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“To Vegas!” Flynn cheers.
I suck the shot down without saying a word, fighting the urge to glance at my watch again and see what time it is. Drinks are usually early, right?
The entire drive to the airport, I squashed the urge to suggest to Flynn that he invite his cousin to join us. Whether he’d accepted or not, it’d have given me a better sense of Perry’s intentions. I barely know the guy. I hardly paid attention to him the last time I saw him.
I didn’t think Collins was seriously interested in him.
Is she?
I break away from the clump of my friends, taking a seat near the rear of the plane.
Maybe it’s for the best, the rational part of my brain tries to argue. If Collins is no longer single, if she’s evenmoreoff-limits than she currently is, maybe I’ll finally get over my obsession with her.
“I heard you have a hot assistant,” Pierce Archibald states, flopping down in the seat opposite mine. He went to Dalton Academy with me and Flynn.
I scowl in Flynn’s direction. He’s too busy pouring another round to notice.
“She’s just a random friend of Lili’s,” I reply.
“Is she single? ’Cause I?—”
“She’s not single,” I clip.
“Bummer.” He slouches in his seat, pulling out his phone.
I glance out the window at the tarmac. We should be taking off at any minute.
And I’ve never felt so conflicted about leaving New York.
12
The bar Perry suggested we meet at reminds me of the hotel in Chicago where I’d perform, back before I relegated piano to a hobby. It’s upscale and refined and elegant, filled with professionals, wearing suits and sipping on drinks.
Hownormalpeople unwind at the end of a long workweek rather than jetting off twenty-five hundred miles to gamble and party.
Choosing to do exactly that was a devil-may-care decision that’spreciselythe sort of behavior I should expect from Kit Kensington.
So, I can’t figure out why I was surprised by it. Disappointed even.
I skirt around a few tables, tucking my bag under my arm so it doesn’t bang into anyone.
There’s an upright in the far corner opposite the bar, but the bench sits empty. I study the instrument for several seconds, trying to remember the last time I played a piano.
I have an old keyboard that I hauled from New Haven to Chicago, then from Chicago to New York, but I haven’t unwrapped the protective cover since my latest move. There’s not much space to leave it assembled in my current apartment, but I’m not sure that’s why I haven’t set it up.
Since I switched jobs in Chicago, I’ve rarely played. I didn’thaveto once it was no longer my source of income. And when I chose to play, it was a reminder it was no longer my job. Maybe that was a necessary lesson to learn about practicality. Or maybe I gave up too easily. I was so focused on all the ways I was failing; I never considered the way Kit framed things.
I was never thriving as a professional pianist, but at least I was one.
“Would you like a table, miss?” a uniformed waiter stops to ask me. “We fill up fast on Fridays.”
“Uh, in a minute. I’m going to use the restroom first.”
I’m a half hour early. I told Perry six, expecting Kit to stay late, like he normally does. Sitting alone for thirty minutes doesn’t sound very appealing. I’d rather stand all night.
The waiter nods. “Restrooms are down the hall, to the left.”
“Thanks.”