I nodded, feeling a lump form in my throat. "Four o'clock."

I got up and went to the bathroom to freshen up and pull on my black slacks and black cami under a black and white polka dotted sheer blouse. I slipped on my shoes and leaned over Carson, still lying in bed. "Four o'clock," I repeated.

He looked at me seriously. "Okay. See you then. Oh, take the extra key card on the desk so you can let yourself in."

"Okay," I said. Then I kissed him softly, grabbed the key card and left the room.

As I walked down the hall, a melancholy swept over me, and it occurred to me that this was the first time Carson and I would be apart for longer than fifteen minutes since we had first stepped onto that elevator.

Carson

I lazed around for a little while, flipping on the television and watching "Die Hard" for half an hour or so when I found it on a movie channel. Finally, I shut it off and pulled on some clothes. I couldn't help the feeling of melancholy that had washed over me when Grace closed the door behind her. I was going to see her in a couple hours and yet I was already missing her. This wasn't good. I suspected that I was somewhat fucked when it came to Grace, but I didn't want to think about it. It was going to suck to watch her walk away tomorrow morning. I stood at the bathroom sink looking at myself in the mirror. "You are such a dumb motherfucker," I said to my reflection. Maybe we could keep in touch. Maybe I could fly her out to L.A. We needed to talk–I couldn't let her go permanently. It was suddenly an impossibility for me. I had no idea what we'd do, but we had to do something. I tried to work through it in my mind for a few minutes but couldn't come up with a solution. "Fuck!" I yelled to no one.

I decided I needed to get out of my hotel room while she was gone. I'd come back up and meet her at four and we'd talk, figure something out, but to sit and drive myself crazy for the next hour didn't sound appealing. I headed to the lobby and decided to stop by the end of the expo, probably just finishing up about now.

I walked into the conference room and it was still crowded with fans, lines formed at tables where the most popular performers sat signing anything from photos to body parts. I shook my head on a smile when I saw one woman bent over, as a male performer I didn't know signed her bare ass.

"Carson!" I heard shouted and looked over to see Bobby Prince, another male performer who worked for Courtney at ArtLove.com.

"Hey, man." I turned and walked over. Bobby was just packing his stuff up and so we stood and shot the shit for a little while before his girlfriend, who was in the business too, came over and put her hand around his waist asking, "Ready, baby?" We shook hands and he took off. I looked around and saw a grandma who must have been ninety years old having her saggy cleavage signed by a woman I didn't know in a short red, leather dress with a zipper up the front. I decided I'd had enough. This was not my scene and exactly why I had told Tim that I wasn't doing this type of stuff anymore. Why I thought it'd be a good idea even to walk through, I didn't know.

I made my way to the conference room doors and just as I was almost there, I heard my name shrieked. I turned around and there was a twenty-something blonde jumping up and down and pulling her friend's arm. "Oh my God!" she yelled. "Carson Stinger, I LOVE you!" Then she ran over to me and pulled her shirt all the way up, exposing her tits. "Sign me!" she demanded, sticking a sharpie pen in my face.

I managed a smile and took the pen from her. I scrawled my name across her breasts and handed the pen back. "Thanks for the support." I smiled and started to walk off.

"Wait!" she yelled. "Will you take a picture with me?"

I sighed. "Sure," I said, walking back to her and putting my arm around her shoulders. She pulled her shirt back up to expose my signature, as her friend snapped a picture.

I nodded and smiled at them both again and as I turned, I heard her friend whisper to her, "Grab his dick so you can say you felt up Carson Stinger."

I felt them both come up behind me and turned toward them saying, "Whoa, ladies, I appreciate your fan support, but no one's grabbing my junk." I tried to laugh it off, shooting them both my most charming smile, that one that always got me what I wanted with women.

They weren't listening to me though, their eyes cast down to my crotch, their hands reaching forward.

"Back off!" I yelled deeply, making them startle and halt their movement and drawing eyes from those standing nearby.

I turned back around and started walking as the blonde yelled after me, "What the hell? You fuck for a living and your dick's suddenly off limits? Whatever asshole!"

I clenched my jaw and kept walking. When I got out into the hall, I kicked a plant over, dirt spraying over the carpet. I left it there.

I made my way back up to my hotel room and slammed the door behind me and kicked it for good measure, and then sat down on the corner of the bed staring blankly at the wall. I was pissed and I couldn't figure out exactly why. Those girls were bitches, but who fucking cared? Who cared what they thought? Who cared what anyone thought?

A minute later, I heard a click and the room door opened. Grace came in and smiled big at me, her blue eyes softening when she saw me. "Hi, handsome," she said. "Miss me?"

I looked up at her, so beautiful and so sweet, still feeling anger and something like shame swirling through my chest over my "fan" run-in downstairs.

I opened my mouth to say something full of sexual innuendo about exactly what I missed about her, but I snapped my mouth closed. It was like a reflex, but Grace would see right through it so why bother? So what should I do instead? I frowned.

Her face went serious. "Carson? What's wrong?" She came over to me and tilted my chin up with her finger and looked into my face, her eyes searching mine. I didn't answer but wrapped my arms around her and lay my head on her belly, taking in long inhales of her soothing scent.

After a couple seconds, she started running her hands through my hair gently, soothing me further. "Talk to me. What happened?" she asked quietly.

I took in a deep breath and pulled back from her. "Nothing, Grace. I just ran into some bitchy fans from the expo. Just a hazard of the job," I said.

When her eyes skittered away from mine, I knew that she didn't know what to say–my job was probably something she really didn't want to think about. Frankly, it was something I really didn't want to think about either.

"I'm gonna take a quick shower, okay? Then we can get ready for dinner?"

She smiled a small smile at me and nodded. "Okay." She took her hand and brushed a piece of hair off my forehead and then brought her hand to my face and looked into my eyes, telling me everything was okay. I leaned into her and closed my eyes. I didn't really need a shower, but it would give me the time to get into a better head space and let the run-in roll off my back. It was my last night with Grace. I'd be damned if anything was going to ruin it. Plus, we needed to talk. We needed to figure something out. I couldn't let her go.

Grace

I heard the shower turn on and sat down in the chair at the desk to check my phone and shoot Abby another quick text. I had been sending them to her since I had talked to her and told her about staying with Carson. She wanted to know that I was okay. I didn't blame her–if the positions had been reversed and she was spending the weekend with a stranger, I'd want her to check in frequently too.