Page 18 of Anything But Lonely

Hang up and call Mia.

But then I think of what this woman—Emerson—said.

No pressure.

I just want to help.

I twist the ring on my middle finger with my thumb, rolling my lips together as if I could stop the words on the tip of my tongue even if I wanted to.

“How soon can you get to Atlanta?”

CHAPTER 9

EMERSON

“What do you mean you’re going to Atlanta?” Rumi’s eyes are wide, but her voice is low.

She’s holding Eliana in her arms, and I can’t lie and say I didn’t plan to announce my new potential job in the presence of Ava’s sleeping three-week-old.

“What the hell is in Atlanta?” my brother asks, in his version of a whisper.

“A job,” I state, not offering anything more.

I watch as Rumi turns to look at Ava, but she’s staring at me, like she’s trying to see right through me.

I meet her eyes, and it’s much harder than I thought it would be. “I guess this is also my formal request for a temporary leave,” I offer with the sweetest smile I can muster before offering Rumi the same. “But I’ll be back to Hey Honey’s in no time,” I add, keeping to myself that if I can convince Mateo Lane that I am his dream come true in the form of childcare, I will be on the road with Cross My Heart until next summer.

“What job?” When I look back at Ava, her eyes are narrowed at me. “A freelance job?”

“Not exactly.”

After getting all I could out of Liam yesterday, including Mateo’s phone number, I stayed up all night finishing up all my current freelance jobs and posting on my website that my commissions were closed.

I have enough money saved up to cover traveling with the band, considering I am at the point of telling Mateo that I’ll be his nanny for free.

Anything to get away, even if just for a little while.

Away from these concerned stares and the memory of my mom taking her last breath.

Away from my empty apartment. My empty life.

I look between Jack, Rumi, and Ava, but I’m saved from saying anything else when Anderson comes into the room, tearing the attention from me.

“Isn’t Sugarcoated Lies’ next show in Atlanta?”

My lips part as I feel all the eyes in the room come back to me.

Leave it to Ava’s husband, who wouldn’t even know about Sugarcoated Lies if it wasn’t for me, to blow my cover.

When Liam got me and my friends tickets to the first show of their tour back in the spring, Anderson started streaming their songs and became a huge fan. He started following them on social media, which is probably how he knows where their next show is.

I shoot daggers at Anderson, and he holds his hand up in surrender. “Or not,” he mutters before grabbing Eliana from Rumi’s arms and leaving the room, no longer giving me the shield of the sleeping baby.

“Spill,” Ava and Rumi say at the same time from where they sit on either side of me, their voices now at a normal volume.

I purse my lips, feeling the cool metal of my septum piercing peeking out of my nose.

“Emerson,” Ava scolds. Her auburn hair is twisted back in a clip, a few curls framing her freckled face. She’s in the pajama set I bought her when Eliana was born, her legs crossed under her from where she sits on the couch.