Page 27 of Edge of Heaven

“Because the answer is…humiliating.”

“It can’t be that bad.”

“You promised we didn’t have to talk about anything serious,” she murmurs.

I promised I wouldn’t tell anyone her secrets, but I don’t point that out. “I did. So, tell me something good in your life.”

She hesitates for what feels like a long time before she smiles. “Well, I have some modeling work coming up. Finally. And guess what? I’m doing another shoot for Rock Vibe.”

“That’s cool.” I grin. “I didn’t realize they were still in business.”

“They’re headquartered in New York City now, and I’ll be out there in a few weeks. You should have your agent reach out and see if they’re interested in you. It would be fun to work together again.”

I absently run a hand through my hair, which is shorter now, hanging just over my ears in the back and a little longer on top. “I’m not the stereotypical rocker anymore. My hair’s too short and, well, you know…”

“I don’t think there’s any such thing as a stereotypical rocker these days. Lots of rock stars have shorter hair now. Look at Adam Levine, Rob Thomas…even Chad Kroger.”

She has a point.

“The thing is, they’d have to work around the band’s schedule and also…” I hesitate, because there are parts of my life that are embarrassing too.

“Also?” she prompts, cocking her head.

“I can’t afford to fly to New York on my own dime.”

“Oh, they’re paying all my expenses. I’m sure they’d pay yours too.”

“I don’t even have a headshot anymore. That was really just a one-and-done deal. I’m not a model.”

“You could be.” She smiles. “You’re gorgeous, Mick. You know that.”

I shrug. “I’m okay. Not like you, though.”

“Stop. I’m nothing special.”

“I think you are.”

Her cheeks turn a faint pink as she dips her head. “Thank you.”

“I can’t be the first guy to tell you that,” I say.

She takes the cigarette from me and puts it between her lips, looking up at the sky as she inhales. “The first in…a long time.”

“Callum doesn’t tell you you’re beautiful?”

She actually laughs, though it doesn’t sound like she thinks it’s funny. “He barely talks to me, much less gives me compliments.”

Don’t ask.

Don’t ask.

Don’t ask.

“But why—” My mouth seems to have a mind of its own.

“Shh.” She puts a gentle finger on my lips. “Let’s just share a cigarette. Then I have to go back inside and stand on the side of the stage where he can see me. That’s what he expects.”

“That’s ridiculous,” I sputter. “It’s loud and there’s nowhere to sit…why do you have to stand there?”

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