“Thanks.” Still clutching the large blue guitar pick award, I fold my arms over my chest. “Nice performance tonight.”
Gavin shrugs, but it’s one of those cocky gestures that cause me to twist my lips to the side skeptically. “We were alright.” He glances behind me, looking for someone. “Lucas didn’t show?”
“He’s in the studio, so I’m afraid he couldn’t make it. None of the guys could come.” It’s the same thing I said when I accepted the band’s awards, and I’m sure Gavin already knows all this, but his lips pull down into a frown anyway. It takes every ounce of restraint not to roll my eyes. What a f**king drama king.
“That’s a shame. Heard from Cilla you’ve been seeing Wyatt, must’ve been hard for him to let you come here alone.”
“I’m sure he’s devastated right now,” I reply in a dry voice. Of course, that’s anything but the truth. For the last few weeks, Wyatt’s been just as distracted as Lucas. It’s unnerving. And though I hate to admit it, it’s caused me to spend a little more time at my own place. To give him space because even though we’ve been doing this thing with one another for eight years, the relationship aspect still feels so new.
“I would be,” Gavin says, dragging his gaze over my body again. “Devastated, that is.”
Heidi runs her hand through her chestnut curls. “I’m devastated that I don’t have a drink in my hand.” She nods toward another guy coming toward—the guest guitarist who’d performed with Dark Fiction on stage earlier tonight. “Scratch that, looks like he brought one for me.”
Before the guitarist can pass the drink along to Gavin, Heidi plucks it out of his hands and takes a sip. When he gives her a hard look, she smiles widely, which is usually enough to win any man over. Gavin speaks up before the other man has a chance to. “Knox, this is Wolfe’s sister, Kylie and her friend—.”
Heidi takes another sip of the drink, giving Gavin an incredulous look over the rim. “Heidi. Though, I’m sure you already know that.”
Knox reaches out toward me, and I accept his hand. “Your playing is incredible,” I tell him. And it’s true. Regardless of how big of a turd I think Gavin is, I can’t deny incredible music.
Knox grins, this wide, genuine expression complete with dimples. “Good to finally meet you. Everyone talks about Kylie Wolfe.” Because I don’t know if that’s a good or bad thing, I nod and offer him a grateful smile. Heidi touches my shoulder and I glance over at her.
“Got to pee,” she mouths, backing away in the direction of the restrooms. When I turn my attention back to Knox and Gavin a moment later, they’re already talking about something else—some other chick’s ass—and I use the opportunity to sneak away, heading straight for the club’s exit.
Once I’m outside, standing in the dry, night heat, I draw in a deep breath. As I light the only cigarette I have on me (the one I tucked behind my ear before Heidi and I came to the night club), I check my phone.
One text from my brother asking if everything at the awards show went alright. No calls or texts or anything from Wyatt. Shit.
Taking a deep drag of my cigarette, I send a message to Lucas. After I debate for a good two minutes over whether or not I should text Wyatt and let him know everything is going okay, I toss my phone back inside of my tiny handbag. “I shouldn’t be upset that he hasn’t contacted me,” I whisper fiercely to myself. “I shouldn’t be worried. I shouldn’t be—”
“You shouldn’t announce where you’re headed on Facebook,” a voice says from beside me, and my heart is suddenly racing as I jerk my gaze up. “You really, really shouldn’t, beautiful. It’s worse than Foursquare.”
Once I find my voice, and yeah, it takes me a little bit to do that, I ask, “What the hell are you doing here, Wyatt?” I lift a hand to push a strand of my hair back behind my ear. He immediately pulls the lock back out, rubbing it between his fingers before dropping the red and blonde in favor of touching my face. “You’re supposed to be in the studio?” But as selfish as it sounds, I’m glad he’s not in the studio. I’d much rather Wyatt be here.
He shrugs, and then I realize something. This situation is so reminiscent of the last time he surprised me in New Orleans—all except for the fact that he and I are actually a couple now—that I immediately assume the worst. “Is Sinjin okay?” I demand.
His bright blue eyes crinkle at the corners as he laughs, and I feel a tiny weight being lifted off my chest. “Sinjin’s fine. Stop worrying about him so damn much, you’re going to give the poor mother f**ker a nervous twitch.” He takes a step closer to me. “Can’t I just come to Vegas and surprise you and all that good shit?”
All that good shit probably referring to sex. I bite the corner of my lip. “Couldn’t stand the thought of me meeting hot strangers?”
He looks over me, just like Gavin did only fifteen minutes ago, but I make no moves to cover myself. Or to stop a wide grin from spreading across my face. “You can pretend like I’m a stranger if you want.” His expression goes serious, and then he pulls me to him. My breath hitches as I meet his gaze. “Look Ky, I came to apologize for being so f**king off lately. I’ve . . . I’ve been thinking a lot. Then we had all the band shit.” I nod in understanding, and he takes a deep breath. “And then I started talking to my lawyer this past week.”