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Speaking of.
He grabbed his bag and headed to his car. No office hours today. He had plans.
As soon as he hit the parking lot and the sunshine hit his face, his thoughts turned solely to Nikki.
He checked his phone and saw there was one text reminding him to be at the studio by six. That’s when the party was due to start.
The wrap party.
Because she’d finished producing her first major album.
Johnny had suggested a party to commemorate the event and Zara Lorna had taken over from there.
It was intended to be a celebration for all of them; the musicians and engineers that had worked on the album.
But for André, it was a celebration for one woman alone.
And she had earned it.
She’d fought her personal demons again and again, and had worked until she couldn’t think clearly. But she never stopped, even when she reallyreallywanted to.
He was so damn proud of her.
He’d even gotten new suspenders for the occasion.
Unfortunately, the dryer at his apartment wasn’t working and so he’d had to drop off his outfit for that night at a dry cleaner. He stopped there on his way, got his suit, and headed for home.
He glanced at the time again as the florist came into view.
It would be cutting it close but he wanted to bring her flowers.
To be honest, he wanted to bring her all kinds of gifts and trinkets and tokens of affection, but that would be annoying.
Maybe next time.
Or maybe when the album released.
He dashed inside, bought a single red rose, andthenheaded for home.
Rain began to splash the windshield as he parked his car.
The elevator opened and he was mentally running through his routine—eat a yogurt, shower, shave, get dressed, find the umbrella—so he definitely wasn’t paying attention to anyone else in his hallway.
Though if he had been paying attention, would it have mattered?
Because there was no way to prepare for the gut punch that came with seeing his father waiting for him.
* * *
NIKKI
She still wasn’t quite sure it was over.
And notoverover—there was still a lot to do before the album was released—but she’d done all she could do.
She’d poured all of her ability and knowledge and know-how into this piece of art and now it was out of her hands.
Zara handed her a glass of sparkling grape juice—the studio was alcohol- and drug-free—and toasted her.
