Page 63 of My Three Billionaire Rockstars

“You too,” she says, then glances at Xander with the kind of polite curiosity that’s somehow less embarrassing than if she acted like everyone else in the room. “Wow, all of you!”

Julian laughs and slides into the booth like he’s been joining us for years. Gabe takes the end of the table, giving me room on one side, and Xander stays standing a beat longer, scanning the room in that watchful way of his before finally taking the chair Tommy pulls over from another table.

So, that’s it.

This is happening.

I’m sitting at my usual Friday night table in Bennett’s with my sister and the three founders of Redemption Records while half the bar tries very hard to pretend they’re not openly staring.

This is way too much.

A server swings by. Patty, who works part time at the diner on weekends and looks one second away from vibrating through the floor. “Tommy says first round’s on him.”

Julian leans back. “I like Tommy.”

“Everyone likes Tommy,” I say.

“That feels right.”

Patty’s eyes flick between all of us, then settle on me with just enough meaning to make me want to fake my own death. “What can I get you?”

Orders happen fast after that. Beer for me. Brandy for Xander. Whiskey for Gabe. Julian asks for whatever Tommy would bring someone “looking to make excellent decisions,” which isn’t a real drink order but somehow still gets him served.

The stage changes over while we settle in. Someone local named Darren, who always plays two originals and a cover like he’s hoping one of the originals will accidentally launch his career, starts tuning at the mic.

The bar fills back in around us, noise returning in uneven layers as people accept that the ceiling isn’t going to collapse just because three rockstars walked in.

Mostly.

I wrap both hands around my beer and try to ignore the fact that every few seconds someone at another table looks over.

Nina, because she enjoys my suffering, leans across the table and says, “You’re blushing.”

“I’m leaving you all my debt in my will.”

“That seems dramatic.”

“This is dramatic.”

Julian props an elbow on the table. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re handling it really well.”

I look at him flatly. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re enjoying this way too much.”

He smiles into his drink. “Both things can be true.”

Xander says nothing, but when I glance his way, I catch him watching me over the rim of his glass like I’m somehow more compelling than the whole room.

It should be illegal for someone to look at people like that in public.

Gabe notices too.

He shifts the conversation smoothly, asking Nina about school, about the bookstore, about what kind of crowds Friday Night Live usually gets. It’s subtle, the way he redirects things. Controlled. Helpful without making a production out of helping.

“So, this happens every week?” Julian asks after a while, glancing toward the stage where Darren has moved into a surprisingly decent acoustic set.

“Spring through early fall,” Nina says. “Sometimes in winter, too, if Tommy’s feeling stubborn.”

“Tommy’s always feeling stubborn,” I say.