Page 38 of Red Hot Harmony

“It’d be a good idea if things keep progressing the way they are right now.”

I didn’t know how I felt about my kid becoming an overnight YouTube sensation. Several hours after a photo of Dante and her having breakfast leaked to the media, one of the Systematic videos shot on my cell during her first live gig started getting hits. By the following day, the upload had already gained over a million views. Earlier today, it was close to four.

“She’s so calm about everything,” I said.

“Once it’s out, there’s no taking it away, no hiding it, Camille. Staying rational is the smart thing to do and Ally is smart. Like her mother.”

His calloused palm rested on the spot where my neck met my shoulder. For the briefest moment, despite all the noise and the people and his evening responsibilities, he was truly himself.

Shattered. Confused. Conflictingly profound.

A combination of everything I despised and loved in a man.

And mine.

Our table was on the balcony, which we shared with two other groups, and I spent a good portion of the live show fighting off curious guests who wanted to see Dante’s new flame for themselves while he was doing his exclusive with a fancy magazine.

Aside from the noisy bunch cramming my space and interrupting my attempts to try some of the appetizers, the band was great and I found myself enjoying the music.

At the end of the third song, tired of dodging the millionth variation of theHow did you two meet?question,I defiantly pulled out my phone and texted Harper.

How’s Bug?

Harper responded with a blurry photo of my daughter sitting on the couch in our living room, cross-legged and red-nosed. She was wrapped in a blanket, Tallulah luxuriating in her lap. A mug with what appeared to be hot tea sat on the coffee table. I spied a paper plate with an unfinished slice of pizza too.

Are you two having fun?

Harper: We’re binge-watching Stranger Things. Don’t worry about us. Have fun with your man toy.

I laughed at the last bit. The people crowding my table began to fade into the shadows, some moving on to bother my neighbors. Good. Nothing like alienating potential industry connections with a little cell phone action.

Man toy is busy.

Harper: Famous people work too.

Apparently so.

Harper: But seriously, we’re fine.

“Everything okay?” Dante’s voice pulled me out of my thoughts. I was back at the venue, soaked with the gritty sounds of a bluesy melody. After fending off someone’s attempt to strike up a conversion, he flopped into the chair across from me and reached for my hand.

“Just checking on Ally,” I explained, twining my fingers with his and putting my phone away.

“She’ll be okay. It’s just a cold,” he said, his voice raspy and low and shiver-inducing above the music. “We’ll make it up to her next time.”

The “we” in his sentence was both concerning and sweet.

When had the three of us become a unit?

“I feel like a horrible mother,” I confessed. “You think I did the right thing by coming?”

“The fact that you were ready to forfeit this wonderful”—he gestured at the stage below—“once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to be seen with me on the red carpet in favor of staying with your fifteen-year-old kid who has a runny nose and a crappy attitude, out of mere solidarity makes you the exact opposite.”

“Are you sure?”

“She’s not four, and I totally trust Harper.”

“Oh, so you’re in cahoots with my best friend now?”

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