Page 4 of Fire

“Like my life depends on it.”

As if she heard her name, Elena appears in the kitchen entryway. Her silky brown hair is piled high in a messy bun, and she’s rocking the hot mom look in tight black leggings and an oversized green sweater that hangs off her shoulder.

She wanders over to Zander, and they share a kiss that is far from appropriate. His hand grabs at her ass, and I’m pretty there’s tongue involved.

Christ, no one needs to see that.

She giggles, pulling herself away from his reach, and gives me a lazy smile. “Still ringing the doorbell, huh?” Marisa straddles her hip, wearing one of those footsie pajama things. It’s covered in tiny cartoon guitars, and she’s clapping her hands together like it’s the most entertaining shit on the planet. She seems completely oblivious to her parents’ mini make-out session.

At least one of us is.

Marisa appears to be an equal blend of both of them. From Zander’s mesmerizing green eyes to Elena’s light-brown skin and dark hair, I have to admit that the kid is cute.

Scary as hell, but still cute.

“Between breastfeeding and you two making out every few seconds, I never know what I’m gonna walk in on.”

“That’s fair.” She passes Marisa to Zander, who has set his beer aside for some quality baby time.

Is a one-year-old still considered a baby? They still carry her everywhere, but she can technically walk, even though she resembles a drunken sailor half the time. So doesn’t that make her a toddler instead?

Fuck if I know.

“So if you’re not here to hang out,” Zander says while bouncing his kid on his hip, making her laugh. “What brings you here? Not that I’moverjoyedto see you.”

I roll my eyes at his phony enthusiasm because he knows exactly why I’m here. He just wants to hear me say it.

Fucking asshole.

He stares at me expectantly.

“Gonna make me beg too, huh? Is that what we’ve come to?” My voice is strained as I lay the guilt on extra thick. “Is this whatour friendship has become, Zander? Me having to come to my best friend?—”

“For fuck’s sake.” Now it’s his turn to roll his eyes. “Please stop. You’re a terrible actor. Seriously shitty. Did you even try to sound sincere?”

Elena laughs as she leans forward on the marble counter.

I let out a huff. “Okay, no more bullshit,” I agree. “But you have to be honest with me. What’s the holdup, Z? Why did my dad just tell me that the entire fate of the tour hinges on you? Are you trying to ruin my life?”

“See, I told you he’d be like this,” Elena says as she turns to her husband.

“Like what?” My eyes ping-pong between them.

“Dramatic.” They answer me in unison.

“Dramatic?” I overemphasize the word as if I’ve heard it before. “I’m not the one trying to cancel a multi-million dollar tour while simultaneously shattering my best friend’s dreams!”

“For the love of God.” Zander pinches the bridge of his nose. “I did not tell anyone I wanted to cancel. I only expressed some concerns and said it might be better to consider the idea of postponing, since Evans is already out.”

“Evans is the bass guitarist. No one cares about the bass guitarist.”

He levels me with a glare. “You’re a bass guitarist.”

“Yeah, do you see any women throwing their panties atme?”

Marisa has gone from clapping and cackling like a deranged clown to being comatose in minutes and is now slung over Zander’s shoulder, sleeping like a log. So fucking weird. “When was the last time you were even on stage?”

“Exactly my point! I need this.” I throw my hands up. “It’s been so long since I performed in front of actual people that I’m starting to forget what real applause sounds like. You know this is my dream, Z.”