Both her compassion and words have me fighting back tears.
Evidently not well enough, though, because she hands me a tissue. “Honey—”
“No. I’m fine.” I steel myself. “I almost made a bad decision, but I came to my senses. Nothing’s going on between me and Phoenix.”
It’s done. Over. Kaput.
“How’s George doing? I haven’t heard much about him lately. Are you two still…getting to know each other?”
Her and Skylar would get along famously.
“It didn’t work out.”
“Oh, that’s a shame.” She takes the lid off the cake holder and cuts two slices of crumb cake for us. “He seemed sweet.”
“He is. He’s just…not my type.”
Because apparently, I have a thing for assholes.
“I see.” She dishes out a slice of cake for each of us. “Well, tell me all about the tour. I want to hear everything.”
I tell her something safe.
“I met a friend. Her name is Skylar.”
“That’s a pretty name. What’s she like?”
“Gorgeous. And strong and really smart. Her um…” I push the cake around the plate with my fork. “Her fiancé was Josh. The one who died in the accident.”
She clutches her chest. “Oh, how awful. I’m surprised she’s still touring with the band.”
“They hired her as their publicist, so she has to. She’s also really good at her job. When Phoenix…never mind. Not important.” I shove a forkful of cake in my mouth and take my time chewing. “How’s Dad been?”
“You know how it is. Some days are better than others. But health-wise he’s doing great. His doctor said his cholesterol is much better now.”
That makes me smile. “I’ll never be able to thank you enough for taking care of him.”
“You never have to thank me. I’m happy to do it.” She takes a bite of her cake. “It’s a little dry, huh?”
Nope. It’s delicious. Her and Grams should open a bakery. “It’s perfect.”
“So, aside from meeting Skylar, are there any other interesting things that have happened over the last six and a half weeks?”
Most of my interesting experiences involve Phoenix.
“Nope.”
She blinks. “Oh.”
I can tell she’s waiting for me to follow that up with something, so I add, “It’s just your standard tour. You know, sex, drugs, and rock and roll.” I shovel another forkful of cake into my mouth and chew. “Although there won’t be much of that anymore, given Memphis is having a baby and Quinn’s still a teenager.”
“Who are Memphis and Quinn?”
Oh. Right.
“Memphis is the lead guitarist. He’s having a baby with Gwyneth Barclay.”
Her face lights up. “Oh, I love that show. Richard always makes fun of me, but it’s a guilty pleasure of mine. Don’t much care for that Gwen girl, though.”
I’m sure Skylar would appreciate that. Especially since Quinn—who doesn’t know any better—is all but ready to throw Gwyneth a parade whenever someone mentions her.
That’s when I realize my blunder. “Don’t tell anyone. We only found out yesterday that Memphis is the father, and I don’t know if it’s gone from rumor to official public confirmation yet.”
Skylar will kill me if she finds out I leaked this before it was time.
Mrs. Palma makes a zipping motion across her mouth. “My lips are sealed. Now, who’s this Quinn you mentioned earlier?”
“Quinn is Phoenix’s—”
The sound of the doorbell ringing cuts me off.
“That must be my grocery delivery. I’ve been having everything sent here since it’s easier.”
“I’ll help.”
I start to get up, but she shakes her head. “No. It’s only a few essentials. Sit and relax.”
While she answers the door, I take another bite of cake….
And choke on it when Phoenix comes waltzing into my kitchen like he owns the place.
“I didn’t know you were expecting company,” Mrs. Palma says behind him.
That makes two of us.
The sound of the teakettle whistling mimics my rising blood pressure.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
Phoenix merely smirks.
“Would you like some tea?” Mrs. Palma questions, her wide eyes ping-ponging between us.
“No,” I say at the same time Phoenix says, “I’d love some.”
“You don’t drink tea.”
He takes a seat next to me. “I do now.”
“Don’t you have to be at sound check?”
Reaching over, he plucks the remaining cake off my plate and eats it. “Not for another three hours. This is good cake.”
“Thank you,” Mrs. Palma says. “I made it yesterday.”
Dang it. Her manners have always been impeccable. The woman could loathe someone and still wave and smile at them.
“Stop eating her cake.” I glance at Mrs. Palma, who looks like she’s getting ready to serve him his own slice. “Don’t let him eat your cake.”
He might steal the recipe and make a fortune off it.
She places the plate on the counter and busies herself with our tea instead.
“Why are you here?”
“I miss you.”
Mrs. Palma drops a spoon on the floor. “Don’t mind me. Keep talking among yourselves.”
I have no doubt she’s eavesdropping. Which is all the more reason to keep this conversation brief.
“You’ll see me tomorrow morning.” I spring up from my chair with so much force it almost topples over. “Let me show you the door.”
He stands, towering over me like a tree. “I know where the door is. But I won’t be using it.”
Holy hell. The asshole is out of his damn mind.
“Why are you doing this now?” Here.
“We’ve been stuck on a bus for the last fifteen hours. There was nowhere to talk without someone overhearing.”
As far as I’m concerned, we have nothing to talk about. Everything we needed to say to one another has already been said.
“You need to leave. I made it perfectly clear the other night that our arrangement was over.”
Those piercing blue eyes study me like I’m a puzzle he can’t quite figure out. “Let me get this straight. You’ll let me fuck you six ways from Sunday, and suck my dick like it’s your new favorite pastime, but you won’t have a conversation with me? What kind of shit is that?”
I jump at the sound of glass shattering behind me.
Mrs. Palma grabs the broom. “Darn teacup just slipped out of my hand.”
I want to crawl in a hole and die.
Grabbing his arm, I escort him out of the kitchen and to the front door. “Do you have any idea how rude you’re being?”
Then again, rude is practically Phoenix’s middle name.
Right after thief.
“Rude?” His eyes narrow. “Rude is when two people have an arrangement and then one of them ends it abruptly, without just cause.”
“We were fuck buddies, Phoenix. It’s not like we had a freaking contract.” I poke him in the chest. “And I had just cause.”