“I understand, Jaxon, but SevenFour Entertainment wants you on that stage for some reason. It’s not Henry. It’s the label.”
I pay Henry and my management company a lot of money to deal with this shit. I know the label hasn’t made as much money off me this year as they have in the past, but surely they can’t be so greedy as to let me have one year off without trying to force me into shit I don’t want to do.
Izzy walks out of her room, a pair of running shorts and a baggy shirt on.
“I gotta go, Andre,” I say quickly. I’ll start focusing on my work tomorrow. When Izzy looks less fuckable. Or at least has to go back to work.
“Call Henry.”
“Fine. I’ll give him a call.” I take in the round edges of Izzy’s bottom as she grabs two cereal bowls out of her cabinet. “Tomorrow though.”
“Who are you calling?” she asks, pouring us both bowls of cereal. Our meals have been much simpler since I’ve stopped getting takeout for us multiple times a day.
“My manager needs me to call him back. But it can wait until tomorrow.”
“Great,” Izzy says, handing me my sugary breakfast. “Because I just got a text from my mom—you’re invited to family dinner tonight.”
***
Sunday night dinner at the Harper house is in full swing by the time we walk in. The house smells like garlic bread, and the air is buzzing with conversation.
“We're late,” Izzy mutters beside me, tucking her hand into mine like it's second nature. I don’t think she realizes she does it, and I don’t say anything. I never want her to stop, though.
“Fashionably,” I say, leaning in to kiss her cheek as Jen appears from the kitchen holding a wineglass in one hand and a wooden spoon in the other.
I may have changed outfits a few times before we left. Any other family, and I would be fine, no nerves at all. But the Harpers, particularly after my interaction with Ken at coffee, are an unknown threat. Or maybe I know them too well.
Either way, I have no idea what kind of reception I’m going to get at this dinner that Izzy spontaneously invited me to this morning, and that’s fucking terrifying.
“There you are,” Jen says, pulling Izzy into a one-armed hug before waving the spoon in my direction. “You. You’re responsible for her glowing skin and that dreamy look she’s been walking around with.”
“Guilty,” I reply, grinning.
Oh, thank God. At least Jen is in my corner.
“For Pete’s sake,” Bryn mutters from the couch, where she’s perched on Jameson’s lap, wineglass in hand. “Get a room.”
“They have one,” JT calls from the kitchen. “That’s why they’re late.”
“We’re not that late,” Izzy says, cheeks pink but voice steady.
“You’re not that innocent either,” Lila teases, elbowing her as she walks by with a plate of sliced tomatoes. JT trails behind her, already grabbing for one. She smacks his hand without even looking.
“What did I tell you, Pretty Boy?” she says, eyes still on the plate.
“That the tomatoes are for the salad. But you never said I couldn’t steal one if you weren’t looking, Pipsqueak.”
“She’s always looking,” Carter says, carrying in a tray of drinks, his mom, Alice, following closely behind him. “Having eyes in the back of your head is a requirement to work at KH Security.”
Alice’s eyes light up when she sees me. “Oh! You brought the rock star! You’re…you’re…you’re…”
She trails off, and everyone at the table is doing their best not to notice her inability to recall my name. Knowing how deeply it hurts Carter to see his mom struggle like this, I try to defuse the situation.
I laugh and lean down to kiss her cheek. “Guilty again. Jaxon Steele.”
All three of the Harper sisters snort at my stage name, but I choose to ignore them. “It’s good to see you, Alice.”
She smiles, then leans in conspiratorially. “Don’t tell anyone, but I still think your best album was the one where you wore the leather pants.”
