Page 116 of For Eva

“That’s not my business, is it? That was…Sorry.”

“No, it’s fine,” I assured him, picking at the fabric pilling on my comforter. “It’s just…I kinda got conned into going on a date.” My chest tightened as soon as I said the words. “But I don’t wanna go.”

Eric cleared his throat. “Why, um…why don’t you wanna go?”

“Because my friend Kate asked me to go to dinner and then sprang it on me that her husband and his coworker were coming, too. I was tricked. Hoodwinked.Bamboozled.”

“Hmm…sounds like you need an excuse, then. You could tell her you have to talk to me? That I don’t like to eat alone? My name might still carry a little weight in certain circles, right?”

I flicked my eyes back to the clock, my brain pulsing in time with the colon between the five and the forty-five, my heart tugging at the sound of his laughter. “I mean, maybe I can think of something, but I…actually, hang on a second.”

I quickly flipped through my contacts, found Kate’s number, and pressed the button to send a text.

Me:Just started my period and am dying. In bed with heating pad. No way I can make it to dinner. So sorry!

I placed my phone back to my ear. “Text sent. Nowyouhave to entertain me.”

“Wait—did you seriously bail on your date?”

My phone pinged, and I glanced at Kate’s response telling me she understood and we’d do it another time.

“Well, I bailed on Kate, who will have to tell said date I won’t be coming. So, yeah, I guess I did.”

“How did you—”

“Never mind,” I answered, chuckling. “Now, what are we talking about?”

“Well, I actually called because this guy I know who used to work at my record label is starting hisownlabel. But he doesn’t wanna base it in LA, so he’s decided on none other than Music City. I was kinda thinking you two should chat.”

“Are you serious? He wants to come to Nashville?”

“Dead serious. With your marketing experience, you’d probably have some great ideas for him, and I’m sure he’d be looking for someone to lead that team.”

“Oh my God, Eric…this is amazing. I don’t expect you to vouch for me, you don’t know my work, but—”

“You think I don’t know your work, Eva? Yousavedmy band. Remember the fucking tiger?”

I laughed as the original Counting Backward album artwork flashed in my mind. “Idoremember the fucking tiger.”

“I can’t guarantee anything, but I may have mentioned I know someone who could probably help him out, and he was psyched about it. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Of course I don’t mind! Thank you so much. I’d loveto talk to him.”

“Good,” he said. “Now that’s settled…how’s the weather out there?”

“Too fucking cold for late March.” I scoffed. “I hate this month. It makes you think winter’s over, then decides to fucking spit ice in your face. How’s the weather there?”

“Oh, you know. Sixty-five. Sunny. Really sucky.”

“Send me a picture of the ocean.”

“Okay, hang on.”

He went silent, then my phone pinged. “How’s that?”

“Oh, so nice of you to send one with your face in it for the extra jealousy factor.”

“Now you have to send one of you.”

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