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Dev rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I thought that as my boyfriend, you’d at least try to comfort me. Help me weather the loss.” Although by that time, Dev had pretty much realized that Nash wouldn’t offer anything more than lip service.
“I was very sympathetic!”
“You said, Oh, that’s too bad. And then asked if we were out of coffee.”
“I thought coffee would make you feel better! You’re always cranky before your second cup.”
“It was eleven o’clock at night!”
“So?”
“I don’t fucking—” Dev carded both hands through his hair. “You know what?” He dropped his arms. “Never mind. The point is that this festival has precisely nothing to do with you. It barely has anything to do with me. It’s about Home. Its businesses. Its people. Since you’re on the music roster, that makes you part of the festival, but it doesn’t make you part of my life. Not anymore. That door is closed for good.”
For an instant, uncertainty flickered across Nash’s face and his brows pinched together. But then his expression cleared and he chuckled. “Nah. If you were really done with me, you’d have pulled all the rights to your songs. But you didn’t. You let us play them live.”
“I didn’t want to penalize the band. I told you that before I left. Multiple times.”
Casey’s tart words came back to him then: Telling somebody something doesn’t do much good if they don’t listen.
He studied Nash, eyes narrowed. Maybe Dev needed to frame this in terms Nash would understand, that would hit him in the one spot he never ignored.
His wallet.
“You know,” Dev drawled, “now that you mention it, maybe it’s time to renegotiate. Your manager has been emailing me for months about releasing the recording rights.”
Nash’s smile was triumphant. “I knew it. I told the guys I’d have this sewn up by—”
“You and I are done, but if the band wants to record my music, fine.” He grinned. “As long as I get the royalties.”
Dev left Nash gaping at him and strode across the lawn, but before he rounded the corner of the house, he turned. “And by the way, for your information? Casey is worth a hundred of you.”
“Oh, wow!” Owen raced down the long room to the dormer at the far end and flopped onto the bed under the window. “This is exactly how I remember it.” He sat up. “Come on, Eli. You have to stay in here with me.”
Casey glanced at Haru, who was pointedly not invited. “You’re certainly welcome to stay in this room, any of you who’d like to, but we do have private rooms available for each of you. I can show them to you if you like.”
Eli looked around, his gaze catching on the beds centered under the other four dormers. “Single beds,” he said.
“Well,” Casey said diffidently, “it is called the nursery for a reason. Dev and his brother had their own rooms, but they stayed in here when they had friends over or when their cousin visited.”
Owen snorted. “So what if the beds are single? It’s a great place to jam. It’s not like you and I are fucking, and Harry’s gonna be in with Nash, anyway.”
“Actually,” Haru said, “I’d like to see that private room, if you don’t mind.”
Owen gaped. “But—”
“Sure.” Casey forced a smile for Haru’s benefit. He hadn’t missed the way Nash had abandoned Haru and zeroed in on Dev. Neither had Haru, although apparently it had zoomed right over Owen’s head. Eli… Casey couldn’t tell, particularly since the guy was now communing with the striped wallpaper on the north wall.
“The rooms are all on this floor, and nobody else is staying here now, so you’re welcome to switch up however you like. Once I give you the tour, I’ll show you the kitchen and the common areas. The pantry and fridge are stocked with drinks and snacks. If you need anything we don’t have, the Market is just down the street.” He upped the wattage of his smile. “Breakfast is on your own, but your lunches and dinners will be prepared by Chef Sylvia Grande, so if any of you have any allergies or preferences, just let me know and I’ll relay the information to her.”
Owen flopped back down on the bed and laced his hands over his belly with a contented sigh. “I’m happy here. You guys go on.”
To Casey’s surprise, Eli set his guitar case—although I suppose it’s a bass case—in the dormer alcove closest to the door, removed his ankle boots, and settled against the bed’s headboard with a paperback he’d pulled out of his jacket pocket.
Casey turned to Haru. “I guess it’s you and me, then. This way, please.”
He led Haru out into the hallway. “Bathroom is right here.” He pointed to the staircase. “There’s another one up on the third floor to the right of the stairs.” He nodded at what was formerly his door. “This…” A couple of butterflies executed a rhumba in his middle, because Dev had moved him out of Harrison House, and into his cottage. Does that mean it’s our cottage now? “This is Nash’s room.”
“Is it?” Haru murmured.
