“Thanks for taking care of that,” Cary said, letting the mailbags drop to the ground. He ripped off his beanie and ran a hand through his hair, exhaling hard. “I’ve told her a million times—we’re not getting back together.”
A brief pause followed.
“You good?” Vegas asked.
“I’m great,” Cary replied, just as the building’s concierge opened the door for him. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“See you, man.”
Had Cary been stupid to think Emma was different from the other women he’d dated? Absolutely.
She’d seemed like an angel at first. But then again,that’s how all demons start.
Their relationship had been one of convenience—mostly on her end. The more tabloids she landed in, the more roles she booked. It wasn’t entirely his fault he hadn’t seen it coming. She’d fooled him with her finishing-school manners and Southern sweet talk.
Tyler was different in ways he couldn’t ignore.
She’d shown up to the office in leggings and a hoodie, no makeup, no pretense—something Emma wouldneverdo. But more importantly, Tyler appreciated music—the right kind of music.
Cary lived for a simple melody, the kind that could cut straight to the heart. And he needed someone who understood that.
WhenGet Backcame out, he’d spent the first week watching it on a loop, completely mesmerized by the way the Beatles shaped songs from scratch. Tyler seemed like the kind of person whogot it—who felt music the way he did.
And that was something he couldn’t shake.
As a kid, the radio had been his best friend. He was shy, the only child of older parents who didn’t really understand him. Making friends was hard. But everything changed the year he turned eight and found a guitar under the Christmas tree.
Music became his escape. His comfort. Hisreason.
He carried that first guitar everywhere until high school, when he started working after school and on weekends to afford his second one—a brand-new Fender. He scribbled lyrics on napkins, the backs of receipts. Wrote melodies in his head when he was supposed to be studying.
After graduation, he hit every open mic night he could find until Sebastien walked into one—and the rest, as they say, is history.
So it was no wonder he wanted someone who shared that passion. Who didn’t justlikemusic, butlivedit.
And Cary was starting to believe—hope—that woman might be Tyler Robertson.
CHAPTER 3
TYLER
Tyler drove back to the office with “People’s Champ” by Arkells cranked to ten. Every generation had a rock ’n’ roll anthem, and that song belonged to them.
Did Cary Kingston ask her out on a date?Don’t be silly.He had those checks for Sebastien.This was business. Just business. Casual. Professional. With one of the most famous men on the planet.
“What do you think, Rory Bear? Do you like him?”
Rory wagged his tail, and she agreed with his assessment.
At home, Tyler showered, then twisted her hair into a topknot and left it. She didn’t know how to apply makeup so she stuck to the basics: mascara, blush, and lipstick.
Why was that other stuff necessary? Lady Gaga said she was born this way and had no reason to doubt her.
She googledWhat to wear on a non-date?
The answers weren’t helpful.
After a quick scroll through contradictory advice and questionable outfit charts, Tyler gave up and went with her gut. She changed intojeans, a striped top, and a jean jacket. Safe. Effortless. Non-date-y—but not not cute.
