Page 27

CALLIOPE

I read my book and listened as Crew and Tom cleaned up after dinner. Tom glanced over at me several times, and each time, I did my best to stoically read the smuttiest smut that ever did smut.

It was not a good choice with this man so close to me.

Instead of imagining the handsome, misunderstood stalker sneaking into her room after dark, I imagined Tom getting lost late at night and me waking up with his head between my legs.

It was going to be a long night with Rosie.

Hell, maybe she was shaped like a tulip, but that girl got the job done.

I watched Tom’s backside as he walked Crew down the hall to pick out his pajamas and run his bath. And, oh boy, he looked back just in time to catch me biting my lip.

“I saw that,” he teased. “You need to take a moment before you sing to my child?” he asked, again referencing my reading material.

“A moment for?” I asked, playing dumb or playing with fire.

“Tension release of some sort?”

“Oh, all set. I like a good slow burn.” Jesus, Callie, shut your whore mouth.

Tom shook his head, picking up his pace to catch the toddler and effectively leaving the conversation. I put my head down, trying to focus on the story, but eventually gave up and headed to the bathroom, where Crew and Tom were laughing and splashing in the overflowing bubbles.

“Couldn’t stay away?” Tom asked cheekily.

“No, I’m just checking to see if there were any song requests tonight. Should I bring my guitar?”

Crew perked up, “Geee tah!” His attempt at saying the word made his Boston accent evident. Oh man, would it be funny for him to say the phrase “Wicked Pissah.”

That was precisely why I wasn’t mature enough to have children.

“Okay, bud. Finish up and come get me after you talk with Mommy. Okay?”

“Otay, Kiwi.”

“Eyes to yourself, Tommy Boy. You don’t pay me enough to ogle me.”

“Um…I kinda might.”

I shook my hand at him, shooing him away. Turns out we were no longer capable of having a conversation without flirting.

“Keep up the sassiness. It will make it believable for the team at the cookout,” Tom said with a smirk.

“Yeah, by the way, thank God for Mariana. It’s potluck, and if she hadn’t told me, I might have shown up empty-handed.”

“She would never let that happen. But as a general rule, we’re not much help with the social scene in season.”

“Noted,” I said, heading off to tune my guitar and warm up before playing for Crew and Tom.

While this had started as purely a bedtime routine, I looked forward to both of their reactions.

Yes, I liked performing to small crowds, but when I could pick a song specifically for someone and then see, hear, and sometimes feel their reaction, that was my favorite.

I checked my phone, noticing that my TikTok account had blown up.

What the hell? I would typically get about a thousand views of my music, but I had hit over 100,000, and it was still climbing.

My followers had grown from just over 10,000 to over 50,000.

I sent a screenshot of my profile and sent it off to Monica and then separately in my sibling group chat.

I had learned not to include PJ and Monica in the same chat the hard way.

Monica: Wow! When did that happen?

Me: Between noon and now. WTF!

Juno: I saw the video. I love the new song!

PJ: Nice, sis. Are you monetized yet?

Of course, PJ’s first thought was about money. I had just recently monetized, but nothing I had posted had done anywhere near as well as this one. In fact, I think my total income from it was about nine bucks so far.

Monica: You know what this means; now you need to build on that platform.

Seeing my music generate attention was reassuring; no, this wasn’t my first choice for my future, but my talent was something that Zander couldn’t take away from me.

And…speaking of Zander, his e-mail was in my inbox.

He must have realized his texts were blocked.

He briefly commented on my new song and then dove to ask for help with his upcoming proposal.

It seemed like stealing my work meant he was expected to continue to produce at the same level.

Who knew? I responded with a link to Lily Allen’s song, Fuck You , and closed my e-mail browser. Damn, that felt good.

I could hear Crew giggling on the video chat with his mother as my text messages dinged.

Tom: He should be ready in about five minutes or so.

Me: Okay. Be right in.