Page 122 of My Three Billionaire Rockstars

“No.”

“I didn’t say anything yet.”

“You were about to.”

She grins. “You know me so well.”

“That’s because I’ve had to.”

We walk a few more steps, Daisy now sniffing the ground like she’s working a crime scene, before Nina adds, too casually, “How’s your rockstar social circle?”

I nearly choke on my coffee. “Excuse me?”

“I’m just asking.”

“No, you’re fishing.”

“Also true.”

I shake my head, because this is exactly how she gets information. Soft voice, innocent expression, and suddenly you’re halfway through a confession you didn’t mean to start.

“I’m not talking about it,” I repeat.

“You already said that.”

“And I meant it both times.”

“Mm.”

Daisy loops herself around my legs like she’s trying to tie me to the path permanently.

I look down at her. “You’re adding nothing to this.”

Nina takes the leash while I untangle myself, which feels like a trap but also a relief. “Fine,” she says. “I’ll stop.”

“You say that now.”

“I say that until something interesting happens.”

I give her a flat look. “Then you’ll be waiting a while.”

That’s when Daisy sees another dog and absolutely loses her mind.

Pure, unfiltered joy. Full-body wiggle, tiny frantic yips, feet scrambling like she’s about to achieve flight.

“Okay,” I say, already bracing. “This is how we die.”

Five minutes later, Daisy has made a new best friend, Nina is crouched down cooing at both dogs like she’s known them her entire life, and I’m standing there holding my coffee like I’ve somehow become the exhausted parent in a situation I didn’t sign up for.

I let myself breathe. This part, I like.

The ordinary part.

The path, the trees, Nina laughing at something the other dog’s owner says, Daisy vibrating with happiness like her entire purpose in life is being fulfilled right now.

No music industry, complicated men, situations I don’t know how to define. Just normal.

Which means, naturally, it can’t last.