Page 85 of Just Trouble

“Love the chorus,” I say. “Serious earworm, though. It should have a warning label.”

“What’s that?” she asks, noticing what I’d rather she didn’t.

“Nothing.”

“Not nothing. That’s my name.”

Do I have a playlist for when I’m thinking of Daph. Yes, yes I do. Don’t shoot. I sigh, open it and let her look.

“Fine Young Cannibals.She Drives Me Crazy.” I get a smile for that one. “Roxy Music.More Than This. Berlin.Take My Breath Away. Chris de Burgh.Lady in Red.” She gives me a look. “I don’t wear red.”

“It’s the sentiment, not the technicalities.”

She smiles a little, letting me have that one. “Roy Orbison.Pretty Woman.”

“Mercy,” I murmur and we smile at each other for a long hot moment.

“Tracy Chapman.Give Me One Reason.”

I get a searching look for that one before she gives me back my phone and our fingers brush. “I, uh, don’t suppose you have a playlist for me.”

It can’t hurt to ask, right?

“Just one song.” She leans back in the booth, as inscrutable as ever. “The one you sing to someone at the end.”

“Used to sing to someone.” I feel the need to correct her on that.

She studies me, her eyes darkening as her voice softens. “I can’t be the only one who ever wondered what it would be like.”

I am struck dumb that Daph could have ever been thinking of me—but in a good way.

She’s watching me, probably reading me like a book but I can’t guess her thoughts. “My dad calls you my young man,” she says.

I have to smile. “I would have expected him to call me something else.”

Daph shakes her head, her eyes shining. “He likes you.”

“No accounting for taste,” I say, just to make her laugh and it does. We’re high on each other and that makes me think ofTaylor. I tell her a few more stories about him and she holds my hand when my throat tightens.

“I’m proud of you,” she says softly and I feel like my heart will burst.

“Your fault,” I say, my voice husky. “You make me want to do better.”

“You know, this might be the wrong thing to say,” she begins.

“Go for it, Daph.”

“But Patrick might have done you a huge favour.”

“Never!” I protest but she shakes her head.

“Think about it. He could have married your mom, and you wouldn’t have been able to escape him.”

Bloody hell. She’s right.

“Maybe I should send flowers,” I say and she laughs.

We do that thing of smiling at each other for a thousand years, then the waitress brings the bill, breaking the spell. We’re heading out, her hand in mine, when the owner steps forward. They’ve recognized me and want autographs and selfies. Daph nods and steps aside, watching as I do the honours. It doesn’t take long and they’re very nice, leaving Daph out of the whole thing when I ask them to. We wave goodnight and head back to the bike, where she pulls me to a halt.

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