Suddenly, someone pushes through the front door. The smell of liquor precedes her, and her hair is a stringy, unwashed mess. She has last night’s mascara blurred beneath her red-rimmed eyes.

She stops at Henry’s desk and Henry scoots his chair back. “May I help you?”

“Is this where that rock band lives?” she asks. She can’t even look Henry in the eye.

“Who wants to know?” Henry asks.

“I’m the drummer’s mother.” She raises herself to her full height, which isn’t that tall. But she stumbles over her own toe and nearly falls, clutching the edge of the desk.

“Oh, shit,” I breathe, just as the door opens and Fallen from Zero comes walking in.

Peck

Today wasn’t easy, but now it’s done. We had to meet with the label to adjust our tour schedule because of my wrist. They didn’t like it, but our dates weren’t set in concrete, so they were able to push the tour back by two weeks. They weren’t happy with it, but they were able to do it, particularly when we gave them the good news.

It took a lot of begging to get her to agree to it, but Emily is going to tour with us for six weeks. We need her on lead guitar, and with her new single out, she’s the perfect person to open for us. She didn’t want to do it to begin with, but then Logan—Sam’s brother and Emily’s husband—agreed to go with her, and they’re going to bring the baby. Logan will take care of the baby when she’s busy with us, and they’ll be nauseatingly perfect the rest of the time.

Watching the two of them together is like watching a fairy tale unfold. It’s like turning the pages of a popup book and finding blissful happiness on the last page. They’ve been like that since they met, and it sometimes makes me wonder if that’s possible. But then I remember that people don’t stay. Not real people. Perfect is for storybook characters. Not for people like me.

We get home and I stumble to a stop when we get to the foyer of our apartment. Emily and Logan live in the same building, and that’s actually how we found it. Emily suggested it.

Henry, our doorman, stands up, and I see a familiar face beside him. My heart skips a beat. But then I smell the woman standing in front of them. I cover my nose and step back. God, she stinks.

Henry motions for us to walk past, and I think that’s probably a good idea. But then the woman turns around. Sam gets up and touches her shoulder, and she looks toward him. We slide past them all and walk quickly into the elevator. I stare out the elevator door until it closes, because something about her seems so familiar. She turns to face us and yells just as the door closes.

“Who was that?” Fin asks, scrunching up her nose.

I shrug. “N-no idea.” But something tugs at the back of my mind. A memory pushes to the front of my brain. I shake my head, shaking it off like a dog after a bath.

We go into the apartment and I drop my keys onto the side table. But before I can walk away, a knock sounds on the door.

Fin goes and opens it, and steps back with a laugh. “Well, look what the cat dragged in,” she says. “I thought you’d be tired after the night you had.”

Sam smiles and drags a finger down his nose. “Can I come in?”

She steps back and motions him forward, and he hobbles into the room.

“How’d you get past Henry?” Fin asks.

He grins. “Me and Henry go way back.”

I go to the kitchen and get a drink. Sam follows me and I nearly bump into him when I turn around.

“Sorry,” he says. He stares into my eyes. “Can we talk?” He looks toward my sisters. “Privately.”

My sisters scatter like rats from a sinking ship. Traitors. They all go to their rooms and close their doors. Fin gives me a thumbs-up and grins at me. And Wren makes kissy faces until her door closes. I flip her off.

Sam grins at me. “Watching you with your sisters is like me with my brothers. God, I love them, but they sure can grate on the nerves.”

I motion toward the sofa and pull my drumsticks from my back pocket. “Is something wrong?” I ask, as I start to tap on the end table. He watches my hands and his eyes narrow.

He scratches his head. “Well, sort of,” he says quietly.

“Is s-someone h-hurt?” I sit forward on the edge of my seat. Then I wince as I realize I spoke without tapping.

“Oh, no,” he rushes to say, swiping a hand through the air. “There was a problem last night, and that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

I nod. “Okay.” Tap. Tap.

He pulls a tabloid sheet from his pocket and lays it down in front of me. I scan it really quickly and my heart nearly stops. “Congratulations?”

The girl he said he wasn’t sleeping with is pregnant. With his baby.

“It’s not true. That’s what I wanted to tell you. I got in a fight last night, but it wasn’t my fault and it wasn’t over a girl.”

“You got arrested?” Tap. Tap.

He shakes his head. “No, they took me to the station and then let me go.”

“So, when’s the baby due?” I finally look into his face. His eyes are clear blue and meet mine with no hesitation.

“There’s no baby.” He sits forward.

“But the cheerleader.” The woman with the perfect figure and the perfect hair and the perfect voice. The one with no stutter and no ass.

“She’s not my girlfriend, and to my knowledge, she’s not pregnant. And if she was, there’s no way it could be mine.” He reaches out like he wants to touch me.