“Totally,” Bea whispers, something shifting in her expression. “Which gives me an idea. Be right back.” She wanders away with my phone, tapping quickly at the screen.
“Hopefully, she remembers she’s logged into my account not hers,” I say as Charlotte stands beside me, watching Bea pace beside the stage.
“Doubt it,” Charlotte says, affectionately.
“I’ll remind her,” Blue says, starting across the bar.
When we’re alone, I turn to Charlotte, pulling her into my arms for a long hug. “Damn, that feels even better than usual.” I park my hands just above her ass, fighting to keep my tone casual as I add, “Probably because I just remembered that I never cancelled our Paris flights tonight.”
Charlotte’s grin is sudden, dazzling, and as excited as I hoped it would be. “What! No way. You didn’t?”
I smile. “No, I didn’t. I kept them and our hotel reservation. Just in case. And since Mom and Dad get in early tomorrow, and Beatrice is doing so much better…Andshe told me she’d kick me in the nuts if I didn’t take you to Paris…”
“You really are a genius, Baylor Nix,” Charlotte whispers, grabbing the lapels of my suit coat in both hands. “A total genius, and I love you.”
She pulls me in for a kiss that tastes like victory, bourbon, and forever.
Yeah, that’s definitely a forever taste, I decide three days later, as we’re wandering through a Paris flea market as classy and timeless as my girl.
It’s too early to buy the thing I buy, way too early.
But it’s too perfect to pass up.
So, I buy it while Char’s busy choosing the perfect vintage ads from the 1920s to frame for the downstairs bathroom and tuck it into my pocket, already knowing I’m not going to regret it.
This love might be new, but it’s real.
The realest thing I’ve ever known.
Twenty-Four
CHARLOTTE
April in New Orleans is the most glorious time of year.
Warm, but not too warm. A hint of humidity here and there, but not enough to threaten my blowout, and rarely a cloud in sight.
And the smell?
Heavenly—sweet olive like musky honey on the breeze, jasmine exploding on every fence rail, and a hint of citrus from the mock orange trees dancing in with a top note that makes your mouth water for a taste of something tangy.
Like a mojito, perhaps…
I bought fresh limes at the store this morning, just in case Nix is up for a cocktail in the garden before we meet up with friends.
I smile and pull in a deeper breath, excited for the night ahead and generally grateful to be alive. My windows are down, the sun is on my face, and my sexy boyfriend has a four-day break from playandpractice. We have plans to hit the food festival on Bourbon later with Elly and Grammercy, then swing by a blues club to meet Beatrice and her roommate for a drink.
Bea is thriving in NOLA. With Kai a continent away in Vietnam “finding himself”—aka hiding from the backlash after the entire world realized he was a repulsive creep—and her firstsingle still charting months after its release, she’s really coming into her own. Her solo album should be done soon, she’s plugged into a community of musicians, and her roommate, Clover, is an aspiring fashion designer who keeps Bea in a steady supply of fun and flowy dresses.
Life is good.
So good, sometimes I have to pinch myself just to be sure I’m awake.
I’m considering stopping in at my favorite bakery to grab fresh bread to make French toast tomorrow morning—why not add another blessing to my weekend?—when my phone buzzes against the passenger seat.
As I pull to a stoplight, I glance down to see Makena’s name lighting up the screen, followed by several urgent-looking emojis and—EMERGENCY!—in all caps.
Well, that’s not good…
