Page 54 of Another Fox Bites the Dust

I stare up at her. “What? Why would she—”

“Apparently,” she cuts me off, raising her voice to prevent my inevitable meltdown, “Laila’s been working with some producer who’s really good—Damon Lewis—and he would be willing to help produce Luke’s album.”

“What? Why?” I blink, shaking my head. “What?”

I couldn’t be more surprised if Finley had told me Archer sprouted the head of an elephant and now wants everyone to refer to him as the Count of Monte Cristo.

Damon Lewis?He’s huge. He won three Grammys last year.

I’m completely dumbfounded. Numb with disbelief. “That can’t be right.”

Finley grins. “Isn’t it great? This will be the perfect solution.”

I shake my head. “There is no way anyone, let aloneTaylor, could convince someone like Damon Lewis to work with a brand-new, unpublished artist on such short notice.”

“Well, he does want to work with Luke since he’s been working with Laila and she’s the one who listened to Luke’s song. And then she convinced Damon to come out here with her, but it wasn’t difficult to sway him.”

There must be some mistake. “With her?”

“Yes, all three of them, Laila, Damon, and her manager, Ursula.”

“When?”

“In a few days. A little later than Jerry would have been, but still with plenty of time to get something done, I hope?”

My eyes flick over to Luke.

His eyes search my face. “Are you okay with all this? We don’t have to do it if you don’t want.”

He somehow reads me in a glance when I can barely muddle through the mixed emotions myself.

And just like that, I sit up straight, lift my chin, and pull my shit together.

“Yes. We do.”

I can’t believe he would even ask. I can’t believe he would put my feelings over his career—my stupid, immature, and petty feelings.

There’s no way I can let anything stand in the way of Luke’s success, especially my personal troubles with Taylor.

How can I be so concerned with beingprofessionalwhile simultaneously acting like a child?

Blake would never have put me first.

If anything, I was dead last unless he needed something from me.

The thought is depressing and humbling, but at the same time, I’m grateful he’s out of my life. Well. Mostly. Except for the one-sided texts that continue to roll in nearly every day. I push that thought aside and focus on the present.

“Do you have contact information so I can talk to someone in order to flesh out the details?”

Finley pulls her phone from her pocket. “Let me see.” She thumbs something in.

“Are you texting Taylor?” I ask.

“Yeah.”

Irritation tumbles through me, not at Finley, but at myself.

“Is she at the house? We can just go up there and talk to her.” I stand. “You don’t need to be the middleman.”

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