Page 106 of Perfect Composition

And I smile when I hear the clamoring of noise down the stairs. Yes, Austyn has brought life to this pile of stones just like Paige brought it to my heart.

PAIGE

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Beckett Miller was distracted on the red carpet when escorting DJ Kensington. Although he normally takes time to socialize with as many members of the press as possible, he appeared eager to get inside. Perhaps he needed adjustments to his onstage attire, which was quite fitted. Although not for everyday wear, I can’t deny it was visually appealing.

— Eva Henn, Fashion Blogger

“Damn, I always knew she’d look amazing on a red carpet.” I whirl around, and a ridiculous smile takes over my face. This time, instead of the spasmodic ball of acid that fills my belly when Ethan points out Beckett’s date, pride takes its place.

I lean against my brother as we watch Beckett’s and my daughter saunter at his side down the red carpet at the Grammys. “You called it, sequins and all.” I take a drag of my beer, one of the last I’ll ever enjoy at Rodeo Ralph’s.

“Wonder what you’re gonna wear when he takes you? Something plum-colored and classy as hell.”

The beer I just slid into my mouth comes hurling out at a rapid speed right onto Ethan’s boots. “Are the computer screens sucking up what brain cells you have left?”

He pats my shoulder condescendingly. “Denial is such a lovely place to live.”

“So is Connecticut, which is where I’m moving.”

“And you think being a mere one state away—roughly sixty miles from Manhattan—is going to stop Beckett from furthering his courtship?”

“Stop it,” I hiss, glancing around.

“You know, your gentleman friend who sent a bottle of champagne to you earlier. ‘Wish you were with us. I love you.’”

“Jess is a dead man when he gets here,” I vow, infuriated both that my older brother told Ethan about the champagne and that he read the card. Dead, I swear it.

“Your gentleman caller who dropped my name with the software company he wrote a certain jingle for to get my foot in the door on a contract bid?” he throws out offhandedly.

“He didn’t,” I breathe.

“He did,” comes Jesse’s voice. “And that same beau also offered to buy Dad out of the farm if I didn’t have the capital out so Kensington would remain in the family.”

“He’s doing all that for Austyn,” I protest weakly.

“Paigey, despite my concerns, you didn’t see the way his eyes tracked your every movement over Christmas,” Jesse chides me.

“No joke. The man is beyond halfway gone for you.”

Absentmindedly, I say, “He mentioned using someone named Bristol…”

Both my brothers heave and choke simultaneously. “Brogan-Houde?” When I nod, Jesse manages, “She’s only known on television as the ‘Queen of Wall Street.’”

I shrug helplessly. “I guess? I don’t think about his money.” I’m too busy packing to be with him, responding to texts of songs being sent to me. And hot-as-hell FaceTimes that have me blushing.

Jesse’s too shrewd not to notice. “She’s hiding something.”

“No, I…” But just then, a reporter stops Beckett and Austyn. We agreed not to disclose their relationship so Austyn would have a chance to make it all on her own in the music business. I tense, wondering how this is going to work.

The live closed caption reads:

[reporter] And who is this with you?

[Beckett Miller] My good friend, Kensington.

[reporter] The DJ?