Page 27 of My Favorite Mistake

Connor couldn’t stop the gathering of his brows. He was so caught off guard by the matter-of-fact way she declared he hated her that he was speechless. Not to mention her use of the wordsdead and buriedstruck a particularly excruciating chord.

“Again,” Liza continued with firm emphasis, speaking to her screen and not him, “I didn’t take this job knowing you worked here. I knew, being in New Orleans, there was a possibility that I might run into you, but I prepared myself to avoid you if that happened. I don’t want to be in this situation any more than you do. But I really like Jimmy, and I already love this label, and I believe in what he’s doing.”

She paused as her throat bobbed, and then she finally turned to look at him through pools of deep, velvety hazelnut framed by lush, black eyelashes. “I mean, whatallof you are doing. The music that comes out of this label is part of the heart and soul of the American musical landscape. There’s a lot of garbage out there now, and I’ve been working my entire career to propel musicians with that same heart and soul onto the mainstage. Because if they fall into obscurity in favor of all the over-processed, manufactured crap that’s out there, we’re all going to lose something that’s part of our collective cultural heritage.”

Liza turned her head again and brushed a stray hair away from her face, and then focused her attention on the screen again. Connor still couldn’t speak, and then she exhaled a quiet sigh as she turned her chair toward him and placed her hand on the desk next to his; close, but not touching.

“I don’t need you to like me, Connor. I don’t even need you to stop hating me,” she said, eyes locked on his. “I just need you to have an open mind and try to work with me, because we are working toward a common goal.” She pressed her palm at the center of her small breasts and gave him an earnest look. “And once we meet that goal, Ipromiseyou, I cross my heart andswearto you, I’ll be gone from your life forever.”

Connor wasn’t a man who cried. At least not about things that didn’t involve the death of someone who mattered to him. But the idea that there had been a time in their lives when they’d made promises to each other that were theexact oppositeof that forced a rock into his throat. And that just made him want to hit something.

Not only that, but Lizatotallygot it.

She gets it.

She perfectly articulated his own soul-deep belief in the music and culture Frenchmen Street Records was desperately trying to maintain. He couldn’t believe how wrong he’d been when he snapped at her earlier that day. She wasperfectfor this place.

And how perfect could everything have been if he’d only just held his shit together? He wished that wishes were real so he could have wished for a different past that could have led them to this same spot. One that was void of the tragedy that ruined him so they could have sharedthislife; growing old together while being a team in pursuit of the thing that gave life to his soul and made him forget about all the ugly shit in the world.

The quivering flame of lingering love he still had for her suddenly exploded into a bonfire, hot as napalm and just as sticky. His already scorched heart was going to be scarred for life worse than it already was because of this single moment. Brennan was right. There was no denying that Connor still loved Liza with such suffocating intensity that it would probably drown him by the ripe old age of thirty-five because he knew he’d never have her again.

A seasoned expert at concealing any hint of feelings, Connor offered what felt like an out-of-place smile. “The template’s badass. I’m looking forward to seeing what Frankie comes up with.” He patted the desk with his palm as he stood and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I can get moody about this stuff because I’m super protective of this place. Don’t pay any attention to that. It’s not personal. You’re obviously doing a great job, and it’s good that you’re here.”

Her eyes brightened, and she returned his smile. “Thank you for saying so.”

He nodded again and forced himself to take a step backward to leave, despite just wanting to stay with her. An idea suddenly occurred to him, and he reached across the opposite desk to grab a file he’d put together for Oscar, the dynamo kid from Vaughn’s.

“We should probably get started on this,” he said, offering her the file, and she took it. “He’s unbelievable. I’m planning to go talk to him next week. Jimmy wants us to work together on him because this kid has all the potential to be something earth-shattering. We’re hoping he’s our next big name. So, if you want to look over that and check out the video, that would be awesome.”

Liza opened the file and began thumbing through newspaper clippings and fliers from past shows. “Sounds good. Just let me know when you’re going, and I’ll join you.”

“You bet.”

Connor glanced around the room, finding himself at a loss for anything to do right then and decided the best thing he could do for his aching heart and tortured mind would be to go for a run. He started to step away from Liza, but pure impulse stopped him and compelled him to pause and lean his face close to speak into her ear. Her hair still held the potent scent of summer flowers and citrus. Breathing it in again after all that time nearly knocked his knees out from under him and almost dragged the forbidden confession from his lips.

But all he allowed himself to say was, “I really don’t hate you, Liza.”

She turned to look at him, and her face was only a breath away from his. She didn’t say anything, but the look in her eyes spoke volumes.

I don’t believe you, she may as well have been screaming at him.How could I possibly believe you?

8

Lower Ninth Ward, New Orleans

Early one Saturday morning, Liza picked up Connor at his house, and she was struck by how much it felt likebefore.She couldn’t decide if she liked that or not.

“We’ve got some time,” he said, breaking the silence about five minutes after pulling away from his house in Algiers Point, the neighborhood he’d always lived in. Liza vaguely remembered it from when he brought her here all those years ago. Time and indulgent intoxication had rendered the neighborhood a bit fuzzy, but she remembered the nineteenth century homes flanked by oaks, crepe myrtles, and wisteria. She remembered thinking it was a nice, quiet, charming place to live, but she also remembered her naivety and stupidity believing she’d live there with him one day.

Connor pointed ahead. “Make a left up here and let’s get some coffee.”

Liza acknowledged him with a silent nod and turned the car around the corner. A small café sat on one end of a quaint strip center, and Liza pulled into a parking spot. She started to turn off the car in preparation to get out, when he touched her forearm.

“I got it. Just keep the car running so we can get going.”

Liza glanced at his strong, tapered fingers on her arm.

God, his hands are attractive.

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