Page 3 of Second to None

“The funny one, yeah.” That had indeed been me—the joker, the mischievous one, the token Brit who drank tea not coffee, all bright green eyes, artfully dishevelled hair, and charming accent. I sent her a lopsided smile. “Not the gay one, though. No room for that in a boy band.”

She blinked, then opened her mouth on a small “Oh” that blended surprise and understanding. My sexuality wasn’t a secret, but I’d never felt the need for a public announcement. Only someone who dove into the murky depths of the usual gossip rags would know.

“Yeah.” I paused for a mouthful of coffee. “When you’re the face of a massive franchise, people tend to forget you’re human. They treat you like a commodity. Essentially, it was a non-stop rollercoaster for five years—so when it ended, I needed a break. Needed to be myself, too. Find out who that even was, you know?”

She made a quiet noise that showed she was listening, attention glued to me while all around us, people were busy with their own lives.

“Then some family stuff forced me to take a long, hard look at my priorities. Turned out I missed music, missed the creative side of it—but I didn’t miss fame. So this?” I wiggled my fingers at her. “Mentoring talent, helping with songwriting and production? It’s the perfect gig for me.”

Cosma was silent for a second, sipping her tea with a tiny crease between her expressive eyebrows. “Is that why… What you said earlier, the thing about people wanting to fit me into some box and how you’d want to help me find my own voice instead. Is that why?”

“Yeah. Even when people love you—especiallywhen people love you—the music business can chew you up and spit you back out in pieces. If you decide to walk this path, no one can really protect you from that.”

“Not even you?” she asked.

“No.” Jesus, it was a good thing my bosses weren’t listening right now. As far as elevator pitches went, this was the ‘brutal truth’ edition. “But.” I held her eyes, dropping my voice. “If you choose me as your mentor, I will be in your corner. I know how isolating fame can be, so if you need to hear a friendly voice at three in the morning? You call me. I’ll remind you to take breaks. I’ll remind you that it’s okay to push back sometimes, and that you need to stay sane to stay passionate.”

She stared back at me, straightening her shoulders as she drew a deep breath and swallowed. Her voice wavered just slightly. “Okay.Okay. I’m in.”

Joy warred with worry, as always when I took a new talent under my wing. “Then welcome to my family, Cosma.”

Her smile was wobbly but true.

* * *

‘I owe you, bro.’I sent it before starting the drive back home. By the time I arrived, Jace had responded.

‘And don’t you forget it, mate.’

Mate? Three years in London, and he thought himself a proper Brit. Nope. Can take the man out of America, can’t take America out of the man. I parked the car and replied on my way to the house.

‘If it’s my firstborn you’re after, pretty sure you’ll be waiting a long time, MATE.’

‘Thanks, but no thanks. I’m a childless cat bloke for life.’

Funny how I’d always fancied myself a dog person, with no plans for kids. Or a husband, for that matter, what with how the only boy I’d ever loved was covering billboards. The being-single part had worked out for me. The rest? Well—I’d inherited a precocious daughter and a ballsy cat.

At seventeen, I’d been travelling the world; a decade later, I was back to living in my parents’ basement. Okay, strictly speaking, they were living in my basement. Or rather on the ground floor of a Georgian-style home I’d had remodelled to accommodate two separate units, one for them and one for Emily and me. The point was, this wasn’t how I’d planned my life.

But it wasmine. And I’d move fucking heaven and earth for Emily. Even Alba’s daily wake-up calls were something I’d grown to love, not that I’d admit it out loud.

‘Guess I’m a cat bloke with a kid now,’I wrote back.

‘Best laid plans, huh?’Jace followed it up with one of those half-smiling emojis, and started typing again right after.‘Speaking of, and speaking of how you owe me one—Mason’s gonna call you. Think about it, okay?’

‘Think about what?’I toed off my shoes and made my way up the stairs with Alba winding around my legs, then let my keys clatter onto the kitchen island and peered into the fridge without any clear idea what I was looking for. Milk? Orange juice? Leftover birthday cake? My mum, bless her, must have dropped by earlier to leave dinner for Emily and me.

I reached for an apple because I was an adulty adult making adult choices and checked my phone again just as Jace’s response came in.‘He’ll explain. Just… think about it, yeah? Might be good for you even. Good for all of us. Closure, sort of. Or the opposite?’

‘Okay, Mr Cryptic...’

No reply.

Five minutes later, Emily breezed in, my dad in tow. Her braid was mostly gone with the wind and she was chattering about how my muffins had been the best muffinseverbecause they’d come with “three kinds of chocolate chips, Lee, and they were all gooey and sticky andsogood, and also, Kate said her mum wouldn’t bake something like that because she’s on a health trip. I’m glad you’re not on a health trip.”

Ha. Who’d just won coolest quasi-dad of the week? That’s right—me.

I grinned at her around a bite of apple, my cheeks bulging chipmunk-style. “Me too, Emmy. Because chocolaterocks.”

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