Page 113 of Down Beat

She nods, her smile sheepish. The contrast is ridiculous: she’s embarrassed by the attention, when I’m frustrated by it.

“Yeah. You played their song on your violin.”

Her eyes flick to mine. She’s clearly unsure what this guy’s take on it is—whether he liked it or not. I give her a nod to let her know it’s okay.

If he hadn’t liked it, she’d more than likely be wearing his iced coffee by now. Fans—they’re passionate.

“Hi.” The lovely Margot reaches our group spectacle, giving a little wave.

I give her a silent nod, while Toby shakes her hand.

“Congrats.” He glances between the two. “Wedding anniversary?”

Margot giggles. “No. Not yet.” Her eyes soften on the short guy beside her. “We’re celebrating three months together.”

Three months to— What the fuck? Tabby swallows. Toby plasters on a forced smile. I fail.

Epically fail.

I manage to suppress my thoughts on the matter at first, my lips painful with how hard I mash my mouth shut. But when the guy exclaims how lucky he is, I lose it.

The entire fucking group stares at me as though I just killed a puppy when the snort erupts from me.

I just… three months. I’ve had hangovers that lasted longer than that.

“You okay?” Toby asks, aka “Get your shit together.”

“Sorry. I just got reminded of something at the worst time.” I try to bluff it off, but busty Margot isn’t having it.

“Rude much?” All she needs is the finger snap to go with the wiggle, and I’d be down for the count. “Let’s go, Shelly.”

The guy’s name is Shelly? I turn away to avoid making this worse. Kill me now.

“Have a good afternoon, guys. We’ll see you there tonight,” Toby calls in a lame-ass fucking attempt to salvage what’s left of the situation after I’ve set fire to the crate of puppies. “Jesus, Rey.” The heel of his hand collides with my shoulder. “You’ve got issues.”

“Well there’s a fucking newsflash.” I snatch the takeaway cup from the counter and thrust his coffee at him. “Here. Enjoy.”

Tabby retrieves her drink before I get a chance to, patient and quiet as I grab my own. Fuck—I thought I had a hold on things. After yesterday morning with kitty… I was calm.

I am calm. Who the fuck am I kidding. That sated bliss I got from tasting her? It’s gone. And as I look at the gorgeous creature who walks out of the shop with me, reenacting that moment is the only thing I can think of.

I want her. Now. Here. Wherever.

I just need that feeling to come back. I need that calm, that ease. I need what she can give me. All of it.

“What’s going on?” Her eyes show clear concern as she peers up at me while we walk.

Toby lags somewhere behind. Fuck, he can stay there to drink his fucking coffee for all I care.

“Preshow nerves.” Fucking bullshit artist. I shift my drink to the other hand, and then loop my arm around her shoulders. “You think we’ve got enough time to take the edge off for me before I head out?”

“Before you head out?” Her brow pinches. “Am I not coming with you?”

Fuck. So not going to get me laid. “I thought you might want to hang out where it’s quiet and compose, or some shit.”

“Or some shit,” she mutters, sidestepping to slide out of my hold. “Sure. Why not?”

“Kitty.…”