Smitten

Again, Dax, Colin, and I exchange looks of complete shock.

“Damn, Reed,” Dax says. “What kind of spell has Georgina cast on you? I don’t think I’ve heard you apologize to anyone but Violet.”

Reed shrugs. “It’s the new me.” He winks. “Good thing I’m hardly ever wrong, eh? So I don’t need to make a habit of this.”

We all chuckle.

“Now get the fuck out,” Reed says. “I have work to do.”

We say our goodbyes and head through the lobby of River Records toward the elevators.

“Well, that went well,” I say.

“Yeah, that was . . . crazy,” Colin says.

The elevator doors open.

We step inside.

Dax scrutinizes me. “You okay, Fish Taco?”

“Huh?”

“You look deep in thought.”

I smile. “I was just thinking about tomorrow. What I’m going to say when I pick Alessandra up from the airport.”

“She’s not going to be staying in Reed’s casita, ever, I take it?” Dax says, returning my broad smile.

“Correct. If I get my way, my woman’s gonna be staying with me while we write and record her album. And then, as long as we both shall live.”

Thirty-Five

Alessandra

As I enter the baggage claim area at LAX, I scan the milling crowd around the carousels until my eyes lock onto the most handsome face in the world. My hot boyfriend. My loverrr. He’s scanning the crowd while holding a lovely bouquet of red roses. And, of course, he looks like a tasty fish filet in his T-shirt and jeans.

I take off toward him, shouting his name. And when he spots me, Fish takes off running, too.

We meet in the middle and crash into each other.

After kissing me passionately, he presses his forehead against mine and coos, “God, I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.”

He jolts and looks down at the roses crushed between us. “Oh. Crap. These are for you.” He steps back and hands me the bouquet. “Welcome home. I love you. I’ve missed you. Happy birthday.”

I giggle. “I’ll take three out of four, but my birthday isn’t for five days.”

“It’s your birthday month. That’s good enough for me to start celebrating.”

A baggage carousel a few yards away whirs to life and we drift over to it, holding hands and smiling giddily at each other.

“I have lots and lots of stuff to tell you,” he says. His smile widens. “I’m going to produce your album, baby. I’ve already cleared it with Reed.”

“What?” I shout.

“Assuming that’s still what you want?”

“Yes!” I throw my arms around him and kiss him enthusiastically, unwittingly sending a few rose petals fluttering to the ground. I jerk back. “But what about your album? Your schedule? Fish, no. As much as I’d love to have you as my producer, I can’t let you—”

“Yes, you can. We’ve worked it all out. I’ll tell you everything in the car. But, long story short, Dax and Colin and I are going to slow things down to make room for side projects and family time. We’re all on board with this. I promise.”

A group of people squeeze next to us at the baggage carousel, forcing us to take a step to the side.

Fish continues, “And that’s only the beginning of the stuff I’m excited to tell you about.” He pauses for dramatic effect. “Reed wants me to sing a duet with you on the album, if you’re still down for that.”

“Yes!”

“It was totally Reed’s idea, by the way. I didn’t say a thing.”

“Did you tell him yes?”

“Of course. So I guess we’d better get to work on that little ditty we started in Boston, huh?”

“Yes!” I clutch my heart, overjoyed, sending more petals fluttering to the ground. “This is the best day of my life!”

Fish laughs. “But, wait, there’s more! Actually, hold onto me for this next bit, sweetheart. I think you might fall over after hearing this one.”

“I already feel like I’m going to fall over.”

“All the more reason to hang onto me now.” When I grip him, as instructed, Fish smiles and says, “Reed asked Laila to record a duet with you . . . and she already said yes.”

I drop the flowers, grip Fish’s arm with both hands, and scream. But when I remember we’re standing in an airport, I clamp one palm over my mouth, making Fish guffaw at my over-the-top reaction.

When I’m sure I can refrain from screaming, I remove my hand from my mouth and babble incoherently for a long moment, jumping up and down with excitement as I talk. And Fish laughs and laughs at my exuberance.

“But, wait, there’s more!” Fish calls out, his green eyes twinkling.

“No. No more. I can’t take any more.”

“Oh okay,” he says calmly. He bends down to pick up the bouquet on the ground. “I won’t tell you the rest, then.” He turns and faces the baggage carousel. Looks down at the flowers in his hand. Pretends to yawn. “What color is your bag?”