Page 100 of So Not My Thing
“I’m sorry. That’s why I came in person today. I was so busy, but I wanted to explain everything to you in person, and I kept meaning to text you that I was going to explain everything in person, and suddenly it was ten o’clock, and I had a feeling I was already going to be in trouble, so I decided to come today to explain and also beg your forgiveness.”
I’d never heard him speak such a long, uninterrupted sentence before. He was losing breath toward the end there. “I’m listening.”
“I did too. Listen, I mean. That’s what I want to tell you.” He leaned forward to grip my knees, and even though I was still annoyed with him, my belly did the same flip it always did when he touched me. “I thought about it, and you were right. So I dragged Aaron out of bed yesterday morning and put him on the case. We were working our contacts all day yesterday. And get this, Channel Five is coming to do a profile on us next Tuesday for the evening news.”
“Wow.” It was a sincere wow. “That’s great.”
“And look at this.” He handed me his phone. “I put it on Instagram and everything. And I called Anneke, and she’s coming.”
“That’s good.” I tried to keep my tone neutral, but I didn’t like that he was so excited about that. I didn’t fool him.
“Seriously, don’t worry about her. She’s friends with a couple of guys on the Saints who will show up because that’s what athletes do: hang out with swimsuit models. She’s doing me a big solid because once the word is out that those guys are coming, the tickets will sell out, the news story will keep the buzz going, and we can sell out the next few weeks of shows too.”
His clear enthusiasm made me smile. His energy was back. I put my hands on his and gave them a light squeeze. “That all sounds great.”
“You were right.” He flipped his hands over to grab mine and tugged me until I tumbled into his lap. “It doesn’t matter if the buzz is people trying to be where the party is. If it sells tickets, it’ll get our artists the attention they deserve.” He buried his face in my neck and took a long, deep breath of me. “I should have been listening to you from the start. And I’m sorry again I didn’t call you yesterday. I do this sometimes, get hyper focused and shut everything out. Fair warning: it gets bad when I’m putting together an album. I can disappear into my head for a while.”
I brushed my fingers through his hair. “You feel better about everything?”
“Yeah.”
I could feel it in the lines of his body, his thighs beneath mine, his chest against my side, his arms around me. Every bit of him was more relaxed than I’d seen him in weeks. “You don’t have to apologize for being hyper focused. But you’re probably going to have to apologize every time you don’t return a text.”
“Fair,” he murmured, but his tone was distracted as his mouth nuzzled toward mine, looking for a kiss I was happy to give him.
We didn’t break apart for a few minutes until there was a groan from the top of the stairs where Chloe glared down at us.
“Seriously, you guys? Again?”
“Here, there, and everywhere,” Miles said cheerfully. Chloe reached into her purse and hurled a small packet of Kleenex at him. It bounced off his shoulder. He just grinned.
She skimmed down the stairs and stepped over us, disappearing through the rear exit, no doubt in a hurry to get her bakery coffee before she tried to deal with the rest of the day.
“Forgive me?” Miles asked.
“Forgiven,” I promised, and kissed him until not only he believed it, but until he had no room left for any other thoughts.
By the time Channel Five came on Tuesday to do their “Weekend Preview” segment, the tickets had already sold out from Miles and Anneke’s Instagram posts, but the station wanted to profile the Turnaround. The reporter, a woman named Kyla, was intrigued by the guest list.
“That’s quite a who’s who,” she said to Jordan as he rattled off the confirmed VIPs.
I watched the interview from a booth off to the side. At first, I hadn’t wanted to come. I swear, for about a week straight after going viral, I’d gotten as much coverage on the local news as a hurricane until the national press lost interest in me. The local news had too, within another week. Too bad the meme hadn’t died as quickly.
But Miles had wheedled. “Come on, it’ll be fun. You can see me doing my rock star thing. I want to show off for you.”
“You don’t have to show off for me,” I’d told him. That had ended with him hoisting me onto my kitchen counter and kissing me stupid until we heard Chloe fumbling with the front door. But I’d agreed to come watch him do the Channel Five interview.
“What made you decide to come back to New Orleans?” Kyla asked Miles. Aaron settled in across from me and watched his cousin give a smooth answer about wanting to give back to his hometown.
“I don’t know how the camera doesn’t make him totally nervous,” I whispered to Aaron.
He shrugged. “The label gave him a lot of media training.”
It didn’t make him any less interesting to watch. Maybe I wouldn’t have torpedoed my whole life if I’d had the same kind of training during my viral moment.
Kyla asked a few more questions, then thanked Miles. “We’ll take some establishing shots of the murals and speak with your chef, then I’ll find you if I have any follow up questions.”
Aaron slid out of the booth. “Let me show you to the kitchen,” he said.
