Melody of Truth (Love of a Rockstar Book 3) by Nicole Simone Page B

May first.”
    “May first, as in seven days from now?”
    “Correct.”
    My arms dropped to my sides as he released me. He ran a hand across his cheeks, which were shadowed with stubble, and frowned. “Why so soon?”
    “Our venue double booked us and only had that date available. Marco said yes without consulting me first and was like surprise! You’re going to be stuffing yourself into a puffy white wedding gown and saying I do while fifty plus people watch in less time than you thought. Fifty!” I yelled, my chest tightening. “I don’t understand how that’s possible. I don’t know fifty people and neither does Marco. Who are these people? Strangers?”
    “Didn’t you send out the invitations?”
    “Marco did! He has orchestrated this entire event. That’s not normal, right? The bride is supposed to be invested!” My breath caught in my throat and the room spun like a merry-go-round; I was either dying or suffering from an anxiety attack.
    “You need to sit down before you pass out.”
    Sean guided me to the lower bunk. I sank down on the plush mattress and a glass of water was thrust into my hands. He had apparently fetched it while I was too busy freaking out to notice. Taking a dainty sip to please him, I concentrated on a kidney-shaped stain on the carpet while my heart rate lowered.
    “This isn’t a normal wedding, therefore, I don’t expect the same rules apply,” Sean said.
    My eyes lifted curiously at his strange comment. “What are you talking about?”
    “You marrying Marco so he can get his green card.”
    Getting a handle on my emotions proved futile as they slipped back into panic mode. “How do you know about the green card?”
    “Marco mentioned it an interview with a reporter.”
    “What was the reporter’s name?”
    “It started with a P.”
    “Penelope?”
    “Yes that was it.”
    With his poetry slam show coming up, Marco had asked me to call in a favor with an old college buddy who worked for the arts section of the New York Times to drum up some press. Penelope had a hard-hitting interview process and liked to get the story from all angles. I had promised to call her on the condition Marco would leave our relationship private and out of the news.
    “Shit!” I cursed.
    “It’s not that big a deal.”
    “It’s a huge deal!” I contended. “I know it looks like we are only getting married because of said green card.”
    “Aren’t you?”
    The hopefulness in his voice tore my soul in two. I wished I could give him the answer he wanted to hear, but lying wouldn’t do him any favors. “No. There are a million reasons why I’m donning the white dress and committing to spend my life with him. The green card isn’t one of those reasons.”
    “You’re really expect me to believe you love him? You’re acting like you’re about to go to prison.”
    “It’s just a case cold feet.”
    “As your friend…” Sean spit out the word as if it was a sour cherry. “I’m here to tell you this is more than cold feet—way more. This is your gut telling you to run.”

 
     
     
     
     
    SHIT. SEVEN DAYS. THAT WAS how long I had to convince her what a bad idea it was to walk into a marriage riddled with doubt.
    I couldn’t say there wasn’t an ulterior motive at play. Giving Melody up to another guy sounded worse than selling off my prized vintage Gretsch drum kit—a lot worse.
    It dawned on me right then how deep my feelings went when it came to her. They dove past lust straight into a zone that should have been off limits if my heart knew what was good for it.
    Why couldn’t I have fallen for a woman who was available? Who I stood a chance with? Because she would have paled in comparison to Melody, that was why.
    As I snuck a glance at her profile, the curved line of her nose reminded me of an upside down G minor cord. Her voice was like soulful jazz, husky and smooth, while her laughter fell on the side of classic rock, smooth and rolling.
    She was the embodiment of