Although there’s no choice, he has to know who my father is and whatever happens happens. I’ve learned the tell-tale signs that people want to hang around me solely because of my dad. If he asks me to have dinner with my dad, or see his house right after, it’s time I high tail it out of this relationship. When people start caring more about my dad and what he has to offer and less about me, I have no choice but to crush the relationship.

Rob pays for me and hands me my ticket after. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

His hand rests on the small of my back as we navigate through the lobby. His calloused fingers scorch my skin when they inch up my shirt to expose my back. With Rob, there’s always an undying want resonating underneath and it scares me that this relationship could be more physical for him. Whereas, for me I’m just as invested emotionally. He’s the one, and if he passes the test to who my dad is, then you might as well put a ring on my finger and call me Mrs. Winters. It scares the crap out of me though and I’m not sure love is supposed to entice that feeling.

Rob doesn’t ask me anymore about what I want to tell him, and I figure I’ll wait until we reach the second floor where The Raptures dedication is laid out.

We read facts about the musicians and he adds small tidbits that he’s heard or read other places. His knowledge of musicians surpasses me by a mile. Which only speaks volumes about what he decides in the war inside of himself—school or music. I’d be lying if I didn’t secretly hope for school, but it’s not my choice.

“Oh man, Paige, you’ve got to see this.” He drags me over to the latest inductees. “Did you know Green Day got inducted? How did I miss this?” He’s like a kid in a toy store, skipping from exhibit to exhibit, scouring for more facts to digest.

“No, I didn’t. That’s awesome,” I comment, monitoring how empty the museum is becoming. We got here late, too late to see the whole thing, but I’m more than okay with that.

“Could you imagine, Paige, seeing your face in here someday? That you made something of yourself.”

Yeah I could. Right upstairs as a matter of fact.

“It doesn’t make them better than others.” My voice is too angry to not cause alarm to him.

“Sorry, babe, I disagree. These are the top musicians ever.” He doesn’t give me more than a glance before his eyes are glued to Ringo Starr’s area.

“Yes I agree with that, but they’re just average people.”

He scuffs, “Average people who make millions and perform in packed arenas.”

My heart clenches in my chest and I close my eyes, willing the tears to stop that are about to fall. I tell my heart, we knew this wasn’t it, who really finds a gem under an asshole? It’s what romance books are made of, not real life.

“I hoped you’d be more excited.” He picks up his head and wraps his arm around my waist. His face nuzzles into my neck and goose bumps erupt under my ear. “You just want to get me home and have your way with me,” he whispers sending a chill over my skin.

I give him a tight smile that doesn’t appease him. “What’s up?” He backs away from me and I grab his hand.

“It’s time.”

Rip it off, Paige.

I drag him up to the staircase to climb it. “Are you sure you haven’t been here before? It’s either that or you’re like a Navy Seal who researches ins and outs before they enter.” He laughs. I don’t, tugging him up the stairs. “If you wanted to sneak me into a closet or something, you know I’m game.”

He rambles like always, a defense mechanism, I remind myself. Two things I’ve learned from Rob. He hates silence and he hates not being in control.

We reach the second floor and I drag him over to The Raptures section. There’s the picture, he’ll know when he sees it and I won’t have to confess anything. All the tidbits of information should link together and he’ll stare at me in awe.

Nope.

“Oh, I love The Raptures, one of my favorite bands.” His eyes scan the bio of each member. I wait patiently for him to find it. The picture of me twirling on stage with them, in the same pink dress at Disneyworld he saw.

Nervously, I bite my lip and lean against the railing that overlooks the lobby and up to the other floors.

“Oh, shit.”

I release a breath, he found it. Now I just wait until that miraculous brain syncs into rhythm and he figures out I’m Greg Thompson’s daughter.

“I know.” I step up to meet him and grab his hand.

Keeping it in mine, he studies the plaque in front of him. “You knew Will Nichols died? I guess just a week ago.” His lips slope and I can’t hold my sadness back.

Hot, plump tears cascade down my cheeks. “What?” I inch closer, releasing his hand. There it is; a plaque in honor of Will Nichols, the original lead singer. His born date and his death date on the same line. Only forty-nine years old.

“Paige.” Rob wraps his arm around me and brings me into him. “I didn’t know you were such a fan. I mean I’ve heard you play their music, but you’re a diehard fan of The Raptures?”

His body warms me and his arms soothe me. I want to be selfish and not tell him what’s behind his back. Not change our relationship to me being a celebrity kid. Me being related to someone he’s probably aspired to be. Or it might just be the connections I can give him to make a break into the music industry. Regardless, the minute he finds out my legal name is Paige Thompson, things will change; it’s inevitable.

“What’s inevitable?” He steps back, his hands cupping my cheeks.

Shit, did I say that out loud?

“What?”

“You said ‘it’s inevitable.’ What is?” Curiosity is written all over his face and now is the time. Rip it, Paige. Rip the fucking Band-aid off. My whole body fights with my mind, not to ruin this one thing I’ve granted for myself these past months.

“Um . . .” I clear my throat. “I’m . . .” I stare up at the ceiling and then back down to his blue eyes. He has no idea what I’m about to tell him.

“Paige?” My dad’s loud voice rings out over the floors.

My head whips and he’s stepping off the elevator with two bodyguards on either side of him. I step back away from Rob, whose eyes are so wide I fear they’ll spring out, dangling down like in the old cartoons.

Rob shifts his focus to me and then back to my dad, who’s followed by Len and Hank. “Holy shit,” he whispers and then tugs me to his side. “Look baby, I know you’re upset about Will, but damn, The Raptures are coming right to you.”

I’m guessing Rob missed the fact my dad called out my name. My lips curl from Rob’s star-struck eyes, even if it’s a knife in my gut at the same time. He should be thrilled a band he loves is striding toward him right now.

“What are you doing here?” My dad steps up and hugs me, kissing my cheek.

“What the—” Rob’s behind me, and I’m hoping he may see the family resemblance so I don’t have to spit it out.

“Why didn’t you call me about Will?” I bury my head in my dad’s chest, sniffing his cigarettes and whiskey mix cologne. More tears pour from my eyes. I may not have been close to him recently, but back then I was. He is my God Father.

“Oh, sweetie.” He smoothes down my untamed hair and leads my chin with his finger to meet his eyes. “He was in a bad spot. I planned to make a trip down to you, buy you lunch and break the news. But I got hung up with the tour. No sense in making a big deal of it.”

“Big deal? He was your best friend.” How could my dad be so careless about his friendships? He should cherish the ones he made before the fame.

“He was—fifteen years ago. We had our differences, he couldn’t get clean. He overdosed, sweetheart. It hurts me too, but I wasn’t going to disrupt your college on it. You haven’t seen him in years. I’m sorry though.” He swipes the tears from my eyes. “I should have called you.”