Page 63 of Second to None

It fit his melody—warm and a little understated, hopeful. Personal, because writing music always was, but I couldn’t quite tell if it was about his own path, finally coming out, or whether this thing between us had bled into the edges of his words. Would it make a difference?

Once he was out, he’d have guys queuing around the block—models, porn stars, fans; they’d all try to get a piece of him. Meanwhile, I was a recovering alcoholic wrapped in faint echoes of my former fame, with a day job, a kid, and a cat. I couldn’t follow him around the world even if I wanted to.

Nothing heavy.

“Pretty.” I nudged the notebook back towards him and glanced at the garden’s edge, the sliver of blue sea just visible beyond. “Hey, any updates from your PR team on how it’s going? With the rumours and all.”

The other lads were sending us bits and pieces, but I wasn’t sure how much of that had been dredged up from the more obscure parts of the internet.

“They say it’s spreading. Slowly picking up.” Something about the subtle clench of Cass’s jaw seemed off. “Social media, obviously—there was a ‘then and now’ edit of us that went kinda viral. Mason liked it, and then a couple of gossip sites used that as a hook to run with the story.”

“That’s good, right?” I asked, studying him closely. “Unless you’re having second thoughts.”

“No.” It came out quick and precise, and I relaxed just a little.

“Then what’s with the…?” I waved a hand to indicate his tight expression. A tiny grin twitched around his lips.

“That’s just my face—sorry.”

“It’s a nice face.” Truth, nothing more to it. Casual. “No, I just meant you look a bit tense.”

I could tell he considered turning it into a joke, patterned sunlight dancing over his forehead. Then he shrugged gently and looked away. “It’s… I don’t know. I guess part of me wants to just enjoy this, you know? Being here. Not thinking about the world out there. But also, it’s like… My team keeps saying I shouldn’t push it, slow and steady does the trick, whatever, but it feels like we’re moving at glacial speed here.”

Oh. No second thoughts—quite the opposite. I extended my foot and let the toes curl against his thigh. “You want to speed things up?”

He raised his gaze to meet mine, a sudden spark in his eyes, tone cautiously mischievous. “Well. It would go against the advice of my team.”

“Now that would be rude. Far be it from me to suggest such a thing.” I smiled like butter wouldn’t melt in my mouth. “But since it’s your last night here… I mean, nothing wrong with a laddy lads’ night out, is there? Nice restaurant with a terrace, view of the sea, maybe a candle on the table… Nothing to it, is there? It’s hardly our fault if people mistake it for a romantic holiday dinner.”

Bonus: this wasn’t LA. This was an island at the tail end of Europe’s summer holiday season, with school having restarted in a good many places already—precisely why I’d picked this week. There’d be no paps swarming us within twenty minutes, no sudden crush of fans crowded outside the restaurant.

Cass smiled back, so bright it seemed to flood his entire body with sunshine. “I’m paying.”

“We can fight over the cheque,” I told him, and maybe this was a risk, venturing out in public with only Frank as our backup, and against the advice of Cass’s team.

But—screw it. Back then, we’d done things by the book, and it had ended us and then the band. Wasn’t it time we stopped following someone else’s script?

* * *

Cass’s assistanthad pulled some strings to secure us a last-minute table at a popular Porto Cervo restaurant.

We arrived just before the sky leaned into dusk, the kind of pastel wash that never showed well in photos, and parked in a reserved spot. Frank met us there. I recognised the near-imperceptible tension in the set of Cass’s shoulders—years later, my stomach no longer twisted each time I stepped into a public space, no disguise to hide behind, but I remembered those days when chaos was never far.

A host greeted us. Her smile was nervous but unsurprised, so she must have been instructed to play it cool, act like we were just another pair of diners. She guided us to a terrace table near the edge that overlooked the marina. Couples and small groups filled the space, snatches of Italian, English, and German drifting across white linen tablecloths. Some heads turned as soon as we entered.

Well. Job done, then.

Cass settled into his chair, back straight, and I took the seat opposite him. “Nice place,” I said, nodding at the view. Stubborn daylight clung to the horizon, painting the yachts below in gentle gold.

“Yeah.” He tugged at his collar—a blue shirt, half-buttoned, no hat or sunglasses. “Not too fancy, though. There was a Michelin-star restaurant too, but I thought you’d prefer this.”

“This is great.” Small talk about the restaurant,really? We were far beyond that, but then, most people didn’t date under a spotlight. Yet that was exactly why we were here.

Couldn’t complain, then, about how several people kept glancing over until a trio of young women approached, phones in hand, an older guy just behind. Showtime. I let Cass do most of the talking, just leaned into him and his arm around my waist as I draped mine across his shoulders.Sure, loves—not a problem. You wanna be in the picture with us? Get in, then! Thanks, you too! Oh, it’s for your daughter? Sweet, what’s her name? Tell her hi!

Three picture requests later, Frank stationed himself to discourage further approaches. We sat back down, attention still hot on us, and picked up the menus.

“Think we’ll make it to dessert this time?” I asked as hushed giggles drifted over from a neighbouring table.

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