Reckless Abandon (November Blue, #2)(76)

between us.

Our backs are against the cabinets as we sit on the cold floor. We cried for about an hour; neither one of us realized it until we

were thirsty.

“See, had you answered your phone that day, we could have gotten this out of the way a hell of a lot sooner. Now, if you’ll

excuse me, I’ve gotta go get ready.” I stand and stretch my arms overhead.

“Look,” his tone is serious once again, “I’m sorry. I screwed up by bailing like that. I was so—”

“Messed up? Yeah. Been there. Listen, it’s all right. Just ...don’t disappear again, OK? I like you and I want you in my life.”

I help him to his feet, and he gives me a small hug.

“What do you have to get ready for?” he asks.

“My gig at Delta Blue.”

“Oh yeah, Josh told me about that. He said you’re really nailing it.”

“No thanks to you,” I tease. “Josh had to take over my guitar lessons. Maybe you can come sometime, when you don’t look like

total trans-Atlantic flight shit.”

I laugh. He does too. It feels good.

Regan walks to the door, pausing for a moment before opening it. “OK, smartass, hint taken. I’m a mess. Are you sure you don’t

want to come to Concord with me tomorrow?”

I nod and attempt a reassuring smile. “I’m sure.”





Chapter Thirty-Six


Slowly sipping my wine, I’m only half paying attention to the acts on stage tonight. My mind is with Rae. And Bo. It was such a

relief—and release—seeing Regan today, but I wish he’d come sooner. I remind myself that examining old wounds doesn’t have to

make me take two steps back, but it’s hard. As my name is called, I tighten Bo’s cuff on my wrist one notch tighter. I feel like

I really need him with me tonight, and this is all I have left.

I’m surprised I went a week without spotting it in my apartment, but it’d been kicked under my bed. He must have taken it off

before he showered. By the time I found it, Rae was dead, Regan was gone, and so was I. It’s been my talisman, reminding me of

what we once had and what I hope to have again. I dash on stage amidst a huge applause.

I use up the full three-song allotment tonight and ask the MC if I can sing a fourth. The full bar hoots their encouragement and he

complies. I need just one more song. I’ve sung my love song to Bo every time I’ve come here for the last month. One more time can

’t hurt.

“November Harris.” A slender young woman grabs my attention as I leave the stage with my guitar in hand.

“Yes, that’s me.”

“Elizabeth Cantwell, nice to meet you.” She sticks out her hand, and I accept. “I handle concert bookings for several large

venues on the East Coast, mainly the Southern East Coast. I’d like to talk to you about booking a show.”

Huh?

I shake my head in confusion. “I’m sorry, what?”

She smiles warmly. “I’d like you to come play at one of my venues, Ms. Harris. You’ve got the talent.”

“I don’t...like...do this.” I gesture around the bar. “It’s just a hobby, really.”

A sandy-haired guy with a cute-as-hell lopsided grin laughs as he comes up beside her.

“It seems like it should be a bit more than a hobby.” The way he casts his eyes over Elizabeth tells me she’s his.

I miss being someone’s.

Sensing my speechlessness, Elizabeth continues. “We’re just here on vacation, so here’s my card. It says “Bradshaw,” but just

ask for Elizabeth Cantwell. We just got married—this is my husband, Ryan.” I shake his hand. When he pulls away, he hooks his arm

around her waist.

I smile wide at the thought of next weekend’s nuptials. “Congratulations! My best friends are getting married next weekend.”

Ryan plants a soft kiss on Elizabeth’s head. “I hope they’re as happy as we are,” he says through a charming grin.

“It was nice to meet you, November. I hope to hear from you soon.” Elizabeth and I shake hands one more time before she and Ryan

leave.

Still in shock, I wander to the bar.

The regular bartender, Dane, senses my daze. “What’s up, Ember? You OK?”

“Yeah, just talked with a woman named Elizabeth Cantwell. She wants me to do a concert or something. Anyway,” I shake my head, “

you’ve got my money from tonight, right?”

He nods and waves an envelope. “I sure do. You want it all to go to DROP again?”

I nod. Delta Blue insisted on paying me when, two months ago, they got feedback that people were coming in “droves” to see me. I

put up a fight, saying this was all just for fun, but relented when they agreed to send my money directly to DROP, in Rae’s name.

“Why don’t you just give it to Bo Cavanaugh yourself?” Dane says as he puts the envelope in the register.

Keep your poker face.

“You know Bo Cavanaugh?”

He chuckles. “Sweetheart, everyone knows Bo Cavanaugh. I meant, you could just give it to him here.”