I avert my eyes from the gorgeous view and look over my desk. The surface is uncluttered. My eyes settle on the photo of Dahlia and me at her wedding. It’s hard to believe that just a few short years ago I was so worried about her. My heart broke as I watched her battle depression. It’s a feeling I know all too well. For a while I feared her falling back into the blackness when Ben resurfaced, but she didn’t. She was much stronger and thankfully proved my fears wrong. Nothing in the world makes me happier than knowing she survived her struggle and emerged with a full happy life in front of her.

Jagger has my mind wandering and I know I can’t let that happen. My mind never rests. It stays busy all the time. It’s who I am. Type A personality. I know it’s not proven that depression is hereditary, but I often think it might be. I prefer to take precautions and keep my body healthy and my mind busy.

But while I was away, Jagger and I spent at least three hours every night on the phone with each other. We discussed the band I was in Kentucky interviewing—Whisky Row. They were there to take publicity shots along Main Street and kick off their tour. The Wilde Ones were stopping there as well, so I had already arranged to stay the weekend to catch their concert. Zane and I moved past our tryst and although I didn’t see a blooming friendship there, I still wanted to support the band. I got the feeling Jagger would have flown out if I had asked him. I’m not sure why I didn’t. Now, I wished I had.

I laughed when he told me all about how corn whiskey had coursed through the state starting with judges sampling from barrels to whiskey warehouses anchoring ports along the Ohio Trail. River was right—Jagger knows the most random facts. I even told Xander some words of wisdom Jagger had shared with me—to order whiskey with a branch. Xander had looked at me with skepticism. But once he swirled, sniffed, and sipped his fine bourbon with the added drop of water, he agreed it did make it taste better.

Jagger and I became well acquainted over the phone. We flirted and danced around seductive statements. We talked about everything from our favorite movies, to pets we had as kids, to places we had visited around the world. We discussed my uncle—who he was and how important his career was to him.

“Two things to always keep in mind,” I told Jagger. “My uncle was tough, but charming and he called every man ‘brother’ and every woman ‘darling’.”

I also told him about the close relationship my uncle and I had shared. And swallowing back tears, I even managed to tell him about my uncle’s battle with cancer. He shared with me what spurred his move to LA—a breakup with a girlfriend.

Feeling restless, I look over my desk again—a silver pen, my computer, a Filofax, Post-it notes. Everything was neat and in its proper place, but for some reason I wanted to open the window and let the wind in. Let it blow across everything—shake it up a little. I laugh—the feeling is so unlike me.

My phone rings and takes me from my thoughts.

“Hello.”

“Hey, how about lunch today?” Dahlia asks.

“Oh, I’d love to but . . .”

“No buts. I’m almost to your office. I have to drop off some artwork changes for The Wilde Ones album re-release.”

“Okay, okay but only if we eat here. My other half starts today. Her plane is delayed, but I’m supposed to meet her when she arrives.”

“Your other half?” Dahlia questions.

“I’ll explain later.”

“Okay. Can’t wait to hear the latest. See you at Bowls in fifteen minutes.”

I place the receiver back on its cradle and push my chair back, surveying my toes. Even though I got back late last night, I canceled my workout for this morning. Instead, after a quick run on the treadmill, I painted my nails and took an extra long shower, making sure to shave my legs and under my arms twice. I’m restless and my mind constantly drifts to Jagger. I pat my hair and make sure the bun in the back of my neck is in place before I leave my office.

By the time I arrive at the restaurant, Dahlia’s already in line. She looks up and waves at me as a huge smile crosses her face. She’s wearing dark jeans with a sweater over a geometric-printed top that looks like it could be pieces of a guitar scattered across it and her tall black boots.

I approach her and her large hazel eyes pop.

Her eyes scan me with unabashed humor. “Aerie Daniels, you said you were working today.”

“I am.”

“It doesn’t look like you are.”

I roll my eyes.

“Next,” the girl calls from behind the counter.

We approach the register together. “Two salmon apple Fiji salads please,” Dahlia says.

“Oh, I think I’ll have the chicken Asian flatbread today,” I tell her.

She looks at me puzzled. “Sorry make that one salmon apple Fiji salad and one chicken Asian flatbread,” she tells the girl. We select our drinks and the clerk slides us a number.

Dahlia puts her hand on my forehead. “Are you feeling okay?”

I purse my lips together and scrunch my brows. “Yes, I feel fine. Why are you asking?”

She slings her arm around my shoulder. “Oh my friend, we have so much to talk about.”

She finds a table near a window and I point to the outdoor patio. “Let’s sit there today.”

“Okay now you’re worrying me. You’ve ordered the same salad for lunch since you started working at Sound Music and you never, I repeat never, want to eat outside. So spill it, now.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. There’s nothing to spill.”

We make our way outside and sit under the bright yellow sun. She sets the number stand on the table. “Don’t sit down yet,” she waves her finger at me as she takes a seat.

I look at her and try not to laugh. I already knew this was coming.

“Since when do you wear the clothes from the wrong side of your closet to work? If you’ve told me once, you’ve told me a million times,” and she air quotes, “‘My work clothes are on the left and my play clothes are on the right.’ And, Aerie, I know that purple suede dress is from the right side.”

I laugh. “I told you I’m meeting the woman who is going to share the managerial title of the magazine with me today.”

A cute boy brings our food and I sit down with an exaggerated roll of my eyes and push her bottle of water her way.

“I’m not done.” She grins, tucking her hair behind her ears.

I unroll my silverware. “Please continue. This is very entertaining.”

“Oh, I plan to. You’re wearing snakeskin sandals to work and not pumps, you have on your grandmother’s jewelry that you only ever wear on the weekends, and did I mention—you’re wearing snakeskin sandals to work?”

“They’re cute, aren’t they?” I push my foot to the side to admire my shoes again. She’s right. I have two sides to my closet and honestly I hardly ever wear anything from the play side to work.

“Might your clothing choices have anything to do with a certain guy who happens to be living at my house?”

“Oh, Dahlia, I wouldn’t pull out the violet card for River,” I say pointing to my dress. Then with a shrug I add, “It just might.”

Since Jagger is coming over tonight and I wasn’t sure if I’d have time to change before he arrives—I decided to select my clothes for tonight this morning.

“I want to hear all about it,” she says stabbing her fork into the salmon lying on top of a bed of fresh greens.

We eat our food as I fill her in on what’s been going on with Jagger and me.

“I like him. He’s different from anyone I’ve ever gone out with.”

“Like how?” she asks fondly.

“Not like Zane,” I joke.

She almost spits her water out and her eyes dance with hysteria. “God, I hope so. I mean, Aerie, the fact that you could tell me you liked his ceiling fans told me he wasn’t the one for you.”

“To his defense, they were really funky. Twin fans turned sideways and connected by an industrial sized rod.”