Page 3 of The Sound Between Us

“It’s going to be amazing. I’m feeling tequila. Definitely tequila vibes this morning. Did you drop the cake at the restaurant?”

I roll my eyes.

“This morning? Simon, do you even have a functioning brain? They’re not open yet. I’ll bring it tonight.”

“You know a cake isn’t a date.” His lips twitch, pleased with his own rhyme. When Simon smiles, he makes geek chic look dangerously close to attractive.

“You know I’m not bringing a date.” I watch him closely. “Are you?”

“Andrew said he might come. But it depends.”

“Depends on what? His manicure schedule?”

“No.” He draws in breath like it’s fuel for a monologue. “Well, you know his sister Trace is expecting twins. Last night her waters started leaking, like she couldn’t stop peeing, so they called the hospital⁠—”

I throw up a hand, but he barrels on, full steam.

“They said it wasn’t a proper gush, so they weren’t sure. Maybe she was just pissing herself. That bump is massive, Seren. I don’t know how she’s still upright⁠—”

My hand clamps over his mouth before he can scar me further.

“Please. Stop. I get it. He’s not coming.”

I tilt my head.

“Have you told him about me?”

Simon clutches his chest like I’ve wounded him mortally.

“Would I? Seren, you wound me. Just because I like to talk doesn’t mean I gossip.”

I raise an eyebrow.

“Swear on my life and hope to die. Preferably mid-orgasm.”

I let it go. He’s telling the truth, rare as that is. And maybe that’s the real surprise—I believe him.

“You know I’d never break the triangle of trust. Not even for Andrew. Who, for the record, gives the best head this side of the Thames.”

“Thanks for the visual.” I mime a finger gun to my temple. “I’ll store that next to all my other unwanted mental images.”

He waggles his eyebrows.

“Right then. Are we expecting to be busy?”

I sweep a glance around the empty shop.

“Um. No.”

“Shall we raid the stock for tunes for Flick’s party?”

“Nothing from the nineties.” My voice carries the weight of a thousand suns.

“You mean nothing by Damon Rogers?”

Every cell in my body tenses.

“Don’t say his name in here. This is my happy place.” I glance, involuntarily, at the R section.