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“Sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
“No.” He straightens up. “No, it’s not you. You just reminded me I still need to deal with it. That’s—that’s my manager. That is a story Danny put in a newspaper even when I asked him not to.”
I search his face, looking for a lie. “Right.”
“I had dinner with her. One dinner because he’s been at me for months about doing some”—he turns his hand over in the air, looking for the word and not finding one he likes—”bullshit thing. So I said I’d meet her without cameras to chat music. He clearly lied and set cameras up.”
“You don’t have to explain.” I feel even more stupid now. I don’t think he’s lying.
He looks at me then. Whatever is on my face, he reads it in about a second and a half, and something in him drops.
“Oh, shit.”
“What?”
“Bea.” He turns to face me fully. “I didn’t think. I didn’t— I assumed if you saw it, you’d have known it was nothing. I should have texted you. Fuck. I’m sorry.”
My cheeks heat up. “I did know it was nothing.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Okay.”
“I did,” I snap.
“Okay,” he repeats.
I drink some water.
“Seriously.” He dips his head to find my eyes. “You thought I’d sleep with you and then go and take someone else to dinner?”
“I don’t know,” I admit. I shrug. “Isn’t that what rockstars do? We didn’t make any promises.”
And he goes quiet.
“No,” he says. “It’s not what I do.”
“Cal—”
“There’s nothing going on with her. Nothing. She’s nice, but I’m not interested.” He shakes his head. “It was a stupid thing my manager set up, and I’m going to deal with it. I promise you.”
I believe him.
I can tell because my shoulders come down off my ears, which means they were up there, which means I have been carrying this around all day.
“Okay,” I say.
“Okay?”
“Okay.”
I put my glass down and place my hand over his on the counter.
His gaze drops to where we’re touching.
Then lifts to mine.
The tension in his jaw loosens slightly.
His thumb shifts beneath my hand, brushing the side of my little finger. A tiny movement.
