Page 56 of Not Another Love Song

Mark closed his notebook. “Well, thanks for meeting on the morning of the concert.” He sipped down his cappuccino and stood, extending his hand to both of them. “I hope you live close.”

“Yeah,” Gwen said, standing. “I’m just up in Washington Heights, and Alex is only a few blocks away.”

She grinned at Mark and watched his eyes flickering in curiosity. Alex was perfectly still, clenching his jaw.

“You’ll need to strike that,” Alex said, his gruff voice directed to Mark.

Gwen blinked. Should she not have mentioned where he lived? Was he famous enough now that something like that mattered?

Then it hit her. Alex.

She’d called him Alex.

And like a good interviewer, Mark knew exactly who he was, ready to walk through the door Gwen had opened for him. He tilted his head, starting to ask another question.

“Thanks, Mark,” Xander cut him off. “Hope you enjoy the concert.” He stood, shaking Mark’s hand again, a bit too firmly.

Gwen flushed scarlet as she grabbed her bag, waved goodbye to Mark, and tried to slip away to the subway. She’d been thinking about the young violinist who used to allow people to call him Alex, and she’d slipped up. The last time she’d called him Alex was at his apartment, when she—

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t call me that.”

She spun. He stood at the entrance of the café patio, about to head in the other direction.

Her chest tightened. Embarrassment flooded her from her blunder, but she couldn’t help but prod at him.

“Your friends called you Alex. At the wedding,” she said.

He stared at her, Ray-Bans shielding him. “I wasn’t aware that we were friends.”

It suddenly felt like a cloud settling over the sun, cooling the pavement and sending a wind through the air.

Gwen swallowed. “No, I guess we aren’t.”

She turned and headed home to get ready.

She’d bought a new outfit for the concert with her first paycheck. While the rest of the orchestra women got away with recycling dresses each concert, Ava had always had a new black dress—almost like a guest of honor. Articles were written highlighting her fashion choices.

So, at Ava’s insistence, Gwen had gone with a jumpsuit with a tailored tuxedo jacket. “It will separate you from everyone. Keep you youthful,” Ava had said.

She was just slipping into her heels when a knock was rapped on the bathroom door.

“Gwen, I want pictures,” Jacob called from the other side.

She laughed and rolled her eyes. “It’s not prom, Jacob.”

“It might as well be! Get out here!”

Jacob had gotten back together with Declan last week. She had no idea what happened to Nicky; all she knew was that Declan and Jacob were back on. She was glad for them. She’d grown fond of Declan and had missed him.

She straightened the lapels of her tux jacket and smoothed her pants legs before pulling open the door and stepping out into the hallway.

Jacob’s eyes widened into saucers, and he gave a low whistle as she twirled. “Damn, girl.” He lifted his phone and snapped a pic. Declan was in the kitchen, but promptly dropped the spoon into the enchilada sauce and screamed.

“Gwen, you are stunning!” Declan ran to her, making her twirl in circles.

Jacob ran into his bedroom yelling over his shoulder, “We got you something.” He returned with a small blue box. A box that looked suspiciously like—

“Tiffany’s? Jake, are you serious?” Gwen’s eyes widened, and she felt like she needed to sit down. She’d never seen a real Tiffany’s box in her life, much less been gifted something from there.

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