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“A little birdie told me,” she says, glancing up at Geo standing behind me.
I glare at him with wide eyes, and he does his best to look innocent. But I can’t even be mad at him. The way it feels to have someone else here for me is…amazing. It makes me feel a little less alone.
“You’re going to do great,” Mia says with a beaming smile.
“Thank you.”
Just then I spot the organizer waving at me from the bar, so I excuse myself and rush over. He quickly goes over the lineup and what I should do when it’s my time.
I swallow down the sudden urge to vomit again. “Want a drink?” he asks when he notices my complexion turn pale.
I shake my head. The thought of alcohol only makes it worse. “No thanks. Knowing my luck, I’d forget my lyrics or something.”
“Okay, break a leg, kid,” he calls as the announcer takes the stage.
Hearing my name uttered through the mic feels like a dream. Slowly making my way up to the stage, all eyes on me, the moment goes by in a strange gaze of slow-motion surrealism. But as I take my seat on the bench and the crowd goes quiet, I glance out to the floor again, bright overhead lights blinding my vision.
But one face stands out. Sitting at the bar, a glass of bourbon in his hands, he watches me with a warm, comforting expression. Suddenly, I remember that day on the street in Paris.
Just play for me,he said.
So, that’s exactly what I do. I imagine there’s not another soul in the room, just his rich chestnut eyes and the proud look on his face. If I’m just playing for him, I couldn’t screw this up if I tried.
“Thank you,” I mumble into the mic, and the crowd quiets to a low hush. “My name is Daisy Moon. And this song…is called ‘The Highest Bidder.’”
RULE #41: KNOW WHEN TO WALK AWAY
Ronan
Listening to Daisy play, for real this time, feels like meeting for the first time and reliving every moment of our time together. She sings about Paris and L’Amour and the Eiffel Tower and the terrible lighting in the ER. She even sings about the fucking cheese.
Some songs are upbeat, and I recognize the melodies from when she played in my apartment. There are a couple that are slow and sad, and I know they’re about her mother. She has a way of manipulating the mood in the room effortlessly, making all of us feel what she’s feeling.
I’m so incredibly proud of her.
When she finishes her set, she’s bombarded by people when she tries to leave the stage, and I watch with pride as they ask for her autograph and photos.
“She’s pretty good,” Eden says, stepping up next to me at the bar. I’ve stood back while she and Geo and Mia cheered Daisy on from one of the tables. I didn’t want to complicate things by mingling with Daisy’s friends. As much as I wish I were part of her crowd, I know that’s not the case anymore.
“Pretty good?” I snap, sounding offended. “She’s a fucking star.”
Eden laughs as she waves down the bartender. “I know. I’m just getting you riled up.”
“Very funny,” I mutter.
“You’re going to stick around and tell her yourself, right?”
I take a long, deep sigh as I swirl my bourbon in my glass. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“It’s been two months, Ronan. She’s proving to you right now that she can take care of herself. That’s what you wanted, right?”
Forcing myself to swallow, I nod. “Yeah. That is exactly what I wanted.”
Eden lets out a long huff. “Ugh, don’t tell me you’re going to try and give me thatshe’s better off without mebullshit.”
My only response is the clenching of my jaw. “She’s doing pretty good, though. I don’t need to fuck that up for her.”
“What, by giving her love and support? Oh yeah, better not do that,” Eden replies sarcastically.
