Page 52 of My Favorite Mistake

Algiers Point, New Orleans

We get to be friends,Liza’s words from earlier that afternoon echoed in Connor’s mind over and over again.We get to be friends. We get to be friends. We get to be friends.

He could do that. He could be her friend. He’d been trying to be that for a couple of weeks since their strangely intimate and emotionally revealing afternoon when they ventured into the Lower Nine to meet with Oscar. And now, it sort of felt that way. Maybe not the closest of friends, but pleasant and cordial, and beyond that she wasthere. With him in some capacity. Not the capacity he wanted, but, after all, he’d realized long ago that what he wanted would ruin her life. And he loved her enough not to do that to her. He loved her enough to keep his distance.

The Old Point Bar was Connor’s home away from home, and it felt damn good on this particular night. The front doors were open, and gusts of wind blew through the bar from off the Mississippi. The temperature had fallen a bit, as if gentle rain was brewing off the coast to drench the city in wet warmth the following day. Oscar was in between sets during which he’dcrushed it, and Connor was set up at a table with Liza, Brennan, and Jimmy.

Connor sipped an Abita Amber, his demons quiet in the face of music and laughter, and he decided that if this was how he spent the rest of his life, he’d go to his grave with a smile on his face. And to make things better still, Liza grabbed his arm, shaking and smacking it to get his attention. She acted like touching him like that was as natural as breathing, and that made him smile wider.

“Can you stop staring off into space for just a second while I go over this stuff?” Liza’s eyebrows were high on her forehead, and she was sporting an exasperated smile.

Connor set the beer down and folded his hands on the table as he looked at her.

“Iampaying attention, honey,” Brennan said, using his glass of scotch to gesture for her to go ahead.

“B.” Liza broke in with laughter. “If you were actually paying attention, you would know I was tellinghimto pay attention.” She pointed at Connor with a bottle of Abita Purple Haze.

She always drank that girly beer, and he couldn’t help thinking of the first time—theonlytime—he’d brought her to New Orleans, and she balked as he ordered one in a go-cup for her. She couldn’t wrap her brain around the idea that people were allowed to walk with alcohol, and she had loved that local Louisiana beer since way before they met, and the whole thing had just seemed likedestiny.

Destiny that he managed to destroy in only six short months.

“I’mpaying attention, and I’m the only one who really matters,” Jimmy inserted. “So go ahead, Liza.”

“Thank you, Jimmy.” Liza picked up a napkin off the table and coughed into it, then tucked the napkin into her palm. She set the tablet on the table, folding its cover behind it and propping it up to face them. “So, first. My plan for the next few weeks is a virtual tour—”

“Virtualtour?” Connor laughed and spun his beer by its bottle neck. “As in, not actually a real tour, but sort of like one?”

“Comeon,Connor.” She threw her hands in the air and let them fall to her sides in exasperation. “Can you listen for five minutes while I explain, please?”

“By all means.Fuck.” He laughed again. “I was just giving you shit.” Actually, he was mostly just indulging in a weird, cloud-nine type feeling he had about everything at the moment. He knew what a virtual tour was, but she didn’t need to know that.

Liza held up one hand as if telling everyone to wait and turned her head. She paused like that for a moment before she covered her mouth and nose with the tissue, and then an adorable little sneeze exploded out of her.

“Bless you,” the three men told her in unison.

“Thank you.” She shook her head as she dabbed her nose. “So, a virtual tour is when an artist is hosted by various blogs, podcasts, social media pages, so on and so forth.” She tapped the screen to open an entry on the calendar. “We call itvirtualbecause it can be done locally without having to rack up expenses for travel and accommodations and hauling equipment around the country, which obviously saves money on gas and food per diem and—”

“Okay, okay, okay.” Connor lifted his hands. “I got it.”

“So, for Oscar’s debut virtual tour, he’s going to appear on livestreams for the top seven top 40 stations in the US.” She brushed her hair away from her face and cast a sheepish glance at Jimmy. “I know Oscar isn’t top 40, but the purpose of this is to cast a wide net and get his name out there.”

Jimmy offered an approving nod. “I get what you’re doing. I think it’s a good idea. I’m impressed you were able to nail those down.” He waved his hand at her. “Keep going.”

Liza’s face blanched with relief, and she tapped something else on the screen. “After that, he’ll be speaking and performing for podcasts with Song Exploder, Sound Opinions, and All Songs Considered.” She bit her bottom lip as her mouth stretch into a tickled grin. “That’s with NPR, and it was hard as hell to get a spot.” She restrained her smile to a demure expression. “I love NPR.”

She’d always loved NPR, and twenty-two-year-old Connor—who lived on toilet-humor radio programs while in the sandbox—had thought it was damn sophisticated. The fact that she still loved it and was obviously fangirling about getting Oscar a spot was cute as hell.

Connor tipped his bottle toward her. “You’re a nerd.”

Liza glanced at him as she gave a self-deprecating laugh and a small shrug. “Yes, but my nerdiness is going to expose Oscar to people who will really believe in and support his music.” She drew in a deep breath and then covered her mouth as she coughed. “Anyway. The other major thing is…” She paused dramatically, grinning widely at the three of them. “Drumroll, please, gentlemen.”

Connor and Brennan rapidly drummed their fingertips against the table. Jimmy chuckled and leaned back in his chair with his arms folded across his chest. Liza darted her bashful gaze for a number of second until it briefly collided with Connor’s.

“I spoke to the folks at the Cajun Zydeco Festival, and they’re holding a spot for him if he wants it,” she announced.

Connor had to grip the seat of his chair to keep from reaching for her, pulling her close, and kissing her hard. Anddamn. What a life they could’ve had. If only, if only,if only.

Nevertheless, what they had now was plenty great, and Connor gave her shoulder a firm shake. “That’s badass, Liza. He’s gonna be stoked.”

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