Page 29 of Lance

“Yeah,” I say quickly, releasing her hand and leaning back in my seat, putting as much physical distance between us as I can. “You don’t want to make him any more grumpy than I’m sure he alreadyis.”

She rolls her eyes, the moment effectively broken. “Is he evernotgrumpy?”

“Goodpoint.”

She reaches into her purse but I wave her away. “I gotthis.”

“You don’t have to dothat.”

“It’s tough to stretch an ice cream joint salary to halfway decent whiskey,” I tell her. “Besides, you should save your money for Disneyland. You’ve got free time now, right? You should definitely go seeit.”

She giggles again. “Thanks,Lance.”

“Noproblem.”

“I’ll see youaround?”

I nod and she gives a little wave before getting up and walking back toward the lobby. I watch her until she’s out of sight and then close myeyes.

I’m in so much fuckingtrouble.

I cannot get involved with Willa. There are a million reasons it would be a terrible idea, not the least of which being her brother. The last thing in the world our band needs right now is drama. We’re finally breaking out, finally accomplishing the kind of success we’ve always been fighting for. There’s no way I’m going to mess with that. Not for Willa, not foranyone.

Besides, she deserves so much more. She just finished telling me that she’s never been in love, that she’s hardly dated. She needs someone who can treat her right, someone who can be romantic and sweet. Good boyfriend material. Which is about as far from a description of me as is humanly possible. There’s no universe in which I’m good enough for WillaNathans.

The thought makes my stomach clench for some reason that I don’t quite understand. Why should it be depressing to me? It’s not like Iwantto be boyfriend material. That is so not my scene. I’m the guy who flirts and hooks up and has fun, not the guy who settles down. And now I’m finally getting a little recognition, a little attention. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to enjoythat.

Right?

“Lance.”

I look up to see Angie standing in front of me and my breath catches in my throat. She looks different from the last time I saw her. Thinner. Her hair much shorter, and dark when it used to be blonde. I might not have even recognized her if it wasn’t for her voice. Her voice is definitely the same. I set down my empty glass, trying to keep myself from reacting to the sound of her voice, from the sight of her, after all theseyears.

She points at the chair Willa had just vacated. “Can I sitdown?”

For some reason I don’t like the thought of her sitting there, but I nod anyway. “Sure. Uh, sorry. Hi. How’s itgoing?”

She doesn’t answer, just takes her seat and folds her hands neatly on the table, meeting my gaze headon.

“We may as well get right down to it,” she says, her tone flat. “I’m sorry to drop this on you, Lance, I really am. I’m sure it will be a shock. But I don’t have a choice. I just can’t do itanymore.”

“Drop what on me?” I ask. The worried feeling I’d had on the phone with her—the fear that I was about to open a huge can of fucking worms by agreeing to this—is inchingback.

“You really didn’t give me much choice,” she goes on as if she hadn’t heard me. “I tried to get in touch with you for weeks. I could have given you more time to get used to the idea but you forced myhand—”

“Angie, what are you talkingabout?”

“Simon.”

I stare at her, waiting for her to elaborate, something like dread starting to form in my chest. “Who’sSimon?”

Her eyes focus on mine. “Our son. I brought him here because I can’t do it anymore, Lance. You’re going to have to takehim.”