“Just, um, the car is coming to get you in an hour. Call me later,” she says quickly. “Love you!”
“Ad—”
She hangs up.
I stare at my phone.
“That was weird.”
I pack and call Maribel to make sure she can handle the shop. Then I wait, still wondering about Adrianna’s specific brand of crazy and figuring it’s just a side effect of pregnancy hormones which is how, an hour later, I find myself climbing into the back of a sleek, blacked-out limo with a weekend bag and zero idea that my life is about to be personally attacked.
Bella is already inside, practically vibrating with excitement.
“Oh my God, Larry, I can’t believe this is happening—like, actual studio time? In New York? Do you think I should wear the green top or the black one? Because the green one makes my eyes pop but the black one is more?—”
She stops.
Because I’ve stopped.
Because I haven’t moved past the door.
Because—he’s sitting across from her.
David.
Because of course, he is.
Because apparently the universe woke up today and chose chaos.
He looks up.
Those dark eyes lock onto mine.
And there it is.
That same awareness.
That same pull.
That same oh no.
“Hello, Sunshine,” he says, like we didn’t just almost combust in the back room of my shop three days ago.
My brain short-circuits.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I mutter.
Bella blinks between us.
“What? What’s the matter?”
I laugh.
A little hysterically.
“Oh, nothing, just um, what are you doing here?” I ask.
“DJ Mars is writing and producing this song for the Rugby Cup, and I’m going to sing it!” Bella shouts proudly.