Annie takes a step back, tossing a playful wink in his direction. “Coffee and pancakes. I’ll be back in a jiffy.”
She strolls away without a backward glance, leaving me wondering what the fuck just happened. But I get my answer soon enough.
The man with inky hair and volatile eyes snags her by the wrist before she can retreat through the double-swing doors. He pulls her close, wrapping hisarms around her waist in a smothering embrace. A firm kiss is pressed to her hairline as he continues to watch me from across the room, a storm brewing underneath the surface.
A chill courses through me. Gnawing, nibbling. It hits me like a slap to the face.
He’s marking his territory.
She’s taken.
Of course she is.
Here I was thinking I had a goddamn chance with her. She invited me to hang out, alone. But wrapped up in his arms, she looks like she belongs there. Like she’s always belonged there.
Pathetic waves of disappointment run rampant through my blood.
Coffee is eventually set in front of me, followed by a plate of pancakes, oozing with syrup and melted butter. Annie floats through the restaurant, from table to table, chatting with customers as if she’s known them for years. “It’s The Same Old Song” by the Four Tops pours from the jukebox, pulling her into a series of silly dance moves with Kenna. She rotates her hips, lets her hair take flight, throws her head back with a laugh. It’s almost enough to yank me into her bubble of joy as I stab my fork into the sugary stack with nearly enough force to crack the plate.
The smile never leaves her face.
Winded, she skips over to me, refilling my coffee mug.
I don’t say anything. Don’t smile back.
A receipt is slapped beside my plate a half hour later, and she sees me off with a warm expression. “I’m glad you stopped by, Chase. Give Toaster a kiss for me.”
Annie dashes off, linking arms with Kenna as they scurry back into the kitchen, leaving me stewing in my fifty-billionth round of unfortunate luck.
The metaphorical piano crashes through the ceiling and lands on my head as I skim over the receipt. But I do a double take when I spot an arrow drawn in sparkly purple ink scrawled beside the dollar amount.
Flipping over the scrap of paper, I read the message she left behind.
23 Acorn Street
Midnight
Bring your guitar
I glance up, the doors still swinging on their hinges.
All the best mistakes have names.
Something tells me this one goes by the name of Annalise Adams.
Chapter 10Annalise
“Are you out of your mind?” Tag paces around the coffee table in the finished basement, one hand curled around his hip, the other palming his nape. “Alex is going to lose his shit.”
“Why?” I prop my feet up on the hand-me-down ottoman and cross them at the ankles. “He knows I’m here. Midnight is my thing.”
“With me. It’sourthing.”
“Who cares if we bring someone else into the fold?”
My brother stops short, pivots to face me. “Christ, Annalise. This is next-level absurdity. Are you hearing yourself?”
My defenses activate. “It’s not a big deal. We’re just going to work on music together. He could be talented.”
