“Um, Ivy, sorry to interrupt, but Damon’s on the phone and he says it’s urgent,” Leif says in a rather uncomfortable tone.

She jumps off my lap immediately. “Okay. Tell him I’ll be right there.”

Leif leaves the galley and I grasp her wrist and tug her back to me, but she resists.

“Ignore the call,” I tell her, standing up and stepping closer to her.

She backs toward the door.

I put a hand on the wall next to her head. “Ivy, don’t leave.”

“I’m sorry, Xander. I shouldn’t have done that. I just can’t be that close to you.”

I look down at her. “Why not? I’ve gone along with the friends thing, but clearly we both want more.”

Her voice cracks as she whispers, “Because, Xander, my body might want you but my heart doesn’t.”

The pain in her voice collapses everything I am, everything I have to give. She turns and walks out without a single backward glance . . . leaving my good mood shattered and a knife twisting in my gut.

* * *

It’s a rainy, miserable day when we arrive in Jersey, and the weather does nothing to improve my mood. The heat and humidity are unbearable and the rain just fucking sucks. We’re late and rush into the stadium. We do a quick sound check and head backstage.

“Are you as sweaty as I am?” Ivy asks Leif.

“My balls are sitting in a puddle of water. Does that answer your question?” He grins at her.

Leif directs his gaze my way and asks, “What’s with the air in the building?”

“How the fuck would I know? Do I look like the maintenance man?” I snap. His response to Ivy got under my skin, but really I’m pissed that he interrupted us this afternoon for her to take a call from that prick.

“Sorry. I was really just making a comment, not asking you directly.”

I nod and steer the band toward a padded blue table in the NFL training room at New Jersey’s MetLife Stadium. I throw the playlist on the table. “I’ll be back in a couple hours,” I tell them all as a general statement. Ivy and I haven’t spoken to each other since this afternoon. I’m feeling really fed up with the whole situation, so when Amy texted me and told me Breathless was spending the night in Jersey and could I meet her for a drink before the show—I said yes.

* * *

The streetlights flicker on as we exit the bar and cross the road. The sun has set, but the sky is still overcast and the clouds are situated in a way that prevents us from seeing the moon.

“Do you want to have dinner or do you have to get back?” Amy asks.

I glance at my watch and calculate the minutes until the show starts. I’m trying to decide if I should leave now or just skip it. Even if I leave now I’ll be late, so I opt for skipping it and calling to check in instead.

“Dinner sounds great.”

“My hotel has a great restaurant. What do you say?”

“Anywhere is fine with me. I just need a few minutes to check on things.”

We walk to Amy’s hotel and she goes ahead to get a table and I stop in the lobby and make a few calls. When I hang up I feel comfortable that the show is going to run smoothly without me and go to seek out Amy.

We’re seated across from each other in a booth in the dimly lit restaurant. I order my third scotch on the rocks of the night and decide to drink this one a little slower than the first two.

She chats about her job and we compare the cities we’ve both been in. Then the topic of conversation suddenly changes.

“Damon Wolf is buying up as many small production companies and record labels as he can,” Amy tells me.

The mere mention of that asshole’s name makes me want to grind my teeth together. She seems to have some kind of preoccupation with him and I’m trying to keep my cool. “I really don’t give a shit about Damon Wolf,” I snap.

She gives me an easy smile, ignoring my hostility, and changes the topic. “So how’s the new lead singer doing?”

I shrug. “She’s doing pretty good. Her and the guys got most of the songs down.” I leave it at that and gulp the rest of my drink.

She eyes me. “Everything with you going okay?”

I nod toward the waiter. “Yes, it’s great. I’m just hungry. I don’t think I ate anything all day.”

The waiter approaches and we order our food and I order another drink. For the first time, I don’t want to be out with Amy. Our relationship has always been casual and we’ve always gotten along really well, but tonight she seems to be pushing all my buttons.

She passes the rolls, and conversation with dinner seems to go better. We talk about music and bands, and the topics stay neutral. Once I pay the bill, I lean my head back in the booth and close my eyes. “I should get going.” My words come out slurred.

“Are you drunk?” Amy asks, the word rolling off her tongue in a nonaccusatory way.

“Yes,” I answer proudly and open my eyes. “I think I am.”

