The Secret 05 Ella and Micha: Infinitely and Always Read Free

toward the stage. I hoist myself up onto the stairs then roll under the curtain and lie on my back. I briefly stare up at the domed ceiling before I push to my feet and take a seat on the bench in front of the piano. My fingers lightly graze the keys, the off-key noise echoing in the emptiness around me.
    It’s not that I’m alone a lot. I have Lila and Ethan at home. My brother Dean and his wife Caroline visit occasionally, and they bring my niece Scarlett, who has so much energy it’s impossible to have enough downtime to focus anything. Plus, when I get really restless, I sometimes fly up to Star Grove and visit my father and his girlfriend.
    I do feel lonely, though, a lot more than I like to admit. It’s not like I’d ever leave Micha over having to live alone. I knew what I was getting into when I married him. It would just be nice if the tours would ease up just a tiny bit so we could actually spend more than a few weeks together every few months.
    “Ella, what are you doing up here?” Micha suddenly says from behind me.
    I spin around on the bench, startled so badly my heart slams against my chest. “Jesus, you scared me,” I say breathlessly. Then I lower my hand and savor the sight of him.
    Dressed head to toe in black, he nearly blends in with the inadequate lighting of the stage. My fingers twitch to feel the muscles of his lean body and his soft, sandy blonde hair that hangs in his aqua eyes. My lips are desperate to taste his lip ring. God, I fucking love that lip ring.
    He softly chuckles. “You know, I could take a picture if you want. It’ll last longer.”
    I smile up at him. “I just might ask you to do that.”
    He moves around the bench and plops down beside me. His fingers align with the keys, and the notes he creates sound a lot more like music than the noise I was just making.
    “You looked sad,” he tells me as he rests his fingers on his legs.
    I shake my head as I turn around on the bench and face the piano again. “No, I was just bored and passing time.”
    “Are you sure?” His fingers enfold around my knee. “You know you can talk to me about anything, including if you’re sad or if some blonde crazy girl said something to you that was completely inappropriate.”
    “How did you find out about that?”
    “Jerry, the bouncer, told me about her.” He sighs. “I’m so sorry she said that stuff to you. You know it’s not true, right?”
    “Of course I know it’s not true. Micha, trust me, if I’ve learned anything about our relationship over the last six years, it’s that I can trust you and tell you anything. And I didn’t tell you about crazy Blondie because it doesn’t matter. You love me—that’s what matters.” I bring my leg up and rest my chin on my knee. “Now, enough talk about me. It’s your turn for you to tell me what’s wrong. Because I know there’s something bothering you.”
    He stares at his fingers massaging my kneecap. “I hate burdening you with my problems.”
    I cup his scruffy cheek and force him to look at me. “It’s never a burden. I promise.”
    He swallows hard. “I think I’m just tired.”
    “Of this?” I point at the stage.
    “Maybe, not necessarily the singing part, but the touring part, Mike, the label … They're all getting on my nerves.” He turns around in the seat and stretches his legs out as he reclines back against the piano. “They’re trying to change my image. They want me to turn into the cliché, tortured, slutty, rock singer.”
    “I’m so sorry.” I lace my fingers through his. “You know I’m here for you, whatever you do or whoever you choose to be.”
    He brushes his hair out of his aqua eyes. “I know you are.” He smoothes the pad of his thumb across my black-stoned wedding ring. “I just worry that, if I make the wrong choice, I’ll ruin our future.”
    “Our future’s going to be fine.” I give his hand a squeeze, fighting back the tears. More tours? A sluttier image? Yeah, there goes