Ten Days of Perfect (November Blue #1)

“Ugh. It’s nothing, really,” I lied.

Josh laughed dismissively, “Oh, you mean because lover boy isn’t only rocker Bo Cavanaugh, but is technically the wealthy Spencer Cavanaugh - your future boss of sorts? You’ve gotten yourself into a real cock-up, haven’t you?”

“Seriously Monica?!” My eyes widened in betrayal.

“Relax November. This is Josh, I tell him everything. Who is he going to tell? You had sex with a hot musician who happens to be seeking our mad knowledge.”

“You guys had sex!” Josh half-cheered as Monica mumbled “oops” under her breath.

“You’re oh-for-two. Got anything else you’d like to spill?” My anger hissed inside as she continued to help with dinner.

I couldn’t reconcile if my anger was from embarrassment at my sex life being in Josh’s head, or at myself for knowingly entering into a sexual relationship with a potential boss. I’d never felt so torn. My practical, realist side - the side with whom I chose to align most frequently - reminded me that the responsible thing to do would be stop seeing Bo until this collaboration deal was finalized. My free-love side told me to ride the wave with Bo; soak up his intellect, share music, share passion - have sex with the boy. I liked her more and more.

“Guys,” I broke the awkward silence, “I’m sorry for being all weird. I just feel disoriented, disjointed, all sorts of dis.” It felt weird being this vulnerable in front of Josh.

“Ember, it’s fine. I just can’t believe how shitty this is. This is the first guy I’ve seen you fall uninhibitedly for since Adrian, and this thing could get in the way.” Monica walked toward me and gave me a little squeeze.

“Hey, ladies, isn’t your boss out of town through the week and weekend?” Josh asked, and we nodded.

“Well, since she’s the one you’re worried will find out . . .” He looked at us with wide eyes and raised brows.

“What, Josh?” I asked.

“Screw it! Enjoy the week with Bo and worry about it later - or not at all. Mazel Tov!” He raised his glass to cheer.

Monica and I laughed and toasted Josh. With the clink of our glasses I willingly entered into a week of spontaneity. The rest of dinner had a much lighter mood, for the most part.

“You OK, Josh?” I sipped my wine, waiting for an answer.

“Yea. Why?” His eyes surveyed the table, but never met mine.

“You seem a little off.” I shrugged.

“Yea, babe. You OK?” Monica placed her hand on top of his.

“I just feel bad for Ember, is all.” He looked at me and continued, “This guy’s really done something to you. I don’t know, you’re happier. I’ve never heard you sing like that, either.”

“Josh, you hear me sing almost once a week.” I looked at Monica, who shifted her eyes side-to-side. She didn’t know where Josh was going with this either.

“It was different last weekend, Ember. It was all of you up there. No one else has ever brought that out of you before.” Josh bit the inside of his cheek and left the table.

“What the hell?” I whispered to Monica as Josh washed his dishes.

“He really wants you to be happy, you know. He doesn’t want this to blow up in your face. He can see how good Bo is for you.” Hopeful sadness was the show playing in Monica’s eyes tonight.

I furrowed my brow as I headed toward Josh in the kitchen.

“Hey, Josh, it’s going to be fine, OK? And, even if it’s not - I’ve got great friends to help me out.” I gave him a playful squeeze across his shoulders.

“I know, Ember. You’re tough as hell. But what’s between you and Bo is obvious. It’s gotta work out.”

I patted him firmly on the back and headed back through the living room to leave.

“He’s being weird. Tell him it’s fine, OK?” I whispered to Monica as I left her apartment.

Walking to my car, I texted Bo.

Me: You around?

Bo: Of course, why what’s up?

Me: Can I come see you?

Bo: I just left a dinner meeting, getting in my car. Can I come to your place? It’s much nicer than a crappy motel.

Me: True. Just head to my place, we’ll meet there. :)





Chapter Eight

Moonlight beamed off the hood of my car as I parked it in front of my apartment, right behind Bo. He got out when I did and we walked to the stairs. I noted his tense movements; maybe he was fighting the same moral demons I’d wrestled all day.

“Where the hell have you been?” I laughed out. “Your hair’s a mess!”

I roughed through his hair like he was a puppy before unlocking the building door.

He chuckled like a high school boy, grabbed my hand and kissed it with tight lips. Something was off, and I didn’t like it. Everyone is bizarre today.

“Hey,” I continued as we headed up the stairs to my apartment, “is everything ok? You’re all weird.” I dialed down the concern and took a more get over it tone so he wouldn’t think I was getting crazy.