She reaches across the table to place her hand over mine. “Why don’t you come upstairs with me and sleep it off?”

I have to grin, because a night out with Amy always ends up the same way. “Sure, why not? But the bus is pulling out first thing in the morning for New York City and I have to be back.”

“Xander, I’m sure you’ll be up, and if not, the bus is moving less than twenty miles away. You could always take a cab.”

I laugh. “Yeah, when you put it like that it does sound kind of ridiculous. I just wonder if the bus would wait for me.”

She giggles and stands up from the table. “Come on, let’s go.”

The elevator ride seems to last forever and the walk to her room seems even longer. When we finally arrive, she unlocks the door and ushers me in.

“Want a drink?” she asks.

“I think I’m good,” I reply.

I sit in one of the chairs, hoping that will stop the room from spinning.

“I’m going to brush my teeth. I’ll be right back,” she says, disappearing into the bathroom.

I close my eyes and start to fade away, but her voice jolts me up.

“You seem off tonight. Are you okay?” she asks for the second time this evening.

I straighten up and look over at her. “Yes, I’m fine. Just tired. I haven’t been sleeping great lately.” I try to focus on her. She’s got a toothbrush in her mouth and she’s leaning against the bathroom door wearing nothing but some sexy underwear. She looks hot, and my body responds before my mind can think. She turns back into the bathroom and after a few minutes she turns the light off and crosses the room. She kneels in front of me and presses her palms on my thighs. She slides her hands upward to my zipper and tugs it down.

“Let me help you get undressed,” she says.

There’s nothing I want more at this moment than to forget Ivy, but I can’t do that to Amy. If I do this with her it would just make me more of an asshole than I’ve already been tonight.

“Amy, no,” I whisper, trying to sober up and stop her before she frees my half-hard cock.

She looks at me wide-eyed. “Why?”

“I just can’t right now. I’ve had too much to drink.”

“You look fine to me,” she says, staring at my erection.

“Not because of that.”

She stands up with a sad smile. “Oh. Right. I get it.”

“I think I should get back to the bus and see how the show went.”

“Xander, you can talk to me, you know. Tell me what’s going on.”

“Amy, really I’m just tired,” I lie.

“Okay. But at least let me drive you back. Jane rented a car and had me run errands earlier, so I still have the keys.”

I nod. “Sure. Thanks.”

She pulls out a shirt and a pair of shorts from her suitcase and slips them on, then pockets the car keys and we leave.

* * *

With a crash and a bang, I manage to pull the door to the bus open and climb the steps. I stand there in the entrance to the front lounge and brace myself against the doorframe. Amy slides under my arm. I think she thinks I need help walking, but really I’m just more tired than drunk.

“I’m home,” I announce. As the words come out, I can hear my speech. It’s slightly slurred. My eyes are glassy, I’m sure.

Garrett raises an eyebrow. “You’re drunk, man. What happened to you?”

I shrug and stand there silently as I look into Ivy’s eyes. She’s sitting at the table watching me. Her eyes fill with hurt as she studies the situation.

“Hi, Garrett,” Amy says.

“How are you? How’d you get stuck with him?”

Amy laughs. “I asked him to meet me for a drink.”

Narrowing her eyes on Amy, Ivy stands up.

“Hi, Ivy,” Amy says to her. “How’s the tour going?”

Ivy glares at her with a look I’ve never seen before. “It’s great,” she says benignly. “I was just going to bed,” she adds and hurries out of the room.

Garrett comes over and hoists me up, relieving Amy of my weight, which I seem to have bestowed upon her.

“What’s with her?” I ask Garrett.

“You. You’re an asshole.”

My lip curls. “Clue me the fuck in. Why am I an asshole?”

“We were worried about you. You’ve never missed a show. We’ve been calling you. Why didn’t you answer your phone?”

I pull my phone out of my pocket and squint at the screen. “Never heard it. It’s still on VIBRATE from rehearsal.” And laughing, I add, “I never felt it, either.”

He rolls his eyes at me.

“I didn’t know I needed to check in.”

“You don’t, man. Forget it. Come on, let me help you to your bed,” he says, moving toward the door. The air still smells like Ivy and I breathe it in.

I turn around. “Sorry about tonight,” I tell Amy.