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And? Regular gigs just weren’t for me.

It had been a while since I’d done one. For almost two years, all my performances had been nothing but Sexy Sax Boy. Hopping back into the mainstream tonight had taught me an unexpected lesson: I didn’t like it.

Like, I really didn’t like it.

I didn’t want to play these run-of-the-mill performances. I didn’t want to end up in a jazz band—or any band.

I liked the Sax Boy thing. I liked the energy, liked how much fun everyone was having. I liked that when I showed up, the party started. It was a blast. I looked forward to going to work, every single time.

I also really liked the money. But even if Sexy Sax Boy wasn’t lucrative, I’d still want to do it. I’m not saying I’d be doing it forever. Eventually I might find something else, but even then, it probably wouldn’t be something traditional.

I was an entertainer first, a musician second. This was the first time I realized that. And if my brothers wanted to make fun of me for it or my parents were disappointed by it? Oh well.

Life is too short to make bad bets.

I had one more song in my setlist. I was switching out my sheet music when the double doors opened and a new guest came in. It was an old lady in a wheelchair and a pink robe—and Rhiannon, pushing her.

I lowered my instrument. The old woman was clutching the cat plushie I gave Rhiannon, and Rhiannon was wearing an animal crate backpack with a black and white cat in it.

She was beaming.

She moved the old woman to an empty spot and took the chair next to her. She gave me a thumbs-up.

She’d done it.

I smiled. “Any requests for the last song?” I asked the crowd.

Rhiannon’s hand shot up.

I nodded at her. “What would you like to hear?”

“I heard that if the next song to play is ‘Jingle Bells,’ there’s a girl who has to go on a date to Little Christmas with a cute guy she met at work.”

A slow smile spread across my face. “You bet. ‘Jingle Bells’ it is.”

EPILOGUE

RHIANNON

“YOU DID WHAT?” I asked.

Laci looked at her nails. “I told Tate I didn’t show up at the restaurant because I saw him and he was too ugly so I left.”

Matty was cracking up.

It was two days later. We were all sitting in the living room of my apartment, and Christmas was weaving in and out between us on the sofa, purring.

“She in good shape?” Laci asked, scratching under her chin.

I shrugged. “She’s a little thin, but she’s okay I think.”

“Cool. And the old lady didn’t care?”

“Ha. She practically begged me to take her. She was really nice. I might visit her sometime, once Tate gets evicted.”

“Did he ever figure it out?” she asked.

“I don’t think so,” I said, petting my cat. “She said she would tell him she accidentally left the door open when she went to hear the performance. He won’t bother to look.”