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“Shut up, Bosco. Let’s get this inside.” Nash turned our way as they carried the speaker past. “Be right back,” he said to me.

We stood in the mostly dark alley, Emily practically producing her own glittering light with excitement and me standing in a hurricane of emotions, guilt, nervousness and worry that I’d jumped into this too fast.

Nash returned a few minutes later, and I could feel Emily’s entire body tense next to me. Mine was tense, too, but for an entirely different reason and because of the big blob lie, the name I was now calling it. I couldn’t just come straight out and ask Nash if I was merely his newest conquest because tonight, I was just his dog walker and inconsequential neighbor. And darn him for looking especially good tonight in a gray shirt that matched his eyes.

It seemed Nash was working extra hard to smile at Emily, which, in retrospect, might not have been the best idea. It would only encourage her to think she’d be walking out with his marriage proposal tonight.

“Was it already too crowded inside?” he asked Emily and then dropped a fleeting smile my direction.

“No, we just thought we’d say hi,” I said. “You remember my friend, Emily.”

“Sure do.” He stuck out his hand, and I thought my friend might melt through the asphalt beneath her when she took it. “Good to see you again.”

I was having a minor meltdown about the conquest comment, so my smiles were limited. Nash seemed to sense something was wrong because, aside from his smile, he shot me a concerned look.

A wide, uncomfortable silence followed. Emily always ended up tongue-tied when she was nervous, and judging by the way she was fidgeting on her sandals, she was very nervous.

“Well, we don’t want to keep you,” I said. My plan to vacate spurred her into action. She wasn’t going to miss out on the opportunity to talk to him longer.

“Will there be any new songs tonight?” she asked. “It’s been a while since you guys produced a new one. I keep checking your site, hoping something new will pop up.”

Nash raked his fingers through his hair and exchanged a conspiratorial look with me. They still hadn’t announced the band’s breakup, which was another big, secret/lie I was keeping. “Uh, you know, keep an eye out tomorrow. Might be something new.”

My eyes rounded in surprise. I knew he’d been working on a song—“just somethin’ I’m messing with,” he’d told me more than once. Was that the new song?

Emily clapped excitedly. “I can’t wait. Are you performing it tonight?”

“No, not tonight. Well, I need to get back inside.”

“We need to go, too, Emi, otherwise we won’t get back in.” My enthusiasm for the whole night had really bottomed out. “Nice to see you again, Nash,” I said politely.

“Yes, you too.” It was all so formal and dry it made me grit my teeth. Emily and I turned to leave, and unexpectedly, his hand brushed mine. It was hard not to show a reaction. Emily didn’t notice. Behind us I heard the door to the building open and shut. I could still feel the heat of his hand on mine as we headed back to the bar.

ChapterTwenty-Eight

Nash

“Hey, Rocky.” The dog met me at the door. He hated being home alone at night, and I hated to leave him. Tonight had been a top-to-bottom disappointment. It had started with Bosco and me getting into it about something stupid—where to set the drums and keyboard on the stage. For a brief moment, it seemed we’d patched up our differences, and I thought breaking up the band might actually work in favor of our friendship. We’d have no more reasons to argue. But it seemed I’d been imagining the truce between us. The tension was just as abrasive as ever, and after seeing the women coming around the corner, Bosco stopped talking to me for the rest of the night, not exactly ideal when we were playing as a group.

I gave Rocky a treat. Sensing that I was home for the night, he took himself off to bed. Layla’s visit had been the other rough part of the evening, which was especially crummy because it should have been the opposite. Even with our pretend act. Something was wrong, but because of ouract, I couldn’t ask her what it was. I spotted her in the audience during the first set, but never saw her again.

One set blurred into the next. The bar was crowded, the lights hot and the air grew thick with the smell of people and beer. During breaks, the four of us hardly looked at one another. It was the kind of heavy silence, slightly tinged with anger and that grim feeling of failure, that could be expected with the breakup of a band. We knew it was all coming to an end, and not a great one at that. Sales were down, and the four of us had drifted apart creatively, socially and in every way necessary for a group to be cohesive and successful.

I landed on the couch with a thud. It had been a long night, but I was always far too wired after a gig to fall asleep. I glanced at my guitar. It had been with me since I bought it from a pawn shop right after high school. At the time I bought it, I had no idea of its value. I knew it was worth good money after I’d had more than one offer to buy the thing after playing for parties and in small dives.

A light knock on the door made me sit up straighter. I knew the knock. I hurried to the door. When I’d returned home, there was only one dim light on in Layla’s cottage, so I figured she was fast asleep, and all my worry would have to wait until morning.

I pulled open the door. Layla was wearing sweatpants, flip-flops and a white tank top. “Excuse my attire,” she said. “I fell asleep on the couch, and then your headlights swept through the house and I woke up.”

“I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Am I your ‘newest conquest’?” The words shot out so fast it took me a second to decipher them.

“What? My newest conquest?” As I said it, the tension-filled moment with Bosco came back to me.

“God, Layla, not in a million years. Come inside.”

“I can’t stay long because my dreams are waiting for me back at the cottage. You weren’t in any of them tonight, but that’s not to say you haven’t been the star in several of them recently.”