I glance at the traitor currently sprawled across my duvet like a furry emperor surveying his kingdom. He blinks at me with exaggerated innocence. “You say he’s not your pet, but you worry when he’s gone.”
Taio shrugs. “He’s not native to Miami. I wouldn’t want to abandon him in a foreign land. I’ll happily kick him to the curb when I get back to New York.”
I cock my head to the side and smile. “Your denial is getting out of control.”
He whisper-laughs, awkwardly shifting his weight side to side like he doesn’t know whether to stay or go. I decide to put him out of his misery. “Claire, thank you for telling me that. It means everything to me. Also, I want to be there when you tell Spencer the baby will be named after me and not her.”
“Why?” Claire asks.
“I have a tiara and a sash that says ‘Favorite Aunt’ that I really want to parade in her face.”
“Good grief,” Claire grumbles.
“I love you, sister.”
“Love you, too.”
The call ends. I toss the phone aside and look up again.
Taio fills the doorway like a man who was specifically designed to fill doorways. He’s changed out of his all-black bodyguard uniform into something softer—dark sweats that sit low on his hips, a tight, dark blue T-shirt that does obscene things to his chest and shoulders. His jet-black hair is still damp from a shower.
And he smells…good.Really good.Like he put on cologne before coming to look for a cat he almost certainly didn’t lose.
“You’re not sleeping?” he asks. “I figured you’d be exhausted.”
I sink deeper into the covers. “I am, but I’m way too wired. It’s like this after almost every performance—good or bad, I just sit here and play everything back in my mind, over and over. I’m powerless to stop it. When Claire’s on tour with me, we always plan for midnight junk food, movies, face masks, pedicures, anything to tucker me out. Right now I’m on my own, and failing.”
Black Cat yawns extravagantly, displaying an impressive array of teeth, and begins grooming his paw with aggressive disinterest.
I tuck my legs beneath me, suddenly hyperaware of my thin pajama shorts and tank top. “He can stay, by the way. I don’t mind.”
Taio hovers in the doorway, one hand braced against the frame, fingers drumming an uncertain rhythm. “And can I? Stay, I mean?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, are you mad at me?” The question comes out rough, scraping against something raw. “About earlier. The hallway. I wouldn’t blame you if you were.”
I weigh the possibilities in my mind. I could stretch this out—make him dangle in suspense a little longer, watch him fidget. The petty part of me is tempted. But exhaustion has worn down my edges, and there’s something about the way he’s standing there—all vulnerable and ridiculously good-looking—that’s making it impossible to hold on to my righteous indignation.
“I’m not mad.” I pitch my voice into my best imitation of a disappointed parent—the exact tone Nate used when we broke curfew or crashed the golf cart into the pool house. “I’m just disappointed.”
The tension in his shoulders melts. A laugh escapes him, surprised and warm. “Fair enough.” He takes a step into the room, then stops, like he’s not sure he has permission to come further. “Are you hungry?”
As if on cue, my stomach releases a growl so loud and prolonged that Black Cat’s ears flatten in alarm. I haven’t eaten since before the concert—fourteen, maybe fifteen hours ago. The adrenaline kept me running, but now that it’s drained away, I’m suddenly aware that I’m completely, desperately, would-commit-minor-crimes-for-food ravenous.
“Starving,” I admit. “But it’s past midnight. Nothing’s going to be open. There are acai bowls in the freezer.”
“You just had the night of your life. We need carbs and cheese.”
“We?” I ask.
“Well, Claire’s not here…I guess it’s my job to tucker you out.” His stupid, teasing smile appears. I’m beginning to think he likes this game.
“Any ideas?” I ask, fluttering my eyelashes, feeling stupid, but I’m too tired to flirt in any sort of productive way.
“Actually, yeah. Stay right here. Give me about an hour. I’m going to run out for supplies.”
“Supplies for what?” I ask.
