong with you?" I whisper.

"Oh come on! You're my twin! You're supposed to be on my side. And you're not telling Riley that Aidan Mosteller is getting roughed up for putting his hands on you."

"That's different."

"Not really."

"It really is. You don't understand. We are working so hard to put my affair behind us, but it's really complicated."

She bends her arm beneath her head. "Yeah, I can imagine."

I put both my hands beneath my head. "I don't think so. We have a sex problem, too. One I haven't told anyone about."

Her eyes are seeking more explanation, but then they round in surprise. "Oh. He...can't?"

"Not so far," I say sadly.

"But he's not paralyzed. He can feel. He can walk, with aids. I don't understand..."

"It's a common problem, even with incomplete spinal cord injuries," I say. "They say it can take up to a year or two to get better. Sometimes full function never comes back."

Bridge pulls my hands from beneath my head and squeezes them. She doesn't say sorry or try to offer empty encouragements. She just holds my hands. "I don't know how that gets fixed. Love and patience and probably a lot of difficult conversations and experiences, I suppose."

"I don't know how your problem gets fixed, either. I think Dev is going to be...shook if you tell him. And worse if you don't and he should ever find out. I think...you've backed yourself into a corner over five long years, and sadly, you're just as fucked as me."

She giggles. She can't stop. "You're so wrong. We're totally not fucked."

I laugh, too, despite myself.

"Maybe we should think outside the box," I say.

"Was that a pun?"

"Yes."

She snickers again.

"Okay, let's problem solve. How about this? Riley could get a penis implant." When I start to laugh, she protests. "No. I'm serious, I think it's a real thing...."

"Okay...I'll check into that...here's another thing...you could have a plastic surgeon restore your virginity," I return. "Leed has a pamphlet about it."

"He does not."

"Probably not, but he claims he does."

"Why the hell does Leed claim he has a pamphlet about virginity restoration?"

"I don't know."

"You know what? I think it might be the best solution to my problem. I need that pamphlet," she giggles.

We can't stop laughing. Every time we are almost stopped, we start again.

At some point we fall asleep that way, and we don't even hear Dev come in hours later.