Cover

When We Fell Down

A Bad Boy Rockstar Novel

Alexa Padgett

Sidecar Press, Inc.

Dedication

For Chris. Always.

When We Fell Down

Love played false...

It’s just before Christmas, and I’m pregnant, heartbroken, and miserable. My husband Simon has been touring with his band for months. There are photos of him snuggled up with his publicist. And that’s the best part of my December.

Just before the holiday break, I’m served with divorce papers at work.

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1

Ella

Jeremiah clutched my hand, beaming with pride. We watched the fans, all wrapped up in winter gear, cheeks red from the wind that tunneled into the outdoor venue, clap and cheer for the song Simon wrote for Jeremiah’s birth.

“He sounds great,” Jeremiah said with a grin. He raised his shining eyes to his father, who was on the stage set up in the middle of the large field. I shivered, surprised by the chill here in Georgia.

“Indeed. Better than ever.” Bittersweet, this moment. Selfish though it was, I preferred Simon gripping his guitar on the edge of our bed, singing to my belly rounded with our son. Performances such as today’s stroked Simon’s ego. That moment only I could remember, nearly thirteen years ago, was love. Unfiltered, raw, and potent.

What I’d always dreamed our life would be.

I blinked back the memory and firmed my chin. Jeremiah needed to see his father, and I . . . well, I had some important details to share with Simon as well.

Simon bowed, his dark hair falling onto his forehead, his hazel eyes bright as he waved to this cheering crowd, signaling the end of his set. He walked off the other side of the stage, still unaware of our presence. I squeezed Jeremiah’s hand and began the arduous effort of maneuvering around the large crew who would be setting up for the next group to take the stage—some hip-hop act I wasn’t familiar with. Much as I loved music, I was also single parenting and much too exhausted to find time for new musicians I wanted to follow.

“What’s the plan, Mom?”

“Find your father and yell surprise. What else would we do, love?”

Jeremiah bit his lip, eyes rounding with anxiety. “You sure he’s going to be glad to see us?”

Same refrain, different day. “Of course, my darling. Don’t fret. Your father’s been busy living his dream. But now it’s time to remind him of his best accomplishment.” I slung my arm over Jeremiah’s shoulder, pulling him closer to my side.