“Someone I used to know,” I finally say.
“Past tense. I like the past tense.” She leans forward and touches my arm. Her nails are painted a glossy black. “How long are you in town for?”
“A few days. I’m meeting with my new producer.”
“Who?” she demands.
I shrug sheepishly. “Tobey Dodson.”
“Well, fuck me. Tobey took you on? You cutting an album?” When I nod, intrigue dances in her eyes. “When’s it going to be ready?”
“I don’t know.”
“How many tracks?”
“I don’t know.”
She grins again, then startles me by saying, “Let’s grab dinner while I’m in town.” She nods decisively, as if it’s a done deal.
“Oh.” I blink. “Okay. Sure.”
“My agent will get your number.”
“Mollie May,” someone interrupts. Her bodyguard is at the talkback mic. “We gotta go, girl. Sanchez is ready for you.”
“No,I’mready for Sanchez,” she calls toward the booth. Sheturns to wink at me. “Don’t ever let people think they control your time. They’re always waiting foryou.”
“Noted.”
As she flounces toward the control room door, I check out her ass in that tiny denim skirt. Damn, she’s cute. And not at all what I expected.
After Mollie May and her bodyguard disappear, I suddenly notice my mother is up there too. I walk into the booth, wondering how much of that she heard.
“You realize the biggest pop star in the world asked you to dinner?” Mom says.
Guess she heard everything.
I shrug. “I think she just wants to talk about my album.”
“Oh, honey, she doesn’t want to talk about the album. That was flirting.”
I give another shrug.
Mom searches my expression. “Have you spoken to Blake?”
“You don’t need to ask me that every day. The answer never changes. It’s a no. She’s not speaking to me.”
Her gaze softens. “She’s just going through something.”
“She thinks I never loved her.”
“Give her time,” Mom advises. “She needs to work through it, come to terms with what happened. She lost a baby.”
“I lost one too,” I say stiffly. “But everyone keeps forgetting that part, now don’t they?”
She looks startled. “Wyatt—”
“Forget it. It’s fine.” I stalk back into the studio and return to the piano, ignoring my mother’s concerned eyes through the glass.
