“Oh.” Heat creeps up my neck. “I’m going to record a duet with Cash Walker—I’m not sure if you know who?—”
Natalie squeals. It’s somehow louder than Kendra’s, and she’s not even directly in my ear. “Oh my God!”
And then everyone’s talking at once.
“Are you serious?” Fox looks genuinely impressed.
“TheCash Walker?” Hannah’s eyes are huge. “Who sings Whiskey Sins?”
“Holy shit, Summer!” Mia’s grinning so wide it looks like her face might actually split.
I’m laughing, trying to answer questions that are coming too fast, my cheeks burn under the attention. Someone pulls me into a hug—Ada. Then Hannah and Natalie.
It’s chaos, and it’s perfect, and I can’t stop smiling.
When I glance back at Miles, he’s watching me with something soft in his expression, but there’s something else there, too. Something I can’t quite read.
The group’s energy eventually shifts back to their own conversations, and I turn to Miles. Then I’m wrapping my armsaround his middle, pressing my cheek to his chest. His heartbeat thuds against my ear, quick and strong.
He goes still, for only a second, before his arms come around me. One hand slides up to cup the nape of my neck while the other splays across my back, pulling me in.
“Congrats, Starling,” he murmurs against my hair.
He tightens his hold?—
A crash sounds from the bar, followed by laughter and someone shouting an apology.
He loosens his grip, steps back enough to pull out his phone and glance at the screen. “It’s getting late.” He pockets it, then runs his fingers through his hair. “Should we head out?”
Something in his voice doesn’t match his half-smile.
But I nod anyway.
The drive home is quiet, but not awkward. Just… tense. Like the words we’re not saying have filled up all the space in Miles’s Audi R8.
The lights from the houses and streetlamps flicker over his hand on the gearshift between us. I wonder what would happen if I reached over. If I laced my fingers through his.
I don’t.
We pull into the driveway, and I’m still buzzing. From the news, from the celebration, fromhim.
“Wanna have a nightcap?” I ask as he pushes the door open, Gracie immediately winding between our legs.
“Sure. Yeah.” He picks her up, and I follow them to the kitchen.
He sets the cat down on the counter and opens a cabinet. “What do you feel like?”
“Got any whiskey? It feels appropriate.” I smile.
Another half-smile before he turns away and pulls out two glasses. “Yeah.”
He pours us each two fingers of some fancy brand I’ve never seen before, and hands me one. Our fingers brush, but he pulls back quickly.
“To you,” he says, raising his glass.
“To Cash Walker.” I clink mine against his and take a sip. The burn intensifies everything I’m already feeling. “I still can’t believe it.”
He takes a drink, watching me over the rim. “This is just the beginning for you.”
