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“I better see what he wants,” he says to both of us and kisses me before walking off. I watch what looks to be a heated conversation. Bell notices, too, and bites her bottom lip before saying, “What’s going on with those two?”

“I think River is just stressed over the tour.”

“I guess.”

Xander leaves River standing there. River once again looks stressed as he runs his hands through his hair and follows Xander to the table full of young guys all staring at Ellie, who has once again removed her jacket.

“Have you met Ellie?” Bell asks me.

“Yeah, I have. She seems . . . competent.”

“Yeah, competent is one way to describe her.”

I look at her and laugh as she squeezes her way to the bar. She orders us two shots. Handing one over to me she says, “To women who think they’re all that, may their boobs drop at a young age.”

I laugh so hard I can barely down my shot. She orders another and this time I make the toast: “To women who see through the women who think they’re all that.”

Bell sucks in a breath to control her laughter and drinks her shot then asks, “You’re not worried about her, are you?”

“No.”

“Well good, because you have no reason to be. My brother loves you.”

I smile at her. “I know.”

“Speaking of my brother, what are you doing for his birthday?”

I look at her blankly. “Shit Bell, it’s this Saturday, isn’t it? I have no idea. With everything . . .” I’m not sure if she knows about Ben yet, even though everyone seems to know everything before I do. “I’ve been so busy I haven’t even thought about it.”

“Lucky for you I’m an awesome party planner.”

“I don’t know about a party, though. There’s so much going on with the tour right now . . .”

“Nonsense, that’s the perfect reason to have a blowout party—to celebrate River’s birthday and the band’s departure. Let’s make it a surprise.”

I look at her questioningly.

“Dahlia, I’ll take care of everything. You just get him out of the house for a few hours Saturday. Take him to dinner or something for his birthday.”

As my eyes roam the bar, they fall on River’s table, where Ellie is leaning over him, handing him a shot. Her chest is on full display and I roll my eyes. “Okay Bell. If you’re sure. Come on, my turn to buy a round.”

Three shots and two beers later, I am feeling no pain. Bell has changed topics so many times I’m having a hard time keeping up. She went from talking about birth control and how she can never remember to take the pill at the same time every day to her recent shopping spree at Avery’s, and now she’s telling me her plans for the party. I’m trying to stay focused, listening and nodding, but my mind keeps going back to Grace. I can’t stop thinking about how we left things.

But the sound of a familiar voice brings me to full attention. My eyes dart to the stage and I see him up there looking at ease, relaxed, like the stage is his second home.

“Hello everyone,” his deep voice welcomes the crowd. When I see him up there like that I can’t believe he’s mine. He stands with a power that commands attention. His toned muscles flex under his T-shirt with every twist and turn he makes as he adjusts the microphone height with his guitar slung around him, hugging his back.

For some reason every time I see him like that onstage it steals my breath away. His smile is wide, his dimples always on full display, his eyes bright. He’s so steady and sure and his passion for singing couldn’t be clearer. When he’s up there I know it’s where he’s meant to be. For a moment I wish it could always stay this simple for him—just write songs and bring them to life, no talk of touring and moving up to a grander scale. But the band is on the rise and he deserves the fame and all that goes with it. I just hope he learns to be happy with it.

“I’m going to sing a few songs tonight that I wrote for my girl,” he says, his eyes shining on me. The way he looks at me sends prickles along my skin. He pulls his guitar around him. “One, two, one, two, three, four,” he mouths before the opening music surges throughout the room.

You were my once in a lifetime.

This I knew from the moment your eyes met mine.

You were my once in a lifetime.

This I knew the first time I whispered into your ear and my heart stopped.

You were my once in a lifetime.

This I knew when your face touched my spirit.

You were my once in a lifetime.

This I knew when I kissed your lips and felt it in my soul.

So where did you go, where did you go?

My concerns about Grace flee for the moment in my excitement at watching him perform. Hearing him sing about us, his feelings for me, brings such peace. His evocative voice captures the audience’s attention. Couples start dancing, people begin to sway, and everyone is singing along. But he’s singing it to me as if we were alone, and that thrills me. He stops playing the guitar and lets it drop. Grabbing the mic with both hands his eyes close. With his legs shoulder-width apart he taps his thigh to the beat. He owns the music—of that there is no doubt. As the song ends he sways back and forth, playing a last few notes on his guitar and ending with an ever-so-slight bow.

The band moves right into the next song but this time he takes a seat on a barstool. His black boots find their place on the rung and he rests his guitar on his thigh. He beams before he breaks into song, strumming the beautiful melody of “Five.” Again I’m completely mesmerized. When he begins to sing, his focus slips further into the music as if he’s the song. During the chorus some of the girls start screaming and standing, he gifts them with his sexy grin. Wild thoughts of us in bed together flood my mind and I feel myself flush as I stand there, watching him, wanting him. He drops his guitar again and raises both hands in the air. His shirt lifts and the glistening skin of his lower abdomen is bared for all to see. “Come on, everyone, sing along,” he coos into the mic, and, of course, we all do.

5 years, 260 weeks, 1,825 days, 2.3 million minutes.

That was how long ago I met you.

If I did it all again. Would you come along for the ride?

If I did it all again. Could you play this game with me?

I’m not sure I’ve ever seen anything sexier than his bright smile backlit by the golden lights of the stage. Here, in this small familiar venue, River is in his element. When the last notes fade, the audience bursts into applause and the sound dances through me. “That’s all for tonight. Till next time,” he says as he lifts his guitar strap over his shoulder. He waves to the audience while they clap and yell for more. Some girls are even calling out their phone numbers while others make suggestive comments, but he doesn’t seem to notice. The Wilde Ones talk for a few minutes and then each guy leaves the stage going their own ways.

I lose sight of him in the crowd and turn back toward Bell, who is also grinning from ear to ear. Then I sense his presence behind me before I see him. “Hey, beautiful.” His warm breath travels down my neck and sends a shiver through my eager body. I lean into him and he wraps an arm around me.

Bell puts a finger over her lips and winks at me. “See you two later. I have to find Reston before he hits the stage.”

“Reston? Who’s Reston?” River asks then kisses my neck.

“Don’t you ever pay attention? He’s my boyfriend, the drummer for Scandalicious.” When he looks at her quizzically she says, “Duh. They’re the band onstage.”

He lifts his eyes to check it out but keeps his lips on me. “Sorry Bell, I just can’t keep up with all your boyfriends, but the band is rocking it.”

“I really like this one,” she says as she flutters toward the stage.

“Good luck,” I call to her but I’ve already turned so I can really kiss him.