“I know you love flowers,” I whisper.
“She doesn’t. She’s allergic,” Kim says standing behind me with her hands on her hips.
I frown. “Are you?”
She shrugs sheepishly. “A bit.”
“Then why?” Why have I been buying her flowers?
“For Maria.”
For Maria. Her sister.
The sister who her whole family were willing to plunge themselves into debt for. The reason she agreed to this fake-dating in the first place.
“So,” Kim taps me on the shoulder to regain my attention, “to what do we owe the pleasure of your company this morning?”
“I’ve come for our usual meeting,” I say, confused. “To work out our calendar this week and–”
“Hunter, the month’s up,” Kim says.
What?
I rack my tired, jet-lagged brain for the date. It’s Monday. I know that much. But the end of the month? Already?
“It’s the end of the agreement,” she adds.
“Then …” my eyes leap to Isabella and she stares at me, her nose twitching above those stupid flowers.
“We won’t release a statement or anything telling people you’ve broken up. We’ll just wait for them to figure it out. But if anyone asks you can say you’re no longer together.”
“Why did we break up?” I ask, the words sharp in my mouth and my heart icy in my chest.
“Nothing dramatic. Mutual agreement. You weren’t suited.”
“We weren’t?”
“Yeah, say that. We don’t want rumors about infidelity or anything like that.” She pats my shoulder. “You’re a free man again, Hunter.” She laughs. “Your free time is once again your own.”
I gape at Isabella and her eyes are streaming with tears because of those darn flowers.
Allergic to flowers; how did I not know that? Do I not know her as well as I thought after all? Was it all fake? All of it?
“Come on, big man, off you go. You’re meant to be at Ash’s this morning.” She pushes me towards the elevator, my feet moving of their own accord despite how heavy they feel.
* * *
I’mfirst to arrive at Ash’s house. He meets me at the door half dressed and leaves me in the studio tuning my bass. Trey arrives next, followed by West, Ash arriving soon after with his shirt now on.
Ash and West play us a few of their songs and we have a mess around, trying out a few different things.
I suggest a rift to add to one of the songs and to my surprise the others praise it, encouraging me to suggest some more.
I play them one of the tunes that’s been rotating around in my head and they listen without interruption.
I eye them with suspicion, wondering what the hell is going on. Usually I’m bucking up against West, especially when it comes to our views on the music. His approach is way morelaissez-fairethan mine. I want the music tight, spot on, flawless. He thinks it should be more natural, more spontaneous.
Today something is up. I just can’t tell what.