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Jo narrowed her eyes at Kat. “And I’m your publicist.”

“You’re the band’s publicist,” Kat corrected. “And my boss’ wife.”

“I’m also your friend. Derek doesn’t need to know everything.”

Kat shot her an incredulous look.

“What? It’s good for the man to be left in the dark every once in a while. Keeps him on his toes. So why don’t you tell me what’s bothering you, just between us girls.” She sucked in a breath as if she’d suddenly figured something out. “Oh, did you not come?” she whispered.

“What? No—I mean—yes, I came,” Kat hissed through clenched teeth, lowering her voice. “More than once, if you must know.”

“I always knew Becks was one of the good ones.”

“The sex was great. Amazing, actually.” Kat sighed and sank into the office chair opposite her friend. “The whole night was amazing. He talked to me, really talked to me, about things we’ve never talked about. It felt like before… only better.”

Jo’s brow furrowed in confusion. “I’m still not seeing a problem here.”

“This isn’t going to work. We only have a few weeks left and then…”

“And then what? The tour is over and you no longer work together? You can stop pretending you’re abiding by that stupid non-fraternization clause? That’s a good thing if you’re trying to build a relationship.”

“But what if that’s not what we’re doing? We said this would all be over when the tour ended. We’d stop pretending.”

“Sounds like you already did.”

Kat closed her eyes, her shoulders sagging. “I’m scared, Jo,” she whispered. “I told myself I wasn’t going to do this again. What if the label finds out and I lose my job?”

“No one at the label is going to find out. As far everyone else is concerned, this is still a fake engagement situation.” Jo mimed turning a key and locking her lips.

“What if it’s just like last time?”

Jo scooted to the edge of the sofa and reached across the space between them to take Kat’s hands in her own. “You’re not the same people you were last time. You just said it yourself. He’s opening up more than he did before.”

“What if it’s not enough? What if it still doesn’t work?”

Jo squeezed her hand. “What if it does?”

Chapter Twenty-Six

Jackson pulled off his sweaty t-shirt and chucked it in the corner of the green room. “Come out tonight. Just one drink.”

“It’s never just one drink.” Beckett picked up Jackson’s discarded shirt and dropped it in the hamper for wardrobe.

“And we have another show tomorrow. You know the rules,” Nico added.

“Fuck the rules. Don’t you guys ever just want to say fuck—” Jackson jumped up on the couch, sneakered feet digging into the cushions, and cupped his hands around his mouth, “Fuck the rules!” he shouted. He dropped his hands. “We’re in our forties. Why the hell do we have stricter curfews than we did when we were teenagers?”

Beckett reached towards his brother in an attempt to get him to come down off the couch. “Jacks—”

Jackson shook him off. “Come on, man. One drink. Before you got ‘engaged,’ you used to come out for a drink,” he said, complete with air quotes.

Beckett’s stomach dropped, anger flaring.

“What do you mean, ‘engaged’?” Zach asked, mimicking the air quotes.

Jackson snorted. “I could give some chick a fancy ring, too. Doesn’t mean—”

“She’s not some chick,” Beckett seethed